Can't Let Go (22 page)

“No problem,” I say, shaking my head to rid it of Chrissy.

“Tell me, how cute is my granddaughter?” Mrs. Hamilton joins shortly after, smiling widely.

“She’s pretty darn adorable,” I respond before she wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing me into a hug.

“Thank you, Dex,” she says, and I roll her suitcase over and shove it in the back alongside her husband’s.

“You’re welcome.” I reach in and move the bag with the blanket to make room for Sam’s. A light scent of Chrissy’s fruity smelling shampoo floats out and hits me square in the nostrils, flickering our almost kiss to the forefront of everything else. She and I with our backs against the window of the truck, her legs pressed against mine, and her hot breath tickling my neck.

“Dex!” Sam screams and jumps into my unexpected arms. I’m able to catch her at the last minute, and she crushes me with a tight hug.

“Hey, Sam,” I say, and when I place her feet back on the ground, Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton are smiling our way as though they enjoy seeing us together.

With her arms still around me, she moves her lips to my ear. “God I’m so wet, I want you now,” she whispers, and I hate to admit it, but I have to shift slightly due to the excitement she evokes with her words. Guilt rises in me.

I don’t respond, and she pushes back, her hands on my upper arms. Silently studying me for a few seconds and then she steps back and turns around. “Let’s go, I want to see my niece,” she hollers behind her, making her parents laugh.

The ride to the hospital is mostly Sam talking to Jessa on the phone and relaying all the information to their parents. Not sure why they have a need to do this now when we’re only forty-five minutes from Western. Sam doesn’t touch me or say much. It could be because her parents don’t know much about our relationship, or lack of one I should say. She takes it upon herself to change the radio station, though. From my usual rock to her current hit preference, which irritates me, but I chalk it up to Chrissy invading my brain.

We arrive at the hospital, and her parents eagerly walk in front of us as Sam eyes me a few times and then faces straight ahead. She bites the inside of her cheek in the elevator and stares up straight ahead, obviously something occupies her thoughts. When the sliding doors ding open, Jessa’s family rushes out, and I keep my distance a few feet back. Their excitement is apparent as her mom grips onto Jessa’s dad’s arm and Sam’s feet speed faster the closer we get.

Jessa’s laughter can be heard from down the hall, and her parents recognize it immediately, laughing to themselves at the sound of their daughter. We enter the room, which his already becoming filled with flowers and well wishes from friends and family. Jessa lies on the bed with her short dark hair pulled away in a clip, and Grant sits on the recliner, staring down at his daughter as she grips his pointer finger. Sadie is on the edge of the bed, until she spots Jessa’s family.

“Oh my god! Sorry, Grant, but give me her.” Sam rushes over and plops down right next to Grant, admiring her niece.

“Hi, Sam,” Jessa teases, and Sam playfully tosses her hand in her direction.

“My baby,” Mrs. Hamilton gushes over Jessa. Her hand smoothes over her daughter’s hair and kisses her on the cheek.

“Hi, Mom,” Jessa greets her, and Mr. Hamilton grips his daughter’s hand.

“You okay? Everything went well?” Her dad asks, and Jessa smiles, nodding.

“I’m great. She’s great,” she looks over at Grant and they share a smile, “we’re great,” she finishes, and the cheerful atmosphere is enough to make me puke.

I love Jessa and Grant, but I just want to go home. My phone is practically burning a hole into my pocket on whether to check up on Chrissy. I don’t even know if she had to go to work today or not. Regret that I should have taken the time to check in on her before leaving hasn’t left the whole morning.

While the Hamilton’s get introduced to their granddaughter and fight over who holds her first, I peruse the flower arrangements lining the windowsill. My head jolts back when I get a glimpse of the card on a very elaborate pink and white bouquet. It’s not the message, but the signature that grips my heart with a damn torque wrench;
Love, Ryland and Chrissy
. What the fuck is that? She’s worked there, what, two days and suddenly there’s a Ryland and Chrissy?

Completely flabbergasted, I leave the room to grab a hold of myself and somehow calm. Ryland and Chrissy repeats over and over in my head. My mind instantly shifts into overdrive thinking of other things with their names combined. Mr. and Mrs. Ryland Davis, Mrs. Chrissy Davis. My fist swings back and hits the hospital wall before I push off to get some air.

I’m in the waiting room, pacing back and forth along the length of the window that overlooks nothing but woods. What have I been doing with Chrissy? What does she want? Fuck, what do I want? Mid crazy thought, a peppy Sam bounces into the room and stops when she sees me. “There you are,” she says, and I stop pacing and stare at her. She really is beautiful with her dark long hair. Always perfectly curled with every stitch of make-up you can find at those department stores. Jewelry that matches her expensive outfits. I’m not even sure I’ve seen her wear the same pair of shoes twice.

“Hi,” I say, waving my hand in her direction.

“Hi,” she mimics me, even giving me the hand wave.

“I missed you,” she says, walking closer to me.

“You did?” I ask for clarification because I’m positive it’s only one part of me that she missed.

She jokingly pushes me against the wall and steps closer. Placing her hands on my face, she pulls it down so it’s within an inch or two of her face. “Didn’t you miss me?” she asks, and I nod unsure how to answer the question. I did until a week ago doesn’t seem right. I’m sure not what she imagined. “I’ve seen the baby, so why don’t you take me home.” She bites her bottom lip and seductively stares up at me.

“Don’t you want to spend more time with Adelaide?”

“We can come back afterwards. Hell, take me to your truck.” She presses on, her breasts brushing across my chest. Praying I would have worn a thicker t-shirt as her hand moves down along my body, and she grips my cock through my jeans.

“Shit, Sam. What are you trying to do?”

She looks around the room, noticing it’s empty. Eyeing the bathroom, she grabs my hand, tugging me forward. Before I fully gather what’s happening, I’m pinned against the bathroom wall, and I hear the lock click. This would have been my biggest fantasy, and Sam’s only worry right now would have been getting her hands dirty from being pressed against the bathroom floor.

“Sam,” I sigh as her lips raise to mine. As much as my body is responding to her—damn, my dick’s already bulging in my pants—there’s no way I can go through with this when Chrissy’s here.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” She backs up, finally questioning me. “We’ve done it in a bathroom before. Remember that airport in Denver?”

“Your sister just had her baby. Come on, Sam.” I plead the family card, and she narrows her eyes at me.

“Are you going soft on me, Dex? Trying to romance me? You know I don’t need that,” she counters.

Unable to figure an excuse out, I grab her hands in mine. “Can we please just wait until later?” I ask, and she raises her eyebrows at me.

“Okay … you have until tonight.” She takes her finger, and it travels down my chest. Gripping my waistband, she tugs me forward. “You better be worth my wait,” she says, and I chuckle uncomfortably.

Sam still amazes me with how similar we are. Both wanting the easy lay with no attachments or strings. If that’s true, why didn’t I just take her in the bathroom? Except for not having a condom with me, but knowing Sam, she probably has her own. I watch her ass sway back and forth as she walks ahead of me back to Jessa’s room. My head’s so fucked up right now. What do I really owe Chrissy? Nothing. It’s not like she’s trying to track me down to talk. Or that she had the decency to stay in the bed this morning.

I relax in the seat, giving Grant shit about being up all night and his party days gone. He only smiles and gazes at Jessa, who’s displaying the same cheesy smile. Sam hovers over her parents, desperate to have her turn at holding the baby while Jessa wolfs down her first meal in hours.

Being the Hamilton’s chauffeur, I sit back and thumb through a Sports Illustrated magazine, biding my time until they’re ready to leave. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a shadow of someone in the doorway. Shifting my vision, my heart drops when I find Chrissy with none other than Ryland Davis. Chrissy’s eyes dart away from mine to Jessa while a very suave Ryland enters the room right behind her.

“Chrissy.” Sadie welcomes her and stands up from her seat. “Hi, Ryland,” she welcomes him.

“Hi, Sadie.” He walks over to Jessa and gives her a small kiss on her cheek. “Congratulations.” Reaching across, he places his hand in front of Grant, who proudly smiles and shakes it.

“Thank you, Ryland,” Grant says. “Thank you for the flowers, too,” he continues, and Ryland points to Chrissy.

“Chrissy picked them out.” His lips turn up toward Chrissy, and I’m confused on the whole couple thing going on between them.

“Ryland,” she flirtatiously lets out a breath and then walks over to peer at the baby. “She’s beautiful, like I knew she would be,” she remarks, and Grant sits on the bed next to Jessa, pulling his wife into him.

“Oh, Ryland and Chrissy, these are my parents and my sister.” Jessa introduces them, and pleasantries are exchanged between them. As though I’m invisible, no one even acknowledges me, until Ryland turns around.

“Hi, I’m Ryland Davis.” He sticks his hand out to me, and I want to spit in mine before shaking it.

“Dex.” I give a lift with my head.

Fifteen uncomfortable minutes pass by before Ryland looks at Chrissy. “Ready?” he asks her. What? Are they on some date that I have no idea about?

“Yeah, I should probably get home,” she tells everyone. “Congratulations, again.”

She glances at Sam, who’s only focus is Adelaide in her arms and then her dejected eyes turn to me. “See you later, Dex,” she says with a soft voice. A wave of guilt flows through me like a freight train. Sam’s eyes perk up, maybe sensing the tension between us and then she’s back to concentrating on Adelaide.

Sadie decides to hitch a ride with them, so she urgently packs up her stuff, says goodbye and leaves with the two of them. Satisfaction that they won’t be alone now to do anything inappropriate brings relief to me.

An hour later, I leave with the Hamiltons. Mr. Hamilton insists on buying me dinner and then I drop them back at Grant and Jessa’s while Sam stays planted in the front seat of my truck, informing them she’s staying at my house until Jessa is discharged. After a warning look from her dad and a smile from her mother, we pull away from the curb, leaving them at the Bishops’ house.

Sam leans over to me and rests her hand on my thigh as I concentrate on the road ahead of me. Placing my hand down, I link mine with hers. I wish that excited tingling sensation occurred with our touch, but nothing happens. We drive the short distance between the two houses. I grab Sam’s bag from the bed of the truck once we park in the driveway behind Brady’s Camaro. Rob’s in the garage working on Chrissy’s car like usual when walk toward the back door.

“Hi, Rob.” Sam flips him off, and he laughs. With the bad breakup between Jess and Rob, and Sam being Jessa’s sister, their relationship—well there isn’t one.

“Sam.” He nods and then eyes me; question marks could be burned into his eyeballs as to why Sam is with me.

“Is that your piece of shit?” she asks, and he cocks an eyebrow at me.

“No,” he remarks, not divulging anything further.

“Girlfriend’s?” she continues to question.

“Maybe,” he shrugs, and I squint my eyes at him, but he laughs it off. “I’m just waiting for someone to open their eyes.” I release a huff of breath at his comment, making Sam turn to me.

“Well … fuck off,” she says to him and heads for the door. Rob shakes his head at me before grabbing a rag and wiping his hands. Ignoring him, I follow Sam’s path because the guilt of my actions are only growing more intense with Rob.

Sadie is stirring a pot of sauce that’s on the stove when we walk in the house, and Brady’s typing away on his computer. They both glance over and Sadie’s spoon stops circling and Brady’s fingers hover over the keyboard before they look at one another. “Hi, Brady,” Sam says, walking over and bending to wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“Hi ya, Sam,” he replies and hugs her back while eyeing me over her shoulder.

“Are you guys hungry?” Sadie turns and concentrates on the spoon, facing away from us while asking the question.

“No, we had dinner with my parents,” Sam says. “Now I want my dessert.” She giggles, but no one says anything or chimes in. “Man, what has happened to all of you?”

“Sorry. I’m tired.” Sadie talks first.

“Long day,” Brady adds.

“Let’s go,” Sam poises her head to the hallway and begins walking to the front of the house. I hear the back screen door open and slam shut when we get to the staircase. I don’t have to assume who just entered or the talk of the gossip in the kitchen.

We’re about to reach the top of the stairs when Chrissy’s bedroom door opens. She emerges and then stops, standing still outside her door. She’s dressed in her tight yoga pants with a tank top showing the lines of her curves and breasts for everyone to admire. Her hair is pinned to the top of her head in a messy ponytail. I love it when she’s dressed down, unwinding from the day. It only makes me want to yank her toward me and wrap my arms around her body.

“Hi, Chrissy.” Sam’s head inches back from the surprise of seeing her.

“Hi … Sam,” Chrissy stutters, just as taken aback as Sam. “Dex.” She says my name, but her eyes remain anywhere but on me.

All three of us stand there in silence until Chrissy speaks. “Well,” she inhales a deep breath, “have a good night,” she finishes, and walks past us. Her shoulder brushes along mine and I instinctively close my eyes from our touch.

Sam turns around to me and shrugs her shoulders, continuing her goal toward my bedroom. The guilt starts inside me again, churning over and over. Mindlessly, I enter my room and Sam’s already splayed across my bed within one second of us entering. “You promised,” she winks, and I plaster myself against my closed bedroom door, as though my hands are glued to it.