For the Longest Time (27 page)

He stared at her. “What?”

“I quit. She's not going to, not until she gets what she wants. Your friends hate me but they love her, and you're just so damn attached to them, so what do you think is going to happen? I've lived it already. I know.”

“Sam—”

“I honestly thought it was different this time,” she said.

He looked at her, at the vindication writ large across her face, and knew the truth. “No, you didn't,” he said. “Not really.”

Her eyes flashed. “What's that supposed to mean? If you think that, then explain why I agreed to go out with you in the first place.”

“Same reason I asked. You couldn't forget me. And I couldn't forget you. That's different than believing it'll work. You've been waiting for me to walk away since day one.”

“Bull,” she said. “You want me to turn into something I can't be, Jake. You've got this life here you want me to fit into, and I don't. I never did.”

“That's bull, too,” Jake shot back, his own temper flickering to life beneath the hurt. “You fit in your own
way. This, the Cove, all of it, is your place too, Sam. You use the misfit stuff as a handy excuse for when you want to run away, just like you're doing now.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Yes, it's just an excuse. All those people in there who are so important to you were really just waiting to be my friends. I just misinterpreted the words ‘freak' and ‘bitch' and ‘psycho.' I'm sure we'll all sit down and have coffee together really soon. Which we could, if things were different, because I'm
not
running. Where do you think I'm running to, Jake? I'm stuck here.” She threw out her arms with a bitter laugh. “I. Am. Stuck!”

“You're running away from me.”

Her face tightened. “I can't do this. You kiss your ex and I'm the bad guy. You won't make a clean break but I'm the one hanging on to the past. Whatever.” She jerked her head. “You should go back to your friends. I'm sure they'll be thrilled I finally took off.”

He heard the frustration creep into his voice. “I don't give a damn what they think, Sam. I give a damn what you think.”

Sam's pain was clear in her expression, in the way she held herself. “And I don't know what to think. The way you looked at her . . .”

“I cared about her once, Sam. She's looking for something that isn't there anymore,” he said, silently willing her to give in, just a little, and let him in. “But I don't think this is all about her, is it?”

She just shook her head. “It's so easy for you to stand there and tell me how I feel. You have no idea.”

He raked a hand through his hair. “I would if you'd tell me! You always listened, Sam. I'd listen too, if you'd give me a chance. But we're going nowhere if you can't
let me in. You've got to forgive me if we're going to get anywhere together. Because it's pretty obvious you haven't.”

“Forgive you? I
loved
you,” she said, her voice breaking. Simple words that arrowed straight through his heart.

“Sam, I . . . I . . .”

“I loved you,” she said again. “You weren't just some guy I liked who hurt me. You were my first love, and you broke my heart. So while I get what you're saying, you're the one who doesn't understand. That stupid picture I did for you forever ago . . . You know, when you pretended you didn't know me in front of your friends? That was my stupid, clumsy way of telling you how I felt. You made me think I mattered. Instead, when it came right down to it, you treated me like a stranger. Worse than a stranger. So you left, and I left, and I stayed gone. There were other guys. I cared about them. A couple I cared about quite a bit. But there was never another you. Then I came back. . . .”

Her voice wobbled a little, and she wiped angrily at the corner of her eye with her fist. “I came back, and there you were. Looking at me differently because I changed up the packaging, I guess, and I knew that, but”—she looked at him helplessly—“I'm still the girl you walked away from without a second thought. And it's so hard, because underneath it all, I
am
the same. And the way I feel about you hasn't changed at all. I still love you.”

“You love me,” he echoed, amazed. He'd never known. And looking back, he had no idea how he hadn't. But he finally understood just how deeply his rejection had cut. And he wished like hell he could go back and
change it, because there were some things she didn't understand, either.

“Yeah,” she said, sniffling a little before she straightened and gave a small, humorless smile. “I do. So. I'm going to go home now. Because you're right. I haven't managed to forgive you, not really. I definitely haven't forgiven them,” she said, jerking her head back toward the Tavern. “And you're all bound up in one package, even now. It's impossible to reconcile.”

“I didn't know,” he said softly. The emotion in her voice was staggering. There had been more, he realized. More he didn't know about, more cruel barbs thrown at her because of what he'd done.

How could he begin to explain why?

“At the time, I figured you must. People thought I'd . . . that we'd . . .” She shook her head, her smile bitter. “Well, why else would you have been sneaking around with a girl like me, right? It was all a big joke. But you know what? It doesn't matter anymore. We don't get do-overs. All we can do is lug our baggage around with us and do the best we can. And I'm lugging mine home.”

“Sam,” he said. “I don't even know where to start. But I need you to listen to me. I didn't know, but I should have. I should have paid attention instead of burying my head in the sand. My life was so wrapped up in other people, my friends, teammates, in who I thought I was around here. I thought if I broke away, if I made myself forget about you, I'd still have enough. I was so damn afraid of losing myself, not to mention the only people I thought I could depend on.”

“You could have depended on me,” she said, and in the darkness she was sixteen again, the heart he'd broken in her hands for him to see.

“I wasn't expecting you,” he said. What else could he say? “You were perfect, and the way I wanted you scared the hell out of me. I didn't know what to do.”

“And now?”

He shook his head, still reeling from everything she'd said. “I just want to figure it out together, Sam. Together.”

She stared at him, then shook her head slowly. “If you haven't figured it out by now,” she said, “then it's better for both of us to just . . . stop. Otherwise it's just going to keep hurting, and I can't . . . I just
can't
.” Her anger was gone, replaced by a sadness that seemed to envelop her completely. And he knew she meant to start again by finally letting him go.

“Good-bye, Jake.”

Zoe reappeared with her friends, moving like the phantoms they'd appeared to be. None of them spared him a glance as they encircled Sam and ushered her away from him. All he could do was watch as she walked away.

O
ver the next week, Sam threw herself into work. It was what she had, and what she knew, so she hung on tight and waited for the hurt to go away.

He didn't call. She hadn't really expected it, because crying in your costume in the parking lot of a bar while you told a guy you'd been in love with him for over ten years wasn't usually the way to start a lifetime of happiness. Still, she'd needed him to know, before things went any further, before Cici got her hooks in any deeper. And before she completely lost her footing and let herself imagine a future that just wasn't in the cards.

They were too different. Eventually, he'd figure out that beneath the swan there was still an ugly duckling, same as she ever was. And she needed to be with people who she was sure liked the person she was, who weren't going to eventually be disappointed by an illusion.

This was best. Even if it hurt like hell.

She painted. That, at least, had returned, along with all sorts of emotions that she tried to appreciate being able to tap into. She went to the gallery and let Zoe tease her out of her unhappiness for brief periods of time. She let her mother coddle her, and her sister give her instructions on how to move on even though she had no idea
what Emma's qualifications to be any kind of a relationship counselor were. It was probably better not to ask.

She didn't know what Jake did. She had no idea where he was, or what he thought, or what he was doing, apart from working. She knew because she'd passed his truck sitting in the parking lot of the animal hospital all week. Seeing it had prompted some car crying—like, ugly, sloppy crying—so she now took pains to go a different, albeit longer, way to the gallery.

It was better for both of them to move on, she told herself.

It would just be nice if she could quit feeling like some important part of herself had died.

By Friday, Sam had gone from devastation to just feeling hollowed out inside. She guessed that was an improvement, even though it didn't seem like one. She was quietly dusting everything, which was an excellent cover for brooding. Zoe had gone out to get them lunch. When the little silver bell rang above the door, her heart clutched like it always did.

Knock it off, she thought furiously. You have to stop waiting for something that isn't going to happen. You said good-bye; he took it seriously. Move on.

Plastering a smile on her face that she hoped was at least semi-convincing, Sam turned. The smile froze.

“Shane,” she said. “What can I help you with?”

He seemed to take up an inordinate amount of space, like he always did. It was a shame he was such a jerk, Sam thought, because he was actually handsome. Not that she'd wish him on anyone. Shane shifted uncomfortably in his expensive suit, looking as out of place as she'd ever seen him. He lingered just inside the doorway.

“He didn't know,” Shane said.

Her eyebrows lifted. “Excuse me?”

“Jake. He didn't know that Cici went after you the way she did. He never knew what Thea said to you, either.” He paused, frowning at a painting. “I think, if he had, things might have been a little different.”

She didn't know why he was telling her this, why he'd bothered to come. Sam carefully set the polish and dust rag aside and walked slowly toward him. He looked as though he thought she might hit him too, even if she'd have to stand on her tiptoes to do it. She didn't feel anger, though. That seemed to have been exhausted last weekend. All she felt was weary.

“I know that already. But it wouldn't have been much different if he had,” Sam said. “We were a bad fit, Shane, when it comes down to it. I appreciate you telling me, though, even if you don't like me much.”

“It's not that.”

“No?” She arched an eyebrow. “Did I miss something?”

Shane exhaled loudly and tipped his head back, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He seemed to be struggling with something. She didn't feel too bad about letting him, curious though she was. Finally, he looked at her, his blue eyes serious.

“I don't dislike you. I don't even really know you. I do know that whatever's going on with you and Jake right now is partly my fault, which means I need to do what I can to try and fix it.”

Sam frowned. “It's not your fault, Shane.”

“Some of it is, yeah. I know I gave you a rough time back in school. I'm sorry for that. You didn't deserve it.”

She shrugged. “No. I didn't.”

“I liked how things were. I would have liked it even
better if Cici had given up on Jake and taken a look at me, too, but kids are stupid. She was upset; I got upset on her behalf. It wasn't justified. But that was what happened.”

“Ah,” she said, remembering the way Shane had been so focused on Cici the day she'd gotten her warning. That explained his presence—puppy dog syndrome. But it still didn't change anything. “I appreciate the apology, Shane. I'm okay. It was a long time ago.” And right now, it felt like about a million years.

“It was and it wasn't,” Shane said. “I didn't expect you to like me, Sam. After all that, I figured it wasn't worth putting any effort in. Why bother? I was a complete dick to you. And I figured this was some kind of weird closure thing with him, so I tried to ignore it. But he's different with you,” he continued. “He's happier. Well, he was.” He looked away. “Don't walk away from him just because he has shitty taste in friends.”

Sam chewed at her lip for a moment, considering him. Then she said, “The fact that you came here to tell me all this is kind of a testament to your non-shittiness as a friend, Shane.”

He breathed out a soft, rueful laugh. “Yeah, well, he's not really feeling that way right now. I told him what happened back then. He didn't know we all knew he was seeing you. Or whatever you two were doing. He had no idea how we all tried to get in the way. Things always got messy when he and Cici broke up, and everybody just wanted a kickass summer. She wanted him back, so we put them back together. You didn't matter.” He looked pained. “I mean, you did. You know what I mean. You being so different made you easy to hurt. I told you I'm kind of a dick.”

Sam sighed. “Kind of. But I can see why he likes you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” she said, crossing her arms. “There's an honesty to your assholery that is almost endearing.”

“I get that sometimes,” he said. “Anyway, he's my best friend. He's a good guy. And he's crazy about you. I don't think he ever got over you. I thought it was weird, but I don't actually have relationships. So.”

Sam watched him, unsure of how to react. He didn't seem to have much of a filter. But he also didn't seem to be quite the irredeemable jerk that she remembered. Close, but not quite.

“Well. Like I said before, Shane, I appreciate all this, but it's not just one issue. Jake and I—”

“He pretty much told all of us to fuck off,” Shane interrupted. “If that makes you feel any better.”

She almost said no, then decided not to bother lying about it. “Kind of.”

“Sad thing is, the only ones who bothered to hunt him down afterward were Fitz and me. So he's stuck with a couple of us.” He shrugged. “He's still pissed at me, but I'll just wear him down until he gets over it. He's miserable, though,” he continued, “and I can't fix that. You can.”

She remembered what he'd said to her:
I wish you'd have a little faith in me.

But she hadn't. She'd been so determined that history would repeat itself that she'd made sure it did. Only this time, she'd been the one to walk away. He hadn't told her he loved her . . . but he'd been standing there in shock, too. And even if he wasn't there with it yet, the fact that Shane was here pleading on his behalf meant something.

Maybe more than something.

I'm an idiot
. She'd brought this past week of misery on herself. But maybe she'd needed it to figure out that it wasn't the past holding her back any longer. It was just her. And if she was going to move forward from here, the path her life would take was entirely her choice. She knew she could make it here in the Cove on her own.

But she didn't want to. This place was home . . . but not without him.

“Damn it,” she muttered, then looked at her watch. Jake would be eating lunch. His sad little brown bag lunch with his pudding cup. The man really did need a keeper. It might as well be her.

Zoe walked in the front door carrying their lunch and looked between Sam and Shane. “Did I miss something?” she asked.

“I need to do something,” Sam said. “Can I . . . Do you mind . . . ?”

She seemed to understand immediately, and under other circumstances, Sam might have laughed at Zoe's obvious relief. “Go get him, Sam.”

She dashed to the back and got her purse. On her way out, she grabbed Shane's arm, lifted up on her toes, and planted an impulsive kiss on his cheek. He looked down at her, stunned. “I seriously did something right?” he asked.

“Yes. And thank you.”

Shane grinned. “Awesome. He so owes me.”

Sam shook her head and hurried out the door.

* * *

The office was fairly quiet when she walked in. The only sound was the pounding of her heart in her ears. She hadn't been this nervous since the first time she'd come in, though this was still different. Then, she hadn't wanted
him to get too close. This time she was afraid he wouldn't want to.

But whatever happened, she owed him this.

“Sam,” Cass said, smiling at her. “Love the coat.”

“Oh, thanks,” she said, flustered. Coat? What coat? She looked down and remembered the new plum-colored coat she'd bought a few days ago during some retail therapy.

“You want to see Jake? You can head on back, he was just eating his lunch.”

“Yes. Thanks,” Sam replied, feeling a little silly at how breathless she sounded. She almost missed the encouraging little smile Cass gave her as she headed past her. She knew. Of course she knew. This was the Cove and everyone knew everything that was going on. But suddenly, that didn't bother her at all.

The door to his office was open. She took a deep breath, turned the corner . . .

“Jake, I—”

But he wasn't there. His desk was empty, a crumpled brown bag sitting on the top of it. Sam let out a shaky breath as the adrenaline rushed through her system unchecked. She stepped inside, unsure of whether to wait or leave a note. Then her eyes went to where his Iron Man poster had been, and she went completely still. It was something framed and matted. Something new.

No, she realized. Not new. It was her picture.

She moved forward, barely feeling it as her feet hit the ground, until she was right in front of it. He'd smoothed out the wrinkles, though she could still see the faint creases beneath the glass. And as she looked at it, the memory of making it came rushing back. She'd used oil pastels, the bright, young green of the Witch Tree in
late spring leaping off the paper. Beneath the tree were two figures. A girl with long purple hair, leaning against the tree holding a book. And a boy with spiky brown hair, resting his head in her lap as they watched the day go by. On his shoulder, their hands were joined.

It was everything she'd wanted. And the memory of her feelings as she'd worked on it was so strong that she ached.

“I told you I never forgot you.” Jake's voice, soft and sweet and right behind her. She turned to see him standing there, close enough to touch, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his lab coat. The look in his eyes told her everything.

“The truth is, Sam, I love you, too. I've loved you for the longest time. I just wasn't smart enough to realize it until you came back home. Don't make me lose you all over again.”

She tried to speak, but nothing would come. There was too much to say. So she simply walked into his waiting arms and kissed him until he could have no doubt that she was done running. Done running from home, and done running from him. After a time, she pulled back just enough to touch her forehead to his, looking into eyes that were full of everything she'd ever wanted, if she were brave enough to reach out and take it.

“I'm not going anywhere,” she said. “I'm home.”