Hot Mess (24 page)

Then, his senior year he had quit football and let the darkness take over. The fights with his parents escalated, as he rejected the idea of college. His trips to Dallas increased, but he never really said what they were about, just some party. He drifted away from Rachel, and she'd let him. After graduation, he'd left, without a goodbye.

"Mama?" She started at Sophia's voice breaking into her thoughts.

"Yes, Sweetie?"

"I'm finished, can I go play, now?"

Smiling sweetly at her daughter, the only good thing in her life right now, "Sure, Honey."

Was she the only good thing? There was Sam. Sam wanted her, even knowing what he knew about her. Sam, who was the picture of health, with his daily runs, his work outs, his life-saving. He was so freaking perfect. He was a single father, doing his best to raise his daughter in a caring environment. He was absolutely gorgeous. He was nice, and tried to take care of her.

She remembered all the soup he'd brought her when she was sick. He took her to the hospital. Hell, he'd broken into her house to help her.

And all she'd done was push him away.

Because she was dangerous. In her mind, there was still danger in sex with Rachel, and she couldn't think of a scenario with Sam that didn't involve sex. Even after everything, she still wanted him too badly.

Rachel watched her daughter on the merry-go-round, holding on for dear life, pigtails swinging wildly, as an older boy spun the apparatus around and around.

That's how Rachel felt, like she was holding on for dear life, while somebody else pushed her around and around, at a dizzying pace. She felt the urgent need to get off the ride and regain control of her life, of her emotions.

She hadn't told Dr. Baine about her depression on her last visit. She didn't want him messing with her anti-depressants. They were bad enough about evening out her emotions. On the medicine, she felt less depressed, sure, but she also felt less of everything else. Rachel felt less joy, less desire, less love. She had been the picture of apathy. She had been tempted to wean herself off of them last year, but was glad she hadn't.

The depression had attacked her like a mountain lion attacking prey. She'd been vulnerable, handicapped by the cast on her leg, alone in her house with her laptop and her followers needing her, always needing her, never thinking for themselves, always wanting her to solve their problems, when she had so many of her own.

She had succumbed to the mountain lion and let it devour her. Of course, it had taken its time, playing with its prey first. The depression had crept up, flanking her, making her feel the desperation of being trapped. Then it had pounced, pinning her to the ground, unable to move, panic rising within. She had felt the claws ripping into her skin, tearing chunks of her flesh, making her unrecognizable to herself.

Yet, Rachel had kept going through the motions of her life, taking her medicine, caring for her daughter, answering everybody's questions, posting her inane blogs.

And then, Sam had come back and fought the mountain lion off her, giving her hope for a future with him.

Was it possible?

Taking a deep breath, she reached for her cell phone and sent a text message to Sam.

I'm sorry about last night.

Where are you?

At the park, with Sophie.

So, you're okay?

Yeah. I'm okay.

Who was that guy at your house yesterday?

She'd known he would ask. They'd been sitting there on her porch when he'd come home, and she'd seen him notice the strange car. He had probably gone inside and watched them through his window. A warm feeling surged through her at the thought of his curiosity, his protectiveness. She texted him back.

Come over for dinner, and I'll tell you.

Across the upper area of the room, heat begins to radiate downward, heating the contents of the room. When the overall temperature reaches the ignition point of another substance in the room, a new chain reaction combustion site occurs and additional heat is added beyond the initial source of fire. As each item in the room follows suit, more and more heat is created and more and more items ignite. In a very short time, the entire room and all of its contents are on fire….It is important to know the mechanics of a flashover in order to recognize its development. --From
Firefighter's Handbook, Essentials of Firefighting and Emergency Response

Sam was off that day, trying not to come up with improbable situations for the strange man at Rachel's house yesterday. But he couldn't stop his brain from coming up with scenarios that logically, Sam knew probably weren't true.

He was an ex-boyfriend. He was Sophie's father. He was an ex-husband. He was a rapist. He was her brother. He was a cousin. He was a drug dealer. He was a conman. The possibilities were endless, and Sam knew any one of them, or none of them could be true.

He'd been sorely disappointed the night before, that she wouldn't talk to him, and he'd suppressed the urge to bust down her door and force her to talk. But cooler heads had prevailed, and he'd managed to walk away.

The sense of relief he'd felt when she'd texted him this afternoon was overwhelming. He'd been afraid she would shut him out, and with the way his mind had been working against him, he would never know the truth.

Not that the truth mattered. With all of the scenarios pushing themselves into his consciousness, he only felt the desire to be closer to her. And that surprised him.

He'd been so protective of Amanda, not getting close to Rachel when he'd initially found out about her, because he didn't want Amanda to get hurt. Now, that he'd come to terms with his feelings for Rachel, he'd realized that nothing mattered about her past. It didn't matter how she became HIV positive, it just mattered that she become a part of his life.

Standing, he walked down the hall, to Amanda's room. Knocking softly before entering, he saw her on her bed, writing something.

"I'm fixing to hook all the junk back up in the living room. We've been invited to Rachel's for dinner, and I need you and Sophie to come back here and play for awhile. I need to talk to her mom. Okay?"

She squealed in delight and rushed to Sam to hug his waist. "Thanks, Daddy."

The endearment tore at his heartstrings, and he suspected that she was aware of the effect on him. "Just this one night, got it? You're back to being grounded tomorrow."

"Okay."

"Good. Now I'm going to shower and change, you get ready to go. We're leaving in an hour."

"Thank you, Daddy."

"Here I was, looking forward to a home-cooked meal." Sam said, eyeing the take-out containers with mock wariness. "I thought you didn't do take-out."

Rachel blushed. "Sorry. I wanted to treat Sophie. She doesn't get it very often. But there is a home made cake for dessert," she ended hopefully.

"I was teasing you." He repressed the urge to hug her, standing there in the kitchen. The girls were underfoot though, rummaging through containers to see what was in store. "I love Chinese food."

"Good."

They had a pleasant meal, Sam declaring utensils useless while eating Chinese, and insisting that everybody use chopsticks. To his chagrin, he was the last one finished eating, Rachel having surprised him with her deftness with the implements. Even Sophie and Amanda had eaten faster than he had.

He didn't mind, though. As much as he wanted to talk to Rachel, to tell her that her past didn't matter to him, that he loved her, and wanted to be with her, he put off the discussion. He could see she was reserved, also. She was quiet through dinner, only speaking when somebody asked her a question, politely declining seconds.

The girls chattered incessantly about school and the upcoming weekend. Amanda was regaling Sophia with tales of the boredom in being grounded. Sam chuckled to himself at the light in Sophia's eyes, as she tried to come up with something to do that would get her grounded, too, but not so much as to really be painful. Little girls could be transparent as glass and didn't like to feel left out.

Once dinner was finished, the containers thrown in the garbage, and everything put away, Sam dismissed the girls with a stern warning not to trash his house. They ran off, delighted at being re-joined at the hip, if only a temporary reprieve.

"Sophie doesn't quite realize it, but when you grounded Amanda, you sort of grounded her, too." Rachel said wistfully, watching the girls leave with a small smile on her face.

"Yeah, I figured as much, but it couldn't be helped. I had to do something."

"I know. I would have done the same thing."

"Rachel." He wanted her to look at him, but her eyes went to the floor, so he walked to her and reached for her hand, squeezing it gently. Finally, her eyes rose, and the pain there took his breath away. "You don't have to tell me anything. Your past doesn't matter to me."

"Yes, I do. I've never told anybody all of it, and I think I need to tell you so that we can get this mountain lion off me."

Sam looked around the kitchen in confusion. "Mountain lion?"

"Never mind. Come on in the living room."

He followed her to the couch and sat next to her there, still clasping her hand in his reassuringly.

Rachel took a deep breath and began. "First of all, I have no idea who Sophie's father is." She expelled the breath in a loud whooshing noise and continued. "I was a freshman in college, at the University of Houston. My new room mates were pledging at a sorority, and we were all invited to a frat party. I had come from a pretty repressed background and was trying to find my own place in the big city. I didn't know anybody, and was anxious to make friends, be accepted, so I went." She leaned her head back on the sofa cushions and closed her eyes, intent on telling her tale. "There was an insane amount of alcohol and some drugs, and I drank a lot, and did some stuff, and things got crazy." She inhaled deeply again.

"You don't have to tell me, Rachel."

"Yes, I do. You need to know…everything. I need to know that you care for me, even after hearing all of this, okay?"

Sam nodded, "You know that nothing you say will change my feelings about you." He was overwhelmed by the range of emotions surging through him and wanted nothing more than to reassure this wonderful woman sitting next to him. Rachel stared at Sam a moment, as if not sure she could believe him, and continued.

"I blacked out most of that night, but I do remember going into a room with a group of guys and having sex with each and every one of them."

Sam's rage resurfaced, but he gritted his teeth, and willed it to subside. The idea of a bunch of drunk frat boys taking advantage of Rachel killed him. She noticed.

"I was a willing participant, Sam. I wanted to see what it was like to be wanted by that many boys. I was curious about it. And I would have done anything to be accepted into that group of people. I can't really explain it. I had moved to Houston from a town a lot like Serendipity, and it was a bit of a culture shock. Everybody else seemed to have money and class and popularity. I was smitten with the idea of being a part of something bigger. I was eighteen, and young, and immature, and naïve." She swallowed and looked at him. "I want some tea. Let me go fix some, real quick." She started to get up, but Sam put a hand on her knee.

"Let me. I'll get it." He felt a sudden urge to move.

Sam went to the kitchen and put the tea pot on to heat the water, then busied himself getting the cups and stuff out. He kept his hands busy to keep his mind off of what she'd said. But he couldn't stop imagining her willingly having sex with however many guys she was talking about. Jesus, what kind of self-esteem issues would a girl have to have to do something like that? His thoughts immediately turned to Amanda.

He couldn't really relate to her need to fit in at eighteen. When he'd been eighteen, his mother had been diagnosed with Stage four lymphoma, and he went through things that no teenager should have to do. He'd been holding his dad together, and nursing his sick mother at that age. Sure, he'd wanted a normal life, like anybody, but he never wanted to be a frat boy. Certainly not one, who effectively took advantage of drunk girls.

Returning to the living room with a tray of tea stuff, he set it on the table in front of Rachel, and watched as she fixed her cup and took a fortifying sip.

"The next day, I took the ultimate walk of shame, effectively labeling myself as a slut for the remainder of my days there, which weren't many." She laughed ruefully at the memory. "My room mates shut me out. The frat boys didn't acknowledge me again. I couldn't focus on my school work, wondering what I had become. Then, about six weeks later, I realized I was pregnant. When I went to the doctor, I found out that I was HIV positive." She took another sip of her tea, with shaking hands. "I just assumed that I'd gotten it from one of those guys. All this time, I'd assumed that I'd gotten sick the same night I got pregnant." She inhaled a shuddering breath. "So, I dropped out of school and moved back home."