Page 69 of Backward Motion

“From the ex?” Connor asked carefully.

Sam looked at him, his teeth catching his bottom lip. “Yeah.”

“Have you talked to him since?”

“Since I had a breakdown and he pretended like I didn’t exist?” Sam asked dryly. “No. But I think I should. Close that chapter.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Sam sat up abruptly, his eyes narrowing. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Connor pulled himself up so he was facing Sam. “You’re going to need someone to help you bring everything back here. And I happen to have a van.”

Sam opened his mouth as if about to retort then closed it.

“Look, I don’t have to meet him, this ex of yours—”

“Felix.”

Connor grimaced. “Even his name pisses me off.”

Sam burst out laughing. “Don’t say that!”

“Let me come for moral support. I can wait outside. You’ll need an extra set of hands to move stuff anyway. I’ve seen you try to lift the filing boxes at the office.”

Sam gave him a playful shove. “You have a point. But I don’t want you to think less of me, okay? I don’t want you to think you made a mistake.”

Connor slid a hand beneath Sam’s jaw, tilting his chin. “How could I think that? And after everything you’ve found out about me, I’m in no position to judge.”

Sam eyed him warily. “I can’t guarantee you won’t find parts of the me from before. He’s not someone I’m too proud of.”

Connor leaned in to brush his lips against Sam’s cheek. “If he helped you get where you are now, you should be damn proud.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sam was at Jim’s Supervalue, hunting for Connor’s favorite flavor of ice cream, rum raisin—further proof that despite his youthful appearance, Connor was a seventy-year-old in disguise. Connor had been killing himself all week, trying to catch up on the backlog of jobs that had piled up while his dad was in the ICU. He’d been starting early and working late, and Sam planned to surprise him when he got back that evening with dinner and a massage—ideally one in which they were both naked. Not that there was any guarantee Connor wouldn’t fall asleep, like he had the previous night while Sam was feeling him up in bed. While he hadn’t been offended, it was the first time a man had passed out with Sam’s hand down his pants.

Sam spotted a small tub of rum raisin in the far back of the standing freezer and fished it out. He dropped it into his basket with the rest of the ingredients for dinner and was heading toward the checkout when his phone began to ring. The name on the screen made him pause before deciding he should probably pick up. Sam raised the phone to his ear with a sigh.

“Oh really?” His sister’s curt voice crackled through the receiver. “That’s what I get? A sigh?”

“Hello, Georgia.”

“Fuck you, Sam. I stuck my neck out for you, and you totally bailed!”

“Look,” Sam said, stepping around a woman peering at the selection of bagged peas. “I appreciate you making introductions andgetting me that interview, and I’m sorry I couldn’t take the job. But things have changed.”

“What’s changed? You don’t expect me to believe youwantto stay in that shithole.”

“I’ve met someone.”

Now it was his sister’s turn to sigh. “Here we go. This is your MO, Sam. You think people can save you from yourself, so you latch onto the closest warm body and let them determine your fate.”

Sam lurched to a stop in the middle of the frozen foods aisle. “That’s a pretty accurate description, actually,” he conceded. “You could have saved me a ton of money on therapy if we’d had this talk five years ago.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But it’s not like that this time,” Sam said, his tone softening. He thought of the way Connor had listened, undeterred, while Sam warned him about himself. How Connor had reached for him in spite of his failings. “I don’t need saving. As for determining my fate, well, that’s my responsibility. No one else’s.”