I walk over to the oven and take out the meatloaf. I plop it on a plate, and it’s hot and steamy. I never ate meatloaf back in Chicago. It was never on the menu when I was growing up either, but as I take my first bite, I instantly love it.
“It’s good, right?” Sam leans in, and I feed her a bite.
“I already ate my serving, but I love it.”
“She makes good meatloaf,” I agree, and we sit back to watch the next contestant on The Voice. They are doing blind auditions. It’s pretty cool. Some of these people have amazing voices, but none of them hold a candle to the woman sitting beside me.
I finish eating and place my empty plate on the coffee table in front of me. I throw my arm around Sam, and she leans into the crook of my shoulder like she’s meant to be there. I like these quiet nights just sitting by the TV with her. I never watched much TV before, but I realize I enjoy watching The Voice.
“Colt called today,” I say matter-of-factly.
“Oh yeah?” She tilts her head up to look at me.
“He wanted to make sure I wasn’t dead.” I scoff. “And he spoke to a very prominent campaign manager about running a governor campaign for me. Well, at least there’s a process, but he thinks I have a real chance. This guy Ainsley, he’s out to win. He doesn’t take just any candidate. He’s made presidents,” I say a little too proudly. I can’t help it. Just the words themselves are exciting.
She leans away from me a little and looks up to me. “Wow! That’s big news. I’m so happy for you. Are you going to take it?” she asks, and her voice is fucking chipper. It pisses me off.
“I don’t know if I’m going to take the opportunity. That’s why I’m talking to you.” I look down at her. I don’t do a good job of hiding the irritation in my voice.
“I appreciate you talking to me.” She straightens out and pulls away from me. “But isn’t that your dream?” she asks, raising both her brows.
“It was my dream, Sam. I don’t know that it’s my dream now. I don’t know what I want to do,” I admit. What I don’t say is that I am falling in love with her because her whole pulling back tactic right now is enough to tell me she would run if those words leave my mouth, and it irritates the fuck out of me.
“You should totally take it,” she says, and I shoot up to my feet.
“What the fuck, Sam?” I feel like she just punched me in the gut. “There is something between us. You can’t just expect me to get up and walk the hell out of here.” My voice is raised, my emotions running high.
“Why the hell not, Al? If I were to head to Los Angeles tomorrow to try out for The Voice and I made it … what would you tell me? Would you say, ‘Sam, don’t do it.’? Hell no. You’d tell me to follow my dreams.” She wraps her arms in front of her chest and gives me an assured nod.
“Yeah, but I would fucking follow you to Los Angeles,” I answer.
“Well, I won’t follow you to Chicago,” she retorts, and my mouth falls open just as Farmer Joe walks through the kitchen door.
“Everything okay in here?” he asks. I grab the keys to the BMW and grab my coat and shoes at the door. I feel like a jagged knife cut through my chest.
“Oh! That’s fine. Just leave,” I hear Sam holler, and I leave. I’m reeling. My blood pumps so hard through my veins I can hear the whoosh of blood. Anger pools in my chest, radiating from my extremities. I just told her I’d basically follow her anywhere, and she tells me that she won’t. What the hell am I supposed to make of that?
I drive down the street, only I don’t head back to the cabin. Izzy left for New York a few days ago, so the place is empty. My mother and stepfather don’t even know I’m staying there. I don’t want to be alone, and the place isn’t stalked with liquor. I pull into Moe’s instead, fully aware that I am basically wearing a hoody and a pair of jogging pants. I’d never leave the house dressed like this in Chicago, but then again, people in Chicago actually know who I am. I walk into Moe’s and the first person I see is Blake. Fucking great.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Sam
“You wanna tell me what the fuck just happened here?” Papa takes a seat in the recliner and waits.
“What the fuck do you care?” I snarl back.
“Fair enough.” He pauses. “You could call Kell or Leslie or anyone of your girlfriends, and they will give you the answers you want to hear. I’m going to tell you something different,” he says, and okay, he has my attention.
“And that is?” I cock a brow and wait for him to speak. I pull my feet up to my chest and hold the blanket close to my face. My father is a man of few words. Now that he actually has something to say, it both intrigues and terrifies me all at once.
“I fucked up. I was a sorry excuse for a husband and a father.” He pauses and holds eye contact. I can’t argue with a word he’s said. I wait to see where he’s going with this. “I know my fucking revelation is too late, but that’s just it, kid. It fucking sucks to realize something when it’s too late. I almost lost you a few weeks ago. You’re my fucking kid and that scared the shit out of me because no matter what, a father isn’t supposed to bury a kid. Now I see you working this ranch. You are a damn fine rancher, Samantha,” he says.
“I’m dead aren’t I? You just called me Samantha,” I deadpan, and my father doesn’t crack a smile. He doesn’t show any emotion per usual.
“Just listen.” He scolds me instead. “I’m trying to get you to see the fucking light. I fucked up. I wasn’t there for your mother. I wasn’t there for you and your sister. Blake wasn’t there for you either, but that don’t mean that Al is like us. Fucking rich spoiled kid has been working his ass off. He is far from being a good rancher, but he’s all heart. Any idiot can see that, and the way he looks at you … it’s like you’re the sun. Well, you don’t find that every day. And, kid, I may have been completely oblivious for years, but I can see the way you look at him too. You are falling in love with him. Let yourself fall,” Papa says, and I’m quiet because I’m in shock. I’ve been through a hell of a lot in my life, and my papa has never bothered once to discuss anything or give me guidance. He stands from the recliner, tips his hat to me, and walks up the stairs. The slow way he takes the stairs makes me realize how old he’s truly getting.
His words sink into my mind. I push Al away. I’m good at pushing him away. I’m not so good at letting him in. He was hurt tonight. The look in his eyes when I said I wouldn’t follow him to Chicago rings in my mind. He was more than hurt. He was gutted. Worst of all, he was presented with an opportunity and he came to me for advice. He didn’t make a decision and consider me an afterthought. He came to me first. He cared what I thought, and I fucked up.
A relationship with him is proving more work than I thought. I stand up slowly from the couch and walk to my bedroom. I get into the cold bed, hating he isn’t here with me. I love the way he holds me, how he takes care of me and makes me feel safe. I love our talks and sharing our dreams. I’m falling in love with Al. The words fall from my mouth and they feel right.
I can’t drive to him now, and I sure as hell can’t call him and dump something like that on him over the phone. I try to fall asleep, hoping he’ll be back in the morning and we can talk. I’m emotionally exhausted. Before I drift off to sleep, I say a small prayer asking to have just one more chance with him. I hope it isn’t too late.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Al
“I’m not in the fucking mood,” I say to Blake as he walks up to the barstool next to me and takes a seat.
I take a long sip of beer and try to ignore the asshole.
“Do you think I care what you are in the mood for? You stroll into town and steal my woman. You spend Christmas with my fucking family.” He points to his chest, and I can immediately see that he’s far from being sober.
I don’t engage.
“Fuck wad,” he shouts. I’m angry enough as it is over my fight with Sam; this guy is just pushing all the wrong buttons in me tonight. I won’t be so
patient and understanding like last time.
“Watch it. I’m not in the mood,” I warn because right now I would like nothing more than to turn this guy into my punching bag.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. Sam is mine. She’s always been mine. I was the first guy to fuck her, and I’m going to be the last,” he says. That’s it. I lose my cool. I stand up from my stool, pushing it back. It crashes to the floor, and I take Blake by his fucking collar.
“Don’t fucking talk about Sam like that.” I pull him up and into my face as I grit my teeth with warning.
A slow smile spreads across his face.
“Blake, that’s enough.” Some guy I don’t know comes around and tries to break it up. I remember he was with Leslie. He wasn’t very talkative, so I don’t remember his name. That’s when I notice Kell and Gage walking through the door. They spot me holding onto Blake’s collar and run over to us.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Kell looks up at me, but I’m seething.
“Back off, man,” the other guy says.
“Blake you’re drunk. Just go buzz off,” Gage says to him.
“Fuck no.” Blake spits. “He is fucking living with the Belmonts. That is not okay,” Blake says. “She is mine.” He turns his attention back to me, and he swings a fist. I don’t notice because my attention is on Kell. He punches me across my cheek. Even in his drunken state, he is able to land a hard blow. Pain radiates through my face and pulsates through my head.
“Fucking hell.” The anger I’m feeling from earlier comes to a boil, and I clock Blake across his face. The asshole is so drunk, he just bounces back up, and now we are sparing.
“You think if you hit me hard enough it will change the fact that she is the mother of my child? Sam Belmont was always mine and will always be mine,” he says, holding his fists up in front of his face. His words are like a sucker punch I’m not expecting.
“Fucking hell, Blake,” Kell shouts. I look to Kell and then to Gage. They give me a sympathetic look but nothing on their face indicates this asshole just made up a lie. As I pull my attention away, he hits me again—this time on the other cheek.
“Fucking asshole.” The pain takes control of me, and I tear into him, pounding hard on him. I get in shot after shot. Some guys around the bar try to stop me. I don’t know how many of them it takes to separate us, but the men at the bar finally succeed in pulling Blake off to the other end of the bar while they maintain a circle around me to ensure I don’t pounce. Regardless, the fight has been sucked right out of me.
I’d asked Sam what her connection to Blake was. She made their relationship sound like it had been about sex and trouble. Two young kids getting it on just to get off. She did not fucking mention having a kid. My mind spins when Kell walks up to me. She looks at me like I’m a wounded animal that may run away as she nears.
“Can you explain this to me?” I ask. “I feel like a fucking idiot.” I don’t need to ask her if Blake was lying because I know he was telling the truth.
“I don’t know what to say, Al.” She shakes her head. “They never married or anything like that. If you want to know more, you should talk to Sam,” she says, and my frustration just grows. I wonder if this is the reason she kept pushing me away because in the back of her mind she was holding on to them being a family.
And that’s when it hits me. “Ethan?”
Kell nods.
“Fuck. Now Christmas Eve makes a whole lot of sense.” I cough out.
“Blake isn’t supposed to see Ethan at all. That was the deal,” Kell explains, and it confuses me even more. Ethan is Autumn and Mack’s kid. He doesn’t live with Sam, yet Sam has been fucking the father of her child all this time. Nothing makes sense to me.
“I fell in love with a woman who was never going to be mine to begin with,” I stumble back, looking at Kell.
“It’s not like that, Al.” She picks up her hand and rubs my arm.
“That’s exactly it.” I turn out of the bar. The men that circled me back away, even though I sense they watch me get into my SUV. I take off, back to my non-family’s cabin. When I get there, my mind is reeling. I want to rip the place apart. I can’t sleep. I can’t even sit still, so I leave the cabin and walk into the woods at the back of the house. There seems to be a long trail leading nowhere. I begin to wonder why the hell I ended up in Holston. I thought it was to find the love of my life, now I realize it wasn’t. I learned the meaning of a hard day’s work. I fell in love again. It was all meaningless because at the end of the day, I’m back where I started. I reach into my pocket for my cell phone. I remember that I didn’t have it at the bar. I trace my steps back and realize I probably left it on the counter in Sam’s kitchen. Fucking great. I was hoping to use the fucking compass. I walk and walk and walk, and my life seems pointless.
I figure I’ll head back to Chicago and give Ainsley Stapleton a call. Might as well start building my political career sooner rather than later. As I think the thought, I realize that I don’t know if politics will make me happy now. I enjoyed working on the ranch with Sam. It was nice working with my hands. No boss except for the sun and the moon and the day’s work ahead of me then spending a quiet evening in with my woman. I don’t know that I would have wanted to stay on the ranch, but I would have liked to do something low key. Being in a political role means working around the clock. There’s no time for quiet evenings in. Every moment of my day is calculated toward a greater goal. More success. Moving up. Where would it have ended? What would it have given me? I know that politics would never fulfill me in the same way as building a life with Sam would. I realize that maybe Colton and I are best friends because we aren’t much different from one another. At the end of the day, we want a woman to love, a family to care for.
I kick the snow-covered branches at my feet. The temperatures are dropping, and I begin to shiver from the inside out. I turn around and head back to the cabin, thankful there is a strong light out back that serves as a focal point. I make it back to the cabin and my head spins. I remember Sam told me she wouldn’t follow me like I would follow her.
My gut instinct is to call a cab and take the first flight back to Chicago. The anger bubbling in my chest causes my mind to push in that direction. I should head home and forget about Sam, but when I think of Chicago I realize Colton no longer lives there. And who or what do I have waiting for me there? And worst of all, how can I leave when my heart lives here in Holston? My fucking emotions are like a tidal wave whipping me around. I can’t leave without seeing Sam. I need to go to her before I make any rash decisions. I want her to explain why she lied to me about her relationship with Blake. I won’t be able to move on.
I walk straight past the cabin to my SUV. I blast the heat because it feels like my toes will snap off. My mind races a mile a minute as I curse the fucking cold weather in Colorado. My thoughts pull me to Sam and Ethan and how she behaved with him. I chalked it up to her being a great aunt. I put the car in drive and head to the Belmont Ranch, needing answers.
Chapter Forty
Sam
“Sam, you gotta wake up, honey.” Someone is shaking me. Why is Kell in my dream? I was just dreaming of the summer fair. This doesn’t make any sense. “Sam, come on.” I feel a hand on my arm, and my eyes blink open. I’m startled at first and turn to see Kell in my room with her jacket on.
“Holy shit. You scared me half to death. What are you doing here? Are Gage and Theo okay?” I ask frantically.
She waves her hand in the air. “They’re fine. I have some bad news.” She frowns.
“You know it’s not okay to sneak into a grown woman’s room in the middle of the night and tell her you have bad news,” I chide and sit up in bed, blinking the sleep out of my eyes.
“It’s only eleven o’clock,” she says, looking to the clock by my bed. I guess I crashed early, after all the stress of fighting with Al and then Papa’s bombshell lecture.
“Well, what is it?” I ask since there must have be
en something urgent to bring her this way.
She’s bites her lip. “Try not to freak out, okay?” I can tell that whatever it is, she is scared to get me all stirred up because of my injury, but I’m feeling a lot better.
“You’re making me very anxious. Can you just spit it out?” I urge her.
“Al went by Moe’s tonight and Blake was there,” she begins.
“Fuck.” Kell bites at her finger, trying to rip off her nail.
“I tried to separate them, but Blake was getting in Al’s face, and he seemed to be in a bad mood to begin with, and well … Blake told him that you’re the mother of his child. He kinda said you were his and he wasn’t going to let you go,” she says, and my heart sinks. I throw the blankets off me, forgetting I’m wearing a pair of panties and a T-shirt. I charge over to my closet and pull out a pair of my warm fleece pajama pants.
I pace my room. “This can’t be happening.” I flick on the lights and take a seat across from Kell on my bed. “I need you to tell me exactly what happened. To the last detail. I need to know exactly what Blake said.” I’m trembling as I wait for Kell to speak.
“I told you exactly what happened. Al knows Ethan is your kid. He put your bizarre behavior on Christmas Eve together and figured it out.” She presses her lips together. “It’s not the end of the world, Sam. He would have had to find out eventually,” she says, trying to convince me.
“He walked out of here tonight. We had a fight and he left,” I say, feeling like the ground is about to open up and swallow me whole. I wrap my arms around my torso and the tears start. “Everything is just so messed-up.” I shake my head. “Me, I’m so messed-up. That was my secret. A secret I don’t share because it hurts too much.”
Kell stands from the bed. She embraces me in a hug. “Honey, the whole town knows that secret, which doesn’t make it much of a secret now does it? No one talks about it because we all love and respect you, and we know you were trying to do right by your boy, but you’ve been dead inside for the last five years. Ever since you gave him to Mack and she left for New York, you have not been the same. You gave up on college and you work this ranch as a form of punishment. This small town loves you, Sam Belmont, but we’ve watched you eat away at yourself too long.” She pauses, and I allow her words to sink in. Everything she says is true. I don’t have a solid rebuttal.
Mr. So Wrong Page 20
