Page 66 of Rush

“So stupid,” I cry into the dark empty space, shame and guilt twisting my insides. Reaching for my phone, my finger hovers over one of the only people who may be able to help give me some clarity, to tell me what to do. Her phone rings three times before she answers.

“Sam?”

“Aunt Paisley.” I say her name, my voice thick with tears and relief.

She pauses and I hear her breath hitch. “Oh, honey. Are you crying?”

Silently, the tears track down my face, falling into my lap. “I’m so confused.”

I hear her shuffling around, picturing her getting comfortable on her favorite chair in the living room with her evening tea. “Well now, tell me what's going on. Does it have something to do with that young man of yours?”

I tell her everything, leaving out only the part about our sex life and the fact that he locked me in his home and got rid of my apartment. By the time I’m done, I’m fully crying, barely able to form sentences and my aunt has gone quiet.

“Can you say something, please?”

Aunt Paisley laughs, the sound sounding incredulous. “Honey, I don’t even know what to say to all of that. I can understand how it's overwhelming.”

“That’s putting it lightly.” I chuckle, rolling my eyes.

“I can also see how you might feel conflicted,” she adds gently, and her tone sets off another round of silent tears.

“I don’t know if I’m as conflicted as I sound,” I admit, waiting for her patient guidance and not the scathing retort I would expect from my mom.

She hums softly. “Jameson surprised me. When you both just graduated and you moved in with me, I thought now we’ll see what happens. This will be the true test of this young man’s character. And you know what, Sam? That boy outshone all expectations I had of him. He was present, not only for Dylan, but for you as well. I wondered if you saw what he was doing in the shadows for you, but I didn’t push it. You had your mom in your ear, and as much as I love my sister, she seriously underestimated the role he was willing to have in your life. It's why I tried so hard to help him insert himself more.”

“You knew he was doing all those things?” I gasp a little, wondering again how I was so blind all these years.

“I had some suspicion. Sam, if I had thought for any reason you or Dylan weren’t safe, I wouldn’t have let it continue. Every time that boy was around, you lit up. Whenever he looked at you, he looked like he was staring at his own heart. And when he was holding his daughter, you could tell she had him wrapped around his finger.” Aunt Paisley laughs softly.

“I don’t know what to do. I forgive him. I don’t even think I’m as mad anymore, but it feels like there’s this vise wrapped around my neck holding me back, waving warning signs that don’t exist.” My voice breaks, and I hear her trying to comfort me.

“Sam, only you have the power to let that fear go. What I can tell you is that you were young when your father died. You spent a long time, just you and your mother, before Allie came along and then you were placed in the role of second parent. I know my sister didn’t do it on purpose and I know she did her best as a single mother, but like I said to you at Thanksgiving: your life situation and hers are very different. Jameson is crazy in love with you, wanting a family. Do not hold yourself back over some misguided notion that you have to be strong without him, not when he’s present, here, and fighting for the opportunity to love you.”

My eyes close tightly with every word she says. Taking it in, feeling their truth, and accepting what I have known all along. I’m proud of my mom for what she has accomplished, given the circumstances she was in, but I am not her. Jameson is not my dad or Allie’s dad. Jameson is here and he wants to give me the world.

“Thank you,” I tell her, wiping the tears off my face and getting to my feet.

“Do you know what you need to do now, honey?”

My head nods, even though she can’t see me. “I think I finally do.”

CB Auto is quiet. Only one of the parking lot lights is on; the building itself is dark and shut down. The apartment above looks just as dark. Standing outside the main entrance, my hand shakes, reaching out to enter the lock code. Between my phone call with my aunt and the drive here, I had let go of my fear of allowing Jameson to take care of me. Now I’m just scared that I’m too late.

“Quit being a chicken,” I mutter to myself, the heel of my palms digging into my eyes. With another small exhale, I punch in 99913. The age we met. My hockey number. Your hockey number. The age I knew I wanted you forever. His voice in my memories sends shivers down my spine and my heart races. He wouldn’t make that grand of a gesture if things were past the point of no return for us.

The second I hit the last number, the light turns green and the lock pops. Opening the door, I let myself in and quietly take my shoes off. The apartment is dark, except for the kitchen light glowing softly in the smaller space. Quietly, I drop my bag on the couch, along with my jacket and hoodie. The less clothes I have on for what I plan to do, the better. I sneak down the hall, peeking into Dylan’s room, checking to make sure my baby girl is still sleeping. Her nightlight makes her just visible inside with her blanket. I close the door again and move farther down the hall.

My hand grips the doorhandle, and I pause. Once I go in there, everything changes. I slide inside the room and lock the door behind me. There’s a rustle of blankets and I can make out Jameson’s frame, leaning up. His phone light washes the room in a slight glow.

“Sam?”

I don’t answer. My heart’s now stuck in my throat while I peel my sweatpants off and let them drop to the floor. Jameson’s sharp inhale cuts through the quietness. Reaching above my head, I pull my shirt off next, followed by my bra.

“Baby, come here.” His voice is gruff, and heat races over my skin.

My fingers run along the band at my waist before hooking inside the material and pulling my panties down to the ground. I can feel his gaze taking in every inch of my body.

“Tell me I’m not dreaming,” he begs, shifting to lean against his headboard.