“He gets home, I’m gonna kick his ass,” he bit off and I shook my head again.
“Don’t. Please. He thinks the world of you and he needs good people around him. You get in the middle of this, Sam won’t like it. You’re good people, Skip, and he needs you. Just let him be.”
Skip visibly clenched his teeth.
A horn honked in the distance.
The car was here.
Shit.
It was time to go.
“I have to go,” I told him quietly.
He scowled at me.
Then he muttered, “I’ll get your bags.”
I swallowed. Skip got my bags, I rushed through the house making sure the backdoor was locked, all the windows secure then I rushed back, grabbed my purse, the keys, the padded envelope I prepared and the remote on the bar. I snatched up Memphis’s crate, went to the security panel, punched in the code and hurried out, locking up behind me.
Skip and the driver were loading my luggage in the trunk when I arrived. I greeted the driver and loaded Memphis in the backseat.
Then I turned to Skip.
“Maybe one day I’ll come back and have another sandwich,” I said on a small smile knowing this was never, ever going to happen.
Kingston, North Carolina was a memory for me.
No, it was a dream, better than a memory but still, just as unattainable.
“Maybe, after I kick his ass, you will,” Skip returned.
“Skip –” I started.
“You do what you gotta do, girl, and I’ll do what I gotta do. Life’s too short to live with demons and life’s too short to miss one second bein’ with the ones you love. You gotta go, I see that. I gotta kick that boy’s ass when he comes home, I hope you can see that.”
This was Skip, I didn’t know him very well but I knew him enough to see that.
I nodded.
Sam wouldn’t like that but whatever. I’d never know. Sam said if it was all or nothing and it was my decision, he meant it.
I leaned in and kissed Skip’s cheek.
Skip surprised me again by folding his arms around me and giving me a tight hug.
I hugged him back.
“See you at the Shack,” he muttered gruffly in my ear.
I hiccoughed to swallow a sob.
Then, not looking back, I got in the car and gave the driver instructions. He did as he was told, waiting for Skip’s pickup to clear the drive, he followed and stopped.
I hit the remote.
The gate closed.
I put the remote and keys in the padded envelope, sealed it, got out and ran to the postbox mounted at the side of the gate. I shoved it through. Then I got back in the car.
I really didn’t want to, I really didn’t, I needed all my energy but as the driver drove away, I managed not to look back.
But I didn’t manage not to cry.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Tough
Three weeks and one day later…
I walked on the wet, uneven sidewalks. They were wet but it wasn’t raining.
For once.
I had not noticed London was foggy but it sure was wet.
As I rushed along the sidewalks, I couldn’t shake the feeling I was being watched. It was freaky weird and totally stupid. No one was watching me. But as I went, twice, I turned my head to scan my surroundings.
There were a sea of faces but no one was looking at me.
I rushed because I was late and I rushed because I didn’t want to get caught in rain. I had an umbrella but I’d moved out of the residential area of Kensington where Celeste and Thomas lived and into the area of Kensington where the sidewalks were rife with people. It was already a struggle negotiating the populated streets, it was a pain in the ass to do it with your umbrella bumping against and catching on everyone else’s.
Trust me, I knew this and I’d only been there a week but I still had plenty of experience.
I left Memphis behind with Mom and Dad and took off. This was, I knew, because there was a possibility Sam was back in North Carolina and I didn’t want him to come after me. I also didn’t want to be in Indiana thinking he’d come after me when he wouldn’t. He had called in the time I’d been away; he’d done it three times. All three times, I’d let it go to voicemail then deleted his messages without even listening to them, knowing it would undo me (more) if I heard his voice especially his voice coming at me not knowing we were over. I figured, with Sam, it would be the latter and he wouldn’t come after me. He might not like it and I knew he cared about me enough really not to like it but he’d accept my decision.
That hurt. It shouldn’t but it did.
Then again, everything about losing Sam hurt.
Since Sam left me, I struggled with my decision. I wondered if I didn’t give it enough time, enough effort, enough patience, my mind consumed with what I might have tried, what I could have done to break through.