Breaking through, p.4
Breaking Through, page 4
“You’re attracted to him. I can see it in your face; you’re all puffy and pink.”
“Holy crap on a cracker.” Charlotte’s cheeks flamed further, and she tried to hide behind a napkin. Carmen continued in gregarious ignorance of her friend’s discomfort.
“Sam is good. Not to mention he’s been in lo—” Carmen clamped her teeth on her lip, grinding the sentence to a halt.
Charlotte jerked her head around. “Excuse me? He’s been what?”
Carmen grimaced and shook her head, her lips going white around the edges from the pressure she exerted in keeping them sealed.
“Carmen! What were you about to say?”
She clasped both of her hands across her mouth and stared at Charlotte, her eyes huge. Charlotte reached out and peeled Carmen’s hands away. As if her fingers were the only force holding back the words, Carmen said, “He’s been in love with you since you were teenagers.”
“What!” Charlotte yelled, oblivious to the startled looks from around her. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Carmen glanced around, possibly searching for a hole to crawl in and hide. “He’s been crushing hard... for like ever.” With sudden ferociousness, she brandished a finger at Charlotte. “Do not tell anyone that I told you! I’ll get in so much trouble.”
“Wait, how many people know?” Charlotte said, then tried to lower her voice. It was reaching unnecessary decibels. “How did you find out?”
“I noticed it the first time I saw you two together. Then last year, when we went camping, I may have overindulged and teased Sam about it... relentlessly until Sawyer made me go to bed. He said it has been a thing his family has known for years, but nobody talks about it, and I shouldn’t either, least of all to you.”
“You guys invited me on that trip, and I had to work.”
Carmen nodded. “When Sawyer told him you weren’t coming, Sam got all mopey. Like more than normal. He was quiet the entire weekend.”
“And he... he admitted it was true? When you harassed him?” Charlotte’s heart felt as if it was ready to climb out of her chest. It was a disturbing sensation, hanging on every one of Carmen’s words as if they were about to change her life.
“Eventually, I think he only copped up because I already knew and admitting it was the only way he could get me to shut the hell up.”
Charlotte frowned. “Why didn’t he ever say anything to me?”
“Again, Chuck, let me reiterate. Because he is Sam.”
“Still, it’s been such a long time.”
“He said when you guys were younger, he worried it would weird you out. Then stuff kept happening, and he knew how you felt about—” Carmen shrugged, her lily-white skin turning a dusty red that camouflaged her freckles. She didn’t need to say her husband’s name for Charlotte to understand all too well who she meant.
“Shit,” Charlotte muttered.
“He figured it was better if he forgot about it.” Carmen held both her palms up, nose wrinkling. “Only he never did. Not really.”
Charlotte blinked against the sudden burn of tears. In her mind, that night at the wedding had been fun and sexy, and it kindled a curiosity inside her. To know it meant so much more to Sam pained her. All this time, she’d been hurting him without knowing it.
“What do I do?” she whispered.
“Oh, honey.” Carmen reached over and scooped up her hand. “First, you need to decide how you feel about all this. Then you need to talk to Sam. But above all else, don’t start anything unless you are completely sure it’s what you want.”
“I hate that I hurt him and even didn’t know.” Charlotte’s voice broke. She picked at the lace flowers of the tablecloth and waited for her vision to clear. Carmen made a tutting sound and pulled her into a one-armed hug.
“Sam is a big boy; he is as accountable for his actions as you. Don’t worry about that. Decide what you need now before you do anything about Sam. I’m here to talk whenever you know that.”
Charlotte sniffed and forced a smile on her face. “Once you get back from sexing it up all over the Bahamas, that is?”
Carmen nodded, a grin inching across her face. “Yes, after that.”
Charlotte feigned a dark scowl. “You’ll probably get knocked up and forget all about the rest of us.”
Carmen reached out and patted her on the top of her head. “Probably.”
CHAPTER 6
“What are you three cackling about?” Sam set his lunch on the table and slid onto the bench seat, bumping his shoulder against Deena’s in greeting.
“Well, speak of the sweet-natured devil.” Deena grinned and turned to Sam. “The girls and I were just saying we think you should set up an online dating profile.”
Sam frowned. “Oh, God, like one of those instant judgments, let’s get laid deals?”
“Doesn’t have to be, though I’m sure you’d fare just fine on those as well.” She patted his cheek with a calloused hand, “But there are more wholesome ones out there.”
“Like what?” Sam frowned, “Christian Mingle? I literally just took the Lord’s name in vain.”
“You’re swinging from one end of the spectrum to the other here, Sammy. There are lots of different options.”
“Come on,” Tasha piped up from the other side of the table. “Give it a go. What are you going to lose?”
“My dignity,” Sam muttered. “Possibly my life. I’m an innocent, totally naïve; I could get cat-fished. I’m not entirely sure what that means, but I hear it’s bad.”
Tasha’s eyes threatened to roll to the back of her skull. “We want to see you happy. And since you steadfastly refuse to date any of us... Well”—she held her palms up, dimples popping in her round cheeks—“here we are.”
“You ladies have it all wrong. The only reason I refuse is I could never pick just one.”
“Who says you have to?” Deena nudged him in the ribs as laughter erupted around the table.
Red-faced, Sam waited until his coworkers quieted. “Seriously, I’m happy. I don’t know what makes you think otherwise.”
“A man your age shouldn’t be going from twelve-hour shifts, home to an empty apartment, back for another twelve, then back to an empty apartment... I’m sure you can see the pattern here, and let me tell you, it isn’t healthy.”
Sam scowled. “My life is fulfilling.”
Deena’s lips pursed, and she cocked her head at him. “Fulfilling, hey? What do you do for fun, Sam?”
Sam blinked at her. “What is this fun you speak of?” The sarcasm earned him a punch in the arm. “Lots of stuff!” He waved a hand in the air. “I walk dogs for the SPCA.”
“And before bed every night, he polishes his halo,” Tasha mumbled.
“How about sex? Hmm? Are you fulfilled in that department too?”
Sam closed his eyes against the urge to bury his face in his hands. The last thing they needed was more fodder to use against him. “You guys don’t know everything about me.” The argument sounded feeble even to his ears. “This is our workplace. I leave my personal life at home.”
The three women raised their brows in synchronized doubt. Sam threw his hands toward the ceiling. “Fine. Sign me up.” With a long-suffering sigh, he propped his chin in his hands. “At least find a decent site that doesn’t cause all my morals to go up in smoke.”
As one, the three women dove for their phones. Sara was the fastest draw. “Plenty of Fish? I hear good things about that one,” she said. The other two women nodded in agreement, shifting in their seats so they could get a view of the minuscule screen.
“What’s your full name?” Sara asked, her fingers flying.
“Why do they need that?”
Triple glares swiveled his way.
Sam held his hands up in surrender. “Samuel Sterling Stevenson.”
“Of course, it is,” Tasha muttered.
“Age? Thirty-four?”
Sam nodded.
“Height?”
“Six foot, four inches.”
Sara typed, then paused. She glanced at the other women.
“What?” Sam growled, suspicion prickling at him.
“Are you interested in meeting women... or men?”
It took Sam a second or two to comprehend the question. “Are you asking if I’m gay?”
“Umm...Yes. Yes, I am.”
“Well, well, well.” Sam smirked. Crossing his arms, he leaned back in his chair. “Thought you guys knew everything about me?”
“Eight years, and it has only now occurred to me I’ve never actually heard you talk about a woman.”
“Have you heard me talk about a man?” Sam laughed.
“Well, you mention your friend, Chuck, from high school once in a while.”
Sam jerked upright in his chair. “Chuck is a girl! A woman. Her name is Charlotte. It’s a joke.”
Deena snorted. “I’m sure she thinks it’s hilarious.”
“People, people,” Sara interjected. “We’re burning through break time here. Am I checking female or male?”
“Female, if you please,” Sam said.
They had nearly finished the profile when a thought occurred to Sam, “Wait, do you think that is why my mom pulled me aside last year and told me she’d love me no matter what?”
The others erupted into laughter. “Oh, Sammy boy.” Deena put an arm around his shoulder, squeezing him in a sideways hug. “I think so. That’s lovely. I wish my mother had been that supportive of me when I came out. What did you say?”
Sam shoved down the pang of sadness at her words and shrugged. “I said, thanks, I love you too. I couldn’t figure out why she was acting so weird. She said the only thing that mattered to her and my dad was that I found happiness.”
Tasha shook her head, still shaking with barely restrained laughter. “Oh, you sweet, simple boy.”
“My brother had just gotten engaged; I thought she was feeling sentimental.” Sam snorted, then started to laugh as well, caught up in their amusement. Maybe they were right, and he was genuinely clueless.
“I don’t understand how no one, man or woman—”
“Woman,” Sam choked out, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.
“—hasn’t snatched you up yet.”
Sam quieted and smiled at his friend. He couldn’t help being touched by Tasha’s seemingly genuine perplexity. “Despite your stubborn and, might I say, enduring affection for me, ladies, no lineups of any gender are waiting to knock down my door in their haste to date me.”
“I think the problem lies in how you perceive the actions of the people you meet.” Sara waved an encompassing arm at the busy cafeteria. “I could name at least three people in this room alone who’ve had or have the hots for you.”
“Nonsense.”
Sara held up a finger and began ticking off names. “Mary in X-ray, the PT... what’s her name?”
“Trixie,” Tasha supplied, her blue gaze travelling around the room.
“Oh, yeah.” Sara grinned. “And Graydon, you worked nights with him a few times. He always asks about you.”
“Sexy name. Still not interested in men.”
“Oh!” Sara brandished her pointer finger at his face. “Dr. Burke.”
“Who?” Sam asked, blinking at her in surprise.
“The new doctor. Jane Burke.”
“Yes?”
Sara froze, her eyes meeting Sam’s and going wide. The four of them slowly turned around in their chairs.
“Hello, Dr. Burke.” Tasha flashed her dimples, less pronounced now that her face resembled a tomato.
Dr. Burke tipped her head, a slight frown creasing the smooth skin between her fair brows. Blood crept up Sam’s neck and flooded his face. He’d been giving Sara a hard time and knew who Dr. Burke was. Every red-blooded male in the hospital knew who Dr. Jane Burke was.
Tall and athletic, with brown eyes so sharp they seemed to see right into the root of a person when she spoke to them, she made Sam nervous. Uneasy in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.
“I couldn’t help but overhear my name just now.” She watched Sam as she spoke, one corner of her generous mouth curving the barest hint upward. Sam swallowed.
“Sara was telling Sam here he should ask you out for coffee.” The point of Deena’s elbow found Sam’s ribs, and he flinched.
“Well, I don’t drink coffee,” Dr. Burke said, her gaze never leaving Sam’s. Heat suffused his face, and he wondered if growing a beard would help hide the fact he was prone to blushing. Realizing they expected him to respond, Sam opened his mouth, but Dr. Burke interrupted him, a smile spreading across her lips. “I would, however, love to have dinner with you.”
Ignoring the other women, Sam pulled himself together and stood. “I’m sorry. They took me a bit by surprise.” He smiled, moving so he was standing in front of the doctor and blocking his coworkers’ view from the table. “Dinner sounds great. I’m off Saturday?”
“I can make Saturday work.”
“All right, well... great. That’s great.”
“I’ll see you then.”
She gave him another smile before turning, her head dipping back to the paperwork in her hand. Behind Sam, someone hissed, “Number!”
“Oh! Dr. Burke?”
She turned, chin tipped in question.
“Can I... I mean, I should grab your number, I guess?”
“Yes, you should.” She unclipped the pen from her lanyard. “May I?”
Sam patted his scrub pocket, wincing. He had no paper, and his phone was sitting on the shelf in his locker. “Um.”
Eyes twinkling, Dr. Burke took his hand in hers and flipped it over. The ball of the pen tickled the skin on the inside of his wrist as she scribbled the number.
“I think,” she said, keeping hold of his hand a moment, “given the circumstances, outside of work, you could call me Jane.” She squeezed his hand before releasing it. “Don’t forget to write that down before you get back to work.” Then she walked away, her long blonde braid dancing against the small of her back.
“Her posture is perfect,” Tasha said in a reverent tone as the doctor left the room.
“Yeah, so is her posterior,” Deena mumbled.
Shaking his head, Sam left the cafeteria without a backward glance.
***
“Welcome home,” Sam said after his brother released him from an unnecessarily long hug. Sawyer looked infuriatingly well. His skin was tanned dark gold, and the long strands of his blond hair had gone white under the tropical sun. Sam hated him, just a tiny bit. “You look... all right. The honeymoon was good?”
Sawyer flashed him a lecherous grin and jerked his head toward the bar. “Let’s grab a beer, and then I’ll tell you all about it.”
“I’d rather you didn’t,” Sam muttered, following Sawyer. His bulk quickly parted the crowd that milled around the bartender. The bar had been Sawyer’s idea. Sam invited his brother over for a beer at his apartment, but Sawyer had insisted they go out. It was Friday, and Sam had a rare Saturday off. The last thing he wanted, though, was to be hungover for his date with Jane.
“Okay, fine, only some details.” Sawyer ordered for them, and Sam, without waiting for Sawyer, turned, and headed for a table in the far corner. Sawyer may have successfully gotten the introvert out of his cave, but Sam sure as shit would not sit right in the middle of all the bar’s chaos.
They finished a round, chatting about the trip and the sights Sawyer and Carmen had seen. Sam talked little, but he was okay with listening to his brother tell his stories. Sawyer was so much like their mother, animated, gregarious, always ready to enthral listeners with a tale either true or made up if there was nothing to tell. He laughed more than he was used to. His cheeks actually hurt with it.
While he listened to Sawyer, Sam peeled the label off his beer bottle and created a tiny, neat pile on the table. He barely noticed he was doing it until Sawyer stopped talking and pointed at the debris. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“Uh.” Sam looked at his bottle, then across at his brother. “I don’t know. I have restless hands?”
Sawyer’s brows rose, and his gaze flicked to Sam’s face. “You know what they say about people who peel labels and shit like that, don’t you?”
“No...but I have a strong feeling you are about to tell me.”
Sawyer sat back and crossed his arms over his chest. “Apparently, it means you’re sexually frustrated,” he said smugly.
Sam snorted and lifted the bottle to his mouth, drinking deeply before setting it back on the table. A little harder than was strictly necessary. “Of course, I’m sexually frustrated! I’m a socially awkward introvert who works eighty hours a week.”
Sawyer rolled his eyes. “Get over yourself and go get laid.”
Sam swallowed a rush of anger. Leaning his forearms on the table, he glared at his brother. “You know it isn’t that easy for me.”
“Why not!” Sawyer flung his hands up, then leaned forward, mimicking Sam’s posture. “Surely you can figure out how to get a date.”
Sam sighed. “Actually, for your information, I already have one. Tomorrow.”
Sawyer slammed a palm down on the table. “Well, then what are you bellyaching about?”
“You realize, don’t you?” Sam said, swinging a finger back and forth between them. “That you and I are as different as they come. I fell into this date by accident, and I’m nervous, all right? Casually dating beautiful women? This is your type of thing, not mine.”
For a second, Sam thought he had stepped over a line. Sawyer’s face darkened. He studied Sam for a long moment, then took a pull of his beer, setting it down slowly on the table before he said, “So, what’s your thing then? Pining away for our childhood friend you’re too chicken shit to talk to until you die?” He leaned forward, putting his finger so close to Sam’s face, he was tempted to grab it and bend it back like they’d done as kids.
“Stop being so intense,” Sawyer said. “Get out of your head. It’s one date. Get laid for fuck’s sake before your head... or your balls explode.” With a look of pure exasperation aimed at Sam, he stood up from the table. “I’m going to grab us more beer.”
