FRESH FROM A shower where Sam had used his fingers to give me earth-shaking orgasm number two, I watched him, wrapped in only a towel, smoking on my balcony. He was so obviously freezing his ass off, but it was a glorious sight. I hated that he was a smoker—but, God, he looked sexy as he did it.
It was after three a.m. when my phone started ringing on my nightstand. It was Henry, and while it wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to drunk dial, it still worried me that he’d call so late.
I snatched it up immediately. “Hello?”
“Tell me he’s lying?”
“What?”
“Please God, Levee. Tell me he’s full of shit and you aren’t seriously trying to kill yourself.”
I froze. “What are you talking about? Who?”
“Whoever that guy is you’re sleeping with!” he yelled before getting himself back in check. “He told Devon you go up to that bridge every night to jump. Damn it, Levee, what the hell are you thinking?”
My heart began to race as the blood drained from my face. “It’s not. I mean… I’m… I don’t….” I stumbled over my words as my eyes lifted to Sam on the other side of the glass.
“Stewart is losing his fucking mind right now that Devon was just this guy’s first stop before heading to the press.”
Oh God.
“Just tell me this is some kind of rumor.”
As if he could sense my distress, Sam turned to face me. His golden eyes locked with mine, immediate concern painted his face.
“What?” he mouthed.
I couldn’t reply.
Not to Sam.
Not to Henry.
Not even to myself.
It wasn’t true.
It also wasn’t a lie.
“Oh God,” Henry gasped when my silence told him more than my words ever could.
Sam regarded me warily for several seconds before he dropped his cigarette and headed my way.
My world began to move in slow motion even as my mind frantically swirled.
He told Devon.
Betrayal chilled my veins, sending a shiver down my back.
“Levee?” Henry said, reminding me that I still had the phone to my ear.
“Yeah,” I whispered absently, my eyes glued to Sam as he slid the balcony door open. A gust of wind blew the curtains in the air as he entered.
“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in a half hour, okay? Stay put. We’ll figure this out.”
“I’m…really… I’m….umm….” My chin quivered as Sam stopped in front of me and tilted his head in a silent question. “I’m fine,” I finished. A tear escaped my eye as Sam physically flinched from the word, immediately folding me into his arms.
“What’s going on?” he questioned softly.
Why would he do this to me?
“I’ll be there in a half hour,” Henry repeated. “Devon’s on his way now. Hang tight.”
But I couldn’t do that at all. The man who had been the only thing grounding me for the last week had just sold me out. The terrifying free fall rushed up at me from the ground, all but swallowing me even as I stood wrapped in his safe arms.
He wouldn’t really tell anyone else… Would he?
If word got out that I was some sort of suicidal basket case, there was no way they’d let me help out at the hospitals anymore.
My pulse raced, and my hands got clammy.
I wouldn’t let him take that from me—from them.
My ears pounded, leaving me unable to make out the words Sam was repeating into my hair. I wasn’t sure if they were questions or soothing sentiments; it just broke my heart that he was uttering them.
He was the bandage—and, now, the wound.
Dropping my phone, I stepped out of his reach. After plucking his jeans off the floor, I threw them at him. “Get out.”
His head snapped back. “What?”
“Get the fuck out of my house.”
He put his hands on his hips, notably confused. “Excuse me?”
“Get out!” I screamed so loud that it echoed off the glass.