Page 52 of Sinister Red
My Sammy—because in my heart he will always feel like mine—looks the same, but different, and not just because he’s lying in a hospital bed with tubes and wires sticking out of him.
He’s bigger than he was before. Still lean—his frame wouldn’t allow for anything else—but I can tell he probably spent most of our time apart working out because the serious definition and extra bulk he now carries is both sexy and menacing, especially with the detached look he has on his handsome face.
Cold. Tired. Hard.
Those beautiful green and brown and gold eyes are almost empty, and even though he isn’t looking at me, I know I’m the one who dimmed the life that at one point shone so brightly in those hazel eyes. So brightly Sam lit up every room he walked into with a simple glance, and knowing that I’m the one who changed that completely guts me.
“Why are you here, Sofie?”
I clear my throat as I sit up a little in the chair—the chair I’ve been camped out in for nearly twenty-four hours. “I… I came with Harlow. And it… it didn’t seem… you didn’t have anyone to come stay with you.”
I cringe as a muscle in Sam’s jaw ticks. “I don’t need your pity, so maybe you should go be with Harlow. I’m fine on my own, always have been.”
“I didn’t want you to be alone.”
“Howthoughtful.”
“Sam… I’m here because I was worried. When Harlow called me and told me what happened, then when we got here. I was worried about— “
“Mac is dead.”
Tears immediately spring to my eyes, the same tears I’ve been shedding off and on for the last day or so for these men—this man—who will always hold a special place in my heart. “I-I thought…”
“Didn’t make it. Neither did Trudy. Pope came in about a half hour ago.”
“Oh god.” I cover my mouth to muffle the sob. “What about— “
Sam keeps staring out the window, his voice just as hollow as his eyes. “Gus died at the clubhouse, didn’t ever have a chance. I’m sure you already knew that though, same as you already know the status on the rest of the club.”
“I’m so sorry, Sammy. I’m just so— “
“Don’t,” he bites out. “You lost the right to call me that a long time ago.”
A tear slips free as I nod and sit up a little straighter. “Can I get you anything? Is there anyone you want me to call or…”
That was probably the stupidest thing I could have said right now because I know Sam doesn’t have anyone but the club. The Gentrys are here, and they’ve come in to see him, but outside of that, the Kings are the only family this man has and I’m just rubbing more salt in the wound after losing so many of them.
“Why are you here?”
“I was worried about you.”
Because I still love you and the thought of losing you broke my heart all over again.
“As you can see, I’m fine. I lost two of my goddamn mentors, two men I had more love and respect for than I would have had for my own father, countless other members of the club, and my closest friends—my fucking brothers—are in pieces, but alive, on this very wing, but I’m fine. More bullet holes, more scars. Don’t have a fucking clue if I’ll be walking out of here or rolling, but I’m fucking fine.” His eyes flick my way briefly before his hardened stare returns to the window. “I’ve survived worse than this shit, allalone, so I’ll be fucking fine. Your conscience is officially cleared.”
I nod as several more tears escape down my cheeks.
This obviously wasn’t a good idea from the start. Sam is too raw, too hurt and grieving too much for me to be here right now. I shouldn’t have come in the first place, honestly, and I don’t have any explanation for why I did outside of supporting my best friend.
I’m engaged, I’m moving on, and I vowed I’d never get mixed up with the Kings again because of all the risks it would create. In love with him or not, Sam North and his lifestyle are too dangerous to my heart because the possibility of losing him is a daily thing, one proven by this very situation, and I can’t even stomach the thought, let alone live like that.
Maybe that was exactly what I was looking for, a way to clear my conscience or wipe Sam from my mind. Closure, maybe. Closure I never gave either of us but still need all the same, and coming here to make sure he was ok, only to find Sam still so angry is probably as close as I’m going to get to making peace with the way things went.
With a stuttering breath, I get to my feet. “I’m sorry. Sorry for the incredible loss you’ve suffered, sorry for what happened to you. I hope your recovery goes well, that all of you get better without complication or— “
“I’m about two seconds away from telling you to fuck off, Sofie, because I find it incredibly hard to believe you give a good goddamn about me or anyone else sitting in ICU right now, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Not yet.”
I’m openly crying now, the reasons for my tears are endless, but the most pressing one is right in the forefront of my mind because I spoke too soon. Closure may be coming in a different way, and I have to steel myself in order to get through it. And I will get through it because I owe that to both of us if I want a chance at a real future that doesn’t involve this kind of life.