Page 29 of The Final Storm
Sam hovers over me, lifting my body flush with his. His heart thuds in his chest, hard and erratic. “Are you okay? Your body’s been through a lot.” he pleads.
“Having your child,” I remind him.
He shifts me into his lap, and I fight it at first. His hands move under my knees, wrapping my legs around his waist. After a few minutes of struggle and the throbbing in my hip radiating through my body, I admit defeat. He rests his head on my shoulder with my legs wrapped around him, both of us a mess of frustration sitting on the floor.
“You’re keeping things from me,” I tell him. “Why are you hurting me?”
“I’m trying to do the opposite.” His fingers dig into my sides, clinging to me. With each heavy breath, he pulls me closer to him. His hold on me feels so intense that I can hardly catch air. “The last thing I want to do is hurt you - hurt our family.” His words shake and so do his arms around me.
Is he having a panic attack?
“You don’t trust me with the truth. I can handle it. Whatever it is, we are in this together,” I gasp. “Sam, you’re holding me so tight. Too tight.”
I run my hands down his back, and he loosens his hold, but only a little. I still feel him shaking against me. Minutes pass before the heaving of his body stops, stilling him. His body is still tense as he adjusts his grip around my waist and shoulders, locking me in.
A sudden realization hits me.
He’s holding me so I can’t run.
“Sam,” I say, clawing at his shoulders. He doesn’t respond - doesn’t breathe. “Sam?”
“It’s Cecilia,” he answers. “My wife.”
Chapter 11
Unwanted
Mysistermetherhusband in our hometown. I met Dean the same way, sharing classes, after-school activities, and jobs. Small towns have their own biosphere. Everything gets spit back out into your little world. Someone dated your person, someone worked your job, someone lived your life. Unwanted things make their way to a new host.
My brother-in-law and Dean made the list of the unwanted, but only after it was too late.
Our environment pushed those things upon us. Everywhere we went, the same people surrounded us. The same ideas about who we were and what our lives would be. It seemed inescapable. No matter how difficult my sister’s husband made their relationship, he still delivered the feed to our farm. Every week, he arrived and made a point to see her.
He wore her down.
Our small school meant anyone with half a brain shared every class, which put Dean and me together eight hours a day. He found me in the mornings and walked me home from school. Escaping his closeness felt pointless. He would be there, regardless. Why fight it? His manipulation was foreign to me then.
He wore me down.
The universe brings things together in that way and forces you to handle the unwanted.
But in no lifetime did I think I would be one of the unwanted, that I would be the woman in the way, the uninvited guest in someone else’s life. The problem.
And I never thought it would occur because of a resurrection. That’s the only way to describe… this. The universe pushed a dead woman into our laps and our marriage.
And who here is the unwanted?
Time passes while I remain frozen in Sam’s lap. He shakes, adjusting his grasp every few minutes, refusing to release me. He knows me so well even though our time together is short compared to the time with… his wife.
Will I run?
Of course, I’ll fucking run. That’s all I know to do. I ran to Dean all those years ago when my drunk mother and absent father left us on a farm we couldn’t handle by ourselves. I ran away to the water when the storms became too much to handle. Again, back to Dean, never leaving that small town after all. Always in his orbit. I ran to Sam, letting myself fall in love with him because he said and did the right things. He was trying to survive. I would have done the same thing waking up on a ship with some stranger that saved me.
I’m so stupid.
I never look at Sam. I stare at the blank wall behind him. The lines of thought turn in my head like spaghetti, out of order, and create a mess. He grazes my neck with his lips, never reaching my mouth.
But we have a child together.
