All-American Girl (24 page)

Samantha stood—shell-shocked—on the street corner. Lance’s arms came around her and held her. She hadn’t realized she’d been crying until Lance rubbed his hands across her cheeks.

“Sam,” he said softly, “are you all right?”

She sucked down the sobs. “Yes…no…I don’t know.”

“Let’s get to the diner and we can talk. I hate seeing you like this.”

She twisted out of his arms. The memories of what Ryan did and how much he hurt her were all right there. Samantha couldn’t—
wouldn’t
—risk herself or her heart for any man. She would die the next time it was broken by someone she loved. The risk was too great, especially now that she had Ava to consider. Her house of cards, of comfort, would forever remain scattered at her feet.

“No,” she replied. “I’m sorry, but I need to be alone.”

“Sam—”

“I have to go over this paperwork. I need to work this out so I can have Ava.”

He tried to stroke her cheek but she stepped away from him, hardening her shattered heart.

“Can I help you?” he asked.

“No, I don’t need anyone’s help. I can do this alone.” Without another word, she turned and walked away.

Samantha had rearranged the cups in the china cabinet four times. She couldn’t get them right. The construction mess in the kitchen and bathroom was another problem. She’d cleaned, tidied, and scrubbed every surface she could think of.

It didn’t help settle her nerves or wash away her hatred for Ryan. She’d already made her decision after talking to her attorney. She’d give up her home in Aspen, the loft apartment in New York, and several thousand dollars a month in order to have primary custody of Ava. It would take every dime she had. But if all it took was giving Ryan a few worthless pieces of property and money, she would do it.

He’d kept Ava away for almost a year. He’d known that would make it easier to get things from Samantha. It was his ace in the hole, the one that put the final weight on her house of cards. He’d done it for his new bimbo. What a waste.

If Ryan wasn’t such a heartless idiot, Samantha would tell him what he was missing for practically throwing his one and only daughter into Samantha’s arms. Ava’s laughter. Her smiles. Her inquisitive nature and curiosity. But Ryan was stupid. He would never see those things. He only saw a burden, one that Samantha would happily take from him.

She stomped to the phone, yanked up the receiver, and called the number Ryan gave her.

“Hello?” Ryan asked.

“It’s Samantha.”

A short silence was followed by Ryan clearing his throat. “Have you made a decision?”

“Yes.”

“Well, let’s have it.”

“The answer is yes, Ryan. You can have everything you asked for and in return, I get Ava.”

“Splendid. Ava will be thrilled.”

Those words shot ice through her. “Don’t make it sound like you did this for Ava,” she snapped. “You did this for yourself. You’ve done no more than manipulate Ava and me. Hell isn’t suited for people like you. I hope you’re satisfied.”

“I am.”

“Bastard.” More harsh words slipped out before she could stop them.

Another silence followed her tirade. She wished he’d been close enough to slap, not that it would have done any good.

“Well, Samantha, it looks like someone still has some growing up to do. Maybe you’re not the best mother for Ava after all.”

Reality slammed into her like two tons of bricks. “Ryan—”

“Lucky for you Ava is so fond of you. And I know how much you love her.” Tears scrambled to the surface in Samantha’s eyes. “I only wished you’d cared about me as much as you cared about her. Then maybe we would’ve been okay.”

The tears evaporated, dried up by fury. “What?” she demanded. “I loved you, Ryan, more than you could possibly imagine. It was you—
you
who let what we had slip away. You choose to sleep with a tramp. No, make it plural—
tramps.
You chose to use me. You chose to not love me. It was you.”

As she continued to rant, memories—every single hurtful memory with Ryan—rose to the surface and crashed through her, stirring up more anger.

“Believe what you want,” Ryan replied solemnly.

“Fine, I’ll pick Ava up first thing in the morning.”

“Don’t forget to bring the signed documents.”

“I won’t,” she ground out, then slammed down the phone and paced around the living room.

Men.
Worthless pieces of trash. They put on a good show, that was for sure. Ryan had. Husband Number One had, too. And Samantha had never seen the truth until it was too late.

She froze. She’d never seen the real Lance, had she? Oh, she’d seen many sides of him. Angry, frustrated, funny, gorgeous. She’d marveled in the way he interacted with Jax and Candice. And Samantha had been amazed at how well he handled her. She knew she was hard to get along with, but Lance never gave up. He’d pushed her until she came to terms with who she was and what she wanted. He’d shown her how to love, wholly and irrevocably. Just that night she’d been planning to let him know.

But as she sucked in a breath, she decided she couldn’t now. She wouldn’t take that risk for the third time in her life.

She was done with men, done with Vermont. She would pack her bags, pick up Ava, say goodbye to Gram, and hide herself away in the place she called home: New York.

She walked up the stairs toward her room with a heavy heart. Loving wasn’t her destiny. Leaving was.

Lance made his way to the kitchen and wrenched open the refrigerator door. He pulled out a cold Coke and snapped it open. With one long drink it was gone. He tossed the empty can into the recycle bin and plopped down at the table, exhausted in mind, body, and heart.

He wanted to call Samantha to make sure she was okay, to tug her close and kiss all her worries away. Watching Jax at the park without Samantha made him realize how perfectly they all fit together. He and Jax both missed Samantha when she was gone and he now knew he wanted them all to be together, forever.

By acknowledging that, he was overcoming one of his greatest fears: commitment. He’d wanted commitment before, with Jax’s mom. He’d thought he was in love, but he’d been wrong. After she ground his heart into the pavement when Jax was born—well, before Jax was born—he never thought he would trust another woman. But he’d always loved Samantha; he’d just never admitted it to himself, or to her. That was his first mistake.

Samantha still had hills to climb, battles to face, but he wanted to help and be a part of her life. And make it
their
life. He couldn’t do it without her cooperation or her love, and that was his biggest fear. He didn’t know if she could love, especially after the agonized look on her face after she dealt with her ex-husband. It was pure agony.

He wrenched his phone from his pocket and dialed her number. It rang but no one answered. He clamped it shut, rubbing his face. He thought about trying again, and then thought better of it. If she didn’t want to be bothered, she wouldn’t be bothered. Period. His lips quirked. That was his Sam.

Tomorrow. First thing in the morning he would go to her and tell her how he felt, make her see what he saw in her. He hoped and prayed she saw him the same way.

“I don’t know why they call it heartbreak.
It feels like every other part of my body is broken, too.”
~Missy Altijd

S
AMANTHA
H
ADN’T
S
LEPT
W
ELL
after making her choice, but she wasn’t going to change her mind. From today on, it would be just her and Ava.

She pushed wild hairs out of her face as she stuffed the last of her belongings into her bag. On her bed sat the picture of her, Lance, Cole, and Candice that she’d taken out of the top dresser drawer the day she arrived. She thought about tucking it away in her bag to remember the good times and the bad, then decided against it. No reason to remember something she couldn’t have, like a future in the place she used to call home or a life with the people she’d loved the most. She would have to make it a distant memory if she planned to make it through the day. The week. The month.

The picture stayed behind as she hauled the luggage down the steps. Her eyes made one last sweep across the living room, up the stairs, and into the kitchen. The carefree memories she’d shared with Gram and even with Lance slipped into her mind. She fought back tears. Now was not the time to be soft. What she was about to do would take all of her strength.

She turned and opened the door.

“Crap, my laptop,” she mumbled. How could she forget it? That was easy to answer. In the last twenty-four hours, her book had been the last thing on her mind. She only had a few days to finish it; that was a mountain with an unreachable peak.

She bounded up the stairs, fetched her laptop bag from the bedside table, and jogged back to the landing. She scooted to an abrupt stop as Lance’s large frame loomed in the doorway. He stared intently at her packed bags.

Her stomach twisted like it was in a taffy machine. He cocked his head, met her eyes, and the knotting intensified. He looked broken, and she hadn’t yet said a word.

She didn’t know if she could do this. Protecting herself meant hurting everyone around her, but she was protecting them as well. Lance wouldn’t see it that way, but she didn’t have the strength to fight. Samantha straightened her shoulders and walked down the steps toward him. He kept his eyes locked on hers.

She reached the bottom stair and couldn’t take the last step. Lance waved a hand over the luggage piled up by the door.

“Going somewhere?”

She sniffed. She would not cry. “Yes, I’m going to pick up Ava and then we’re heading back to New York.”

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it.

“Were you going to say goodbye?” His eyes flashed a hint of ire.

“Of course. I wasn’t going to leave without an explanation.”

“Not like last time then?”

She narrowed her eyes and gripped the laptop bag tighter. “This isn’t like last time.”

“It’s not? Hmm.” He scratched his morning-shadowed chin. He look liked he hadn’t slept well, either. A hint of regret pinged around in her heart and she steeled herself against it. “Then what you are running from this time?”

“I’m not running.” She shuffled her feet and took the last step. The front door was open, and Lance was blocking it. “I’ve had to make some difficult decisions, that’s all.”

He inched toward her. “Difficult for whom?”

“Me.”

“Are you certain?”

No, she wasn’t. The decision wasn’t difficult for just her. It affected a whole slew of people.

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is I am taking Ava back to New York. Today.”

“What about me? What about us?”

The level tone of his voice and his stunning calmness was difficult for Samantha to interpret. Was he upset? Or just shocked? She didn’t know, but his demeanor was going to make what she needed to say next easier.

“I gave you a chance. That’s all I promised you. I’m sorry, but our time is up. It was fun, but now I have to leave. You knew from the get-go I couldn’t stay here forever. It was only a matter of time before I left.”

“Fun?” His voice lowered an octave. “Is that all we had, Sam? Just
fun?”

“Well…I—”

He shuffled to her, taking hold of her arms. “No. The answer is no and you know that. What are you hiding? Why are you running?” He shook her gently. “Tell me.”

She twisted free of his grasp, her temper untangling. “It’s none of your business. Don’t make this harder than it already is. I’ve made my choice and I need to go.”

“This is hard for you? Well, you could’ve fooled me because you don’t look very upset about it. If you think I’m going to let you leave without an explanation, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“Please, Lance, don’t—”

“Don’t what?” He grabbed her again, pulling her into him.

His scent was everywhere, and she fought to keep her cool and not go back on what she had decided.

“Don’t come here and ask you to stay? Because that’s what I want to do. I want you here, with me and Jax. Ava, too. I’d beg you if I thought it would make a difference.”

Dark eyes bored into hers. She suppressed a sudden chill.

“But it won’t,” he continued. “I’ve tried to help you. I want you to talk to me, tell me what I can do. But you don’t. I don’t know why. I wish I could see inside your mind for two seconds to get all the information you’re hiding from me. Then maybe I could make you see how much you mean to us. To me.”

Her temper mixed with her sorrow. She broke free from his grasp. “Don’t, Lance.” She stepped to the side, lifted one of her bags from the floor, and headed for the door. “You don’t know what it’s like. I won’t go through it again.”

He caught her arm and spun her around before she stepped over the threshold. “Then tell me, damn it! I deserve to know.”

She dropped her bags and shoved him away.
Be hard. Steel yourself.
If she talked about it—got angry about it, leaving would be easier.

“Fine,” she spat out. “I will not pour my heart and soul into a life—a relationship—that will turn upside down on me. I will not risk anything for a man who will turn around and break me down the line. I’ve been there, twice—and I won’t do it again. For once in my life, I’m watching out for me!” She stabbed a finger in her chest. “I will not change for anyone now. I want to just be me. I want people to give things up for me like I’ve given up for them for years and years. I’m tired of being used. For once—just once—I want someone to show me I’m different, that I’m special, that I’m worth a sacrifice.”

“You are different,” he replied. “You’re more special than—”

“You don’t know what it’s like to be used, taken advantage of in the most devastating ways, then tossed aside like you didn’t even matter. It’s a feeling I plan on avoiding in the future because this time around would be worse than the last. Because this time I—” She almost spilled out her most intimate secret, but snapped her mouth shut.
This time I love him more than anyone before him.

When she dared a glance in his direction, his face was red, his eyes wide, mouth in a grim line.

“You don’t know anything,” he shot back. “I’ve been there, right where you are. I know exactly what it feels like.” He raked his fingers through his hair and blew out a ragged breath. “Here’s a bit of truth for you: Jax’s mom used me. We were together, talking about marriage and children. We’d been together for two years. I thought she loved me but when she found out she was pregnant, she changed. I was over the moon about it. A son,
my
son. It was my chance to be the father I never had. When she told me she was going to have an abortion, I lost it. She’d decided she didn’t want to be mother. She was too busy partying with her friends and didn’t want to let go of that life.”

He took a small step in Samantha’s direction. “She saw how it affected me, how angry I was, so she made me a bargain. Give her money, I get the child, and she gets to leave and live her life as she planned.” His eyes locked with hers. “I was better off than most, with my construction company taking off. I agreed. I wanted the baby; I wanted to be a father. She took every dime I had.”

“Everything?”

“Everything. I had a child and no means to care for him. I should’ve manned up and been proud of the fact I had a son. Instead, I started to drink.” He winced at the memory and shook his head. “I wanted it all to go away—the pain, the suffering from what she did. I was angry at the world for putting me in that position.” His tone softened, as did his expression. “That’s where your grandmother came in. She took Jax and me in. Taught us about love and family. Got me to stop drinking, made me focus on my construction company. Gave me a loan.

“I found out that life is better without the bottle—something I’d always known. Loving and caring for a child is the most important thing. Without your grandmother, I wouldn’t be the man I am today. I owe her everything.”

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“Don’t be sorry. I told you that so you could see everyone has problems. Life isn’t all roses and peaches. It’s hard, and it’s our job to overcome it. I know the pain you’re feeling. I’ve been there. Don’t let it tear us apart, Sam.”

“It’s not that easy for me.”

“Hell, it wasn’t that easy for me, either, but I did it. You can, too.”

She reached for the bag on the floor. His hand stopped her. “Don’t,” he said. “Don’t leave me, Samantha.”

She froze. Her determination wavered for the slightest second. “I’m sorry, Lance. I’ve already made my choice. Nothing will make me change it.”

“I love you.”

“What?”

He took her hand and brushed his lips over her knuckles. She willed the tears not to fall. She had to be strong or she wouldn’t make it.

“Samantha, I want you here, with me. I love you.”

She shook her head to clear it. The agony of her decision ripped through her, made her entire body feel heavy, made her mind not register those words. “You don’t,” she whispered. “You can’t. I have to go.”

His grip on her hand tightened when she tried to move away. “When is the last time you told someone you loved them?”

She kept her focus on the hardwood, forcing the unshed tears from her eyes with a swipe of her hand. His finger caught her chin and lifted her head to face him.

“When?” he demanded when she didn’t answer.

Her lips were sealed shut. Answering that question wouldn’t make a difference.

He grunted and dropped his hand. Surprisingly, he took a step back. “I get it,” he said coolly. “The old Sam has returned. Unfeeling, careless. I’ll answer for you, then. I’m guessing it’s been a while. I’ll bet you haven’t even said those words to your grandmother since you’ve been back in town. I thought you could love. I was wrong. Now it makes sense. I’m sorry.”

He bent and picked up both her bags. Without saying another word, he walked to her car and put them in her trunk. She followed silently behind him and slid into the driver’s seat. He poked his head in through the open window but she kept her face forward and didn’t look at him.

“Do you know why you can’t finish your story, Sam?”

She hid the shock from her expression and said nothing.

“Because it’s about you. You haven’t learned to love—to give what you need, to let others give to you—and therefore can’t put it into the book. The book is you.
She
is you.”

He sighed and rose, rapped twice on the hood, walking away and out of her life.

With shaking hands, she managed to put the car in gear and drive several blocks in the opposite direction of Lance’s truck before she pulled over, collapsing over the steering wheel and letting the tears fall. Lance loved her, and she wasn’t strong enough to do anything about it. She couldn’t bear the weight of being loved by someone who could break her heart, and had torn out Lance’s—along with her own—to save herself pain. How ironic.

Samantha calmed herself down before making it to Gram’s recovery center. She checked the rearview mirror and wiped the tears from her eyes.

Slipping into Gram’s room, she stopped inside the door. Her brother, Cole, was sitting at Gram’s side. The two of them were chatting and laughing. Samantha’s brows drew together in confusion as she stepped farther into the room. The squeak of her shoes on the floor had Gram and Cole looking in her direction.

“Hey,” Samantha said. “I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

Gram waved a hand. “You’re not interrupting, dear. Come. Sit.”

Samantha looked at Cole, whose bright, clear, green eyes were focused on her. He looked clean, shaven, and…shockingly sober.

“What brings you by so early?” Gram asked. “My therapy session isn’t until this afternoon.”

Samantha shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had the urge to rise and fold the blanket on the edge of the bed but stopped herself.

“I stopped by to tell you I was going back to New York. Some things have come up—with my ex-husband—and I need to work them out.”

Gram studied her. “Why are you lying to me, dear?”

“What?” Samantha choked. “I’m not lying.”

Gram smiled effortlessly. “You’re not telling the truth either.”

Samantha hung her head. “It’s complicated.”

“Lance?”

“Yes, to name one complication.”