I gathered up the soaked bedding and tossed it on the floor. Then I grabbed a clean shirt and went into the bathroom to change. When I came out Sam was stuffing the bedding into the washing machine. He looked up apologetically, “I don’t know how to use this.”
I sighed and gave him a quick lesson, putting in the detergent and showing him how to use the settings. When the task was complete I went back to my room. Sam followed.
“What are you doing here?”
“You didn’t go to school. Your mom finally left and I wanted to make sure that you’re okay and see if you needed anything.”
“I’m fine. You can go.”
“You can’t be here all day alone, Heven.”
“This is about China.” I was sorely disappointed. Was I hoping he would say he missed me, that he wanted to see me?
“It’s about your safety.”
That didn’t make me feel any better. “I’m fine.”
“I’ll just stay and make sure.”
“You can’t stay.”
“Why?”
Because it hurts too much. Because I want to throw myself into your arms and never let go. Because I want to forgive you, but I can’t. “Just go.”
“I’ll be outside if you need me.” He walked to the door.
“Outside?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“I’ve been here all weekend.”
“What?”
“I told you I would protect you.”
He stayed outside all weekend to protect me? To watch over me?
He nodded, looking exhausted. When he was halfway down the stairs I went after him. I couldn’t let him go again; he made me feel better even though I didn’t want him to.
“Have you eaten?”
“I’ll get something later.”
“I’ll fix you a sandwich.”
He looked up, his eyes flashing gold.
My heart leapt.
He followed me into the kitchen, seeming tired and worried, which for the life of me I could not understand. After admitting to sitting outside the entire weekend to keep watch over me like a stalker, coming into my house without being invited, and scaring me almost to death…and only now that I was to make him a sandwich he was worried?
“Like any sandwich I made could be that bad…” I muttered, grabbing the bread.
“What?”
I jumped a mile high because I had no clue that he was inches behind me. “Geez, stop sneaking up on me!”
“Sorry.” He moved to the other side of the kitchen, giving me some space. This was a good thing, right?
I sighed and focused on the turkey sandwich I was slapping together. Extra mayo, extra turkey, cheese…I held up a tomato and he shook his head, making a face. I put the tomato down and topped the sandwich with another slice of white and carried it over to him. He reached for the sandwich, and his fingers brushed mine. I felt the jolt as if I were electrocuted. He froze and looked up at me. I ignored him and went back across the kitchen to grab a soda. When I turned back, half the sandwich was gone. I began making another; clearly, he was starved.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
He shrugged and shoved the rest into his mouth. Geez, did he even chew? After I handed him the second sandwich I turned to walk away, but he grabbed the hem of my T-shirt and pulled me back. “Hey.”
My stomach did that flippy thing, and I prayed that he couldn’t hear my heart accelerate. Who knew what a hellhound was capable of? “What are you?” I whispered.
His hand slid away from me. “I’m the same guy I’ve always been.”
“I never really knew you at all.” I had no idea that he was a hellhound and lived on his own with a bunch of other hellhounds who liked to kill.
“I only hid what I am, not who I am.” He sat the sandwich on the table like he’d lost his appetite.
“Isn’t that the same thing?”
Slowly he shook his head.
I wasn’t sure how to respond, so I busied myself by cleaning up. “You don’t need to stay.”
“I’ll go outside, but I am not leaving.” he said being stubborn.
“Fine! Do what you want anyway!” I said, exasperated. I wanted to run from the room, but he was near the door, so I settled for turning my back on him.
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he appeared behind me instantly, soundlessly, but I was. I felt his hands hover above my shoulders before they settled, warm and heavy. With gentle hands and strong arms he turned me around and cupped my face, forcing me to look into his hypnotic eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you. I would die to protect you from pain.”
My skin tingled under his touch, and it was his words, not his eyes, that hypnotized me. “Sam…”
His lips brushed over mine, and while I willed myself to push him away, I pulled him closer. I opened my mouth wider and his tongue slipped in, making me groan. There was a sharp thump and a gasp from the door of the kitchen. Before I could register anything, Sam flipped around, tucking me behind him. I stared at the tense, rippling muscles of his back.
“What is going on here?”
Oh, crap. It was my mother.
I tapped Sam on the shoulder and he turned, his eyes full of regret. “I wasn’t paying attention,” he whispered. “I didn’t hear drive up, I was so focused on you…” his eyes dropped back to my lips. I understood because everything else fell away when I was with him too.
I stepped around him to look at my mother. “Mom, this isn’t what it looks like.”
“You mean you didn’t pretend to be sick so you could skip school and…and…act like a harlot?”
A harlot? What the heck was that? Sam must have heard it before because he actually growled. Like that helped anything.
“Mom…”
“I do not want to hear it, young lady,” she said, bending to pick up her dropped keys and purse. “You and I are going to have a talk. And you,” she said pointing at Sam, her face flushing, “you are going to leave. You are not welcome here.”
“Mom!”
Sam turned to face me, his hazel eyes darkening. “I’ll see you later,” he whispered.
“Go!” Mom told him.
When he was gone, Mom stared at me, hard. “Are you proud of yourself?”
“He came by to see if I was okay, that’s all.”
“Are you even sick?”
“Yes.” At the moment I felt like hurling.
“I didn’t want to believe…” she murmured, sitting down at the kitchen table. I don’t even think she heard me.