Chapter Forty-eight

Chapter Forty-eight

Chloe

Turning away from the coffee pot that I was plugging in, I look to see who’s at the door. I don’t remember having any deliveries scheduled for today, but I have a bad habit of buying stuff off of I*******m ads and then forgetting about it. Only delivery drivers and a select few friends know the code to my gate, though that doesn’t mean someone couldn’t have hopped the fence.

“Can I help you?” Charles asks right as it hits me that someone could have seen Charles come over and is trying to get a candid photo of him. Which now makes me feel bad for asking him to answer the door, but dammit, I need coffee. I fell asleep early—before I could drink more wine—but I can tell a headache is coming on fast.

Eric got up nearly an hour ago and has been out jogging since. Charles and I dragged out butts out of our rooms not all that long ago, both grumbling about being too old to drink like we used to.

Unable to see who’s at the door, I sidestep, and Sam’s clear blue eyes come into view. A smile immediately comes to my face. “Sam!” I call and Charles moves aside. But the look on Sam’s face doesn’t match mine.

His eyes go from me to Charles and back again. I don’t think anything of it until I see the abhorrence on his face. Oh my god. No, he wouldn’t think—but the article—no.

Sam takes a step back, slowly shaking his head. Charles is wearing pajama pants and I’m in booty shorts and a tank top. I know what this looks like, even if there wasn’t fake history between us.

And the news of us getting back together just yesterday isn’t helping.

“It’s not what you think,” I rush out and then wish I could take my words back, realizing it makes me sound guilty. Sam and I had a major hiccup in our relationship and the next day I’m waking up with my ex. Yeah. I look bad right now.

Really bad.

But Sam knows me. He trusts me. If he doesn’t…then we don’t have what we thought we did between us.

“Sam, wait!” I rush out after him, but he’s already off my porch. “It’s not what you think,” I repeat, having already said it.

He stops and turns around. “Then what is it?” He looks at me, pain obvious on his face. “Because it looks like you went back to the arms of your ex-boyfriend as soon as things get rough.”

“No,” I press, heart racing. “Charles and I are friends—just friends—and we were drinking last night so he stayed.”

I’m digging myself a deeper grave, I know. For someone who writes for a living, I sure can be bad with words.

“You were drinking with your ex-boyfriend, and he stayed the night,” Sam repeats, face paling. Right when I think things can’t get any worse, Eric comes up the driveway, pulling his shirt off and using it to wipe sweat off his forehead.

“Hey, guys, what’s—” He cuts off, taking in the tension in the air. Charles steps forward, taking one of Eric’s hands. He looks at Sam.

“There’s nothing going on between myself and Chloe. There never has been.” He pulls Eric a little closer. “Our relationship was set up by our publicist because I wasn’t ready to come out to the world yet.” He looks at Eric and smiles. “But I think I am now.”

“What?” Sam asks, looking from me to Charles and back again. Charles has a playboy reputation—with women. Sam’s confusion is warranted.

“Chloe has been my best friend and biggest supporter all these years. Chloe was one of the few people who knew—and kept—my secret.” Charles looks back into Eric’s eyes. “But I’m tired of secrets.”

I’m looking at Sam and can see Charles and Eric embracing out of the corner of my eye. “Did you really think I’d…” I can’t even finish the sentence. “You know me.”

“I do,” Sam comes closer. “I know you’d never do something like that. I was…startled, that’s all.” He lets out a sigh and pulls me into his arms. My heart swells in my chest, and I wrap my arms around him, kissing him with fervor, pulse racing. This is where I’m meant to be—with Sam.

Who’s here. In LA. I pull back, eyes wide.

“Why are you here?” I rush out. “I mean, I’m very glad to see you, but I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I know.” He has that cocky grin on his face, and it’s doing bad things to me. “Stacey lied. She really is pregnant, but it’s not mine. I wanted to tell you in person.”

I blink, needing a second to process everything. “Seriously?” I blurt, and Sam nods.

“Yeah. She’s only nine weeks. There’s no way it’s mine.”

“Wow, what a bitch move,” Charles says, and I turn, almost forgetting he and Eric are there. The world disappeared the moment Sam took me back into his arms.

“I don’t know how she thought it was going to end,” Sam goes on, brushing my hair back. “I would have found out eventually.”

“So everything is okay now?” I ask, eyes filling with tears.

“It was always okay,” Sam soothes. “We might be miles apart, but what we have…it’s not fragile. I’ve loved you for years, and I will always love you.”

A tear rolls down my cheek and Sam brushes it away with his thumb before kissing me again. He’s right: we’re half a country apart, and I have no idea where I’ll end up. Love doesn’t mean everything works out perfectly. It means you keep trying, it means you don’t give up. At times it’s messy, but we have each other, and that’s all we need.

*

“He’s beautiful.” Sam runs his hand down Spartan’s neck. “And big.”

“He’s a big softie is what he is.” I clip the lead rope to his halter and lead my big gray horse outside. The grass is dry and browning, and Spartan sniffs around, looking for the best grass to eat. Sam has been in LA with me for two days now, and has to leave in a few hours so he can get back to Chicago for work.

And I’m going back with him. We don’t have a plan other than that, but we know we want to be together. What comes next…we’ll figure it out. Together.

“How’s he doing?” Sam asks.

“Better, but I’m still worried he’s going to pull a muscle again. Retired racehorses can run into lots of issues. It’s sad, really, how they’re worked so hard when they’re young and it sets them up for a lifetime of issues after that.”

“That is sad, but he has a good home now.”

“Yeah.” I smile and follow along, letting Spartan take the lead on where to go. “I do think he’d like being in the Midwest where it’s a little cooler and the grass isn’t always dry. Plus, having to evacuate him a few years ago really traumatized me. I mean, I know something bad can happen anywhere, but the fires…they scare me.”

“That would be scary. He’s making me miss having horses.” Sam pets him again, brushing pieces of hay off his withers. Rory was more into horses than her brothers, and I loved getting to go over to the Harris farm and ride around with her.

Spartan lifts his head and nuzzles Sam’s pocket, looking for more treats. I smile, watching them interact. If my horse doesn’t like you, then I don’t either. Nothing says giant red flag like a horse being wary of a person.

“Remember that old farmhouse off Willow Road?” he asks, giving Spartan the last treat from his pocket.

“How could I forget it? It’s only the most haunted building in Silver Ridge. Well, besides the old bed-and-breakfast.”

“I’ve always liked it,” Sam says with a shrug, surprising me a bit. “There’s another farmhouse by Rory that has always appealed to me too, not that I’d move to Eastwood.”

“Do you think it’s haunted too?”

“It probably is, since it’s been bought and sold a lot.”

“Ohh, now I’m interested.” Spartan leads us to a new patch of grass. “How far from Chicago is she?”

“Only about an hour or so. It’s not a bad drive if you don’t run into traffic.”

“I’d like to go see her sometime,” I say with a smile. “It would be fun.”

“She would love that. She’s your OG fangirl.”

My smile widens, heart warming again. Spartan rubs his head against Sam, making me laugh. But then it hits me all at once, so hard it almost makes me stagger back.

There is only one man in this world who can shatter my heart into a million pieces—and there’s only one who can put those broken pieces back together.

And he did.