4:43PM: You need me, baby?
Baby. I snort. Questions like this from Samantha are always loaded—always a test. I need for her to leave me alone. I need for her to stop holding shit I’ll never be able to change or fix over my head. But no, I don’t need her. Maybe I’m wrong for feeling that way now, but after everything that’s happened, I can’t force myself to feel any of the love I once felt towards her.
I feel disappointment, pity and loathing. And yeah, I feel fucking fear. Not love.
I touch the mute button on my navigation screen to silence the Five Finger Death Punch song that’s playing on the radio. I think of what I should say to her, but then I say fuck it and get right to the point.
4:48PM: Can you talk? We need to talk about this shit between us.
I can nearly hear the laughter in her soft voice when she immediately counters a minute later.
4:49PM: This shit between us?
Is she fucking with me?
4:49PM: Don’t play games, Sam. You know exactly what I mean.
She doesn’t answer right away. Probably coming up with ways to take advantage of the situation, ways to squeeze more cash out of me before she commits to having an adult conversation. But when she does eventually respond, she manages to surprise me.
She’s already in California. In Santa Monica, to be exact. She wants to meet me in an hour, but I’m having a hard time trying to figure out why the hell she’s here of all places.
I’m almost expecting her to send one more message. A request for me to bring my checkbook or something equally as fucked up, but she doesn’t. That just makes me wonder what the hell she’s got planned.
I make it to the Pier with a half an hour to spare and go ahead in to the amusement park we’ve agreed to meet at. Sam’s rarely ever on time, but she’s already waiting for me near the entrance, pacing in front of the food court and taking long drags on a cigarette.
She notices me almost immediately, despite my black beanie and sunglasses. Her slate gray eyes drag over me, a mixture of appreciation, lust, and disgust filling them.
“You still look like you,” she comments, the moment I’m within hearing distance. She dips her head to the tattoos on my wrist, which are somewhat visible even though I’m wearing long sleeves. “You’re not fooling anyone, Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe. You never have.” Then she shrugs her thin shoulders. “Well, your disguises haven’t fooled anyone. You’ve managed to convince everyone that you’re such a—”
“Keep that shit down,” I warn. She starts to respond, but I pluck the cigarette from her mouth, drop it on the ground and crush it beneath the sole of my shoe. ”And don’t do that in here. There’s kids around..”
She stands on her toes—it doesn’t help her much in the height department compared to me—and presses her thin body close to mine. She’s so fucking skinny. She’s lost even more weight since I last saw her and that was only a couple of weeks ago.
“Afraid I’ll get kicked out?”
I cock an eyebrow. “No, thinking some soccer mom will beat the shit out of you for blowing smoke in her kid’s face.”
She lowers herself until she’s standing flat on her feet and then leans back, glaring up at me with eyes that look too big for her face. When we were still married—hell, even in the years after when we fucked each other because it seemed impossible to let go—she was healthy, beautiful. Not strung out on everything she could buy with my money.
“And here I was thinking you didn’t care if I walked off the top of a building, Lucas,” she says, and I cock my head to the side and force the corners of my lips up. She returns the expression.
“Why are you here, Sam?”
She ignores my question and instead, loops her arm through mine. I want to shake her off, but for the sake of not making a scene and not hurting her, I let her hold on. “Walk with me, baby,” she says. I don’t miss the desperation in her voice. I’ve heard it so many times over the past few years that I can pick it out in a crowded room.
But fuck, it’s something I never want to hear.
We walk for a long time, all the way back to the Ferris wheel, before either of us say anything. At last, I untangle myself away from her grip and touch either side of her shoulders gently. “I’m not going to spend the rest of my life doing this with you.”
She looks confused for about ten seconds and then she sneers. “Really, Lucas?”
“I’ve never been more fucking serious in my life.”
Sliding past me, she steps behind a few kids in line to ride the Ferris wheel. I stare at the back of her head, at the smooth, short black hair that was colored red only a couple weeks ago. I watch the way her shoulders tremble slightly beneath her thin gray t-shirt. The way she hugs herself tightly to hold herself together. Stuffing my hands into the pockets of my jeans, I join her.
She doesn’t meet my gaze when she says, “You’re the one who fucked things up.”
“Yeah,” I say, and a pang of fear punches me in the chest. “I did.”
“You’re the one who—.” She releases her grip on herself to drag her hands through her hair. “What exactly do you want from me?”
“For you to leave me alone. I’ve paid you—fuck me, I’ve paid you. It’s time we end this. If I want to be with someone else, I should be able to—”
Her lips part open, but she quickly replaces her surprise with a harsh look, making her look at least ten years older than she is. “Of course this is about the bitch I met at Cilla’s party.” Her voice deepens with anger when she references Sienna . . . and Cilla. “Cilla was looking like her usual drunk slut self. Makes me wonder about this new company you’re keeping.”
I didn’t keep Sienna. And that’s the problem. “It’s not about anyone. It’s about me refusing to give you shit anymore.”
Since there are people in front of us and behind, Sam isn’t stupid enough to announce my secrets to the world—not when she believes that as long as she has it, she has me. When she finally decides to answer me, she leans in close and the scent of alcohol and cigarette smoke fills my nose.
“If you want her that much, tell her the truth. Tell her what happened. I’m sure Sienna is just dying to know everything about Lucas-Fucking-Wolfe. I’m sure she’ll understand why you fucked up.”
“Not happening,” I say through clenched teeth.
“Scared you might lose control of her?”
And then something hits me. Like a fucking sack of bricks to the face. Sam wants me to lose control. Maybe even more than she wants my money. And now, somehow, she knows Sienna’s name. “Is that why you’re here? To see Sienna?”
Sam keeps her gray eyes straight ahead on the amusement park ride in front of us. Her lips barely move when she says, “Yes.”
Chapter Three
Lucas Wolfe
Fury races through every vein in my body as I stare down at Sam. A tiny smile tilts the corners of her lips up, but I don't know whether she's mocking me or about to burst in tears in hopes that I’ll pity her. With Sam, either is possible, and right now, either will just piss me off even more. "Why?" I demand. "Why the fuck would you want or need to go to her?"
It’s a dumb question, and I know she thinks so too because she blinks a few times. Visiting Sienna would give her more control. Give her something to use against me. It’s that simple.
Sam crosses her thin arms over her chest again and rocks back on her heels. She shakes her head in disbelief. "God, Lucas. Do you really think I'd--" she begins in a harsh whisper, but the kid behind us in line interrupts.