Nantucket Romance 3-in-1 Bundle (23 page)

Sam’s hands shook with anger. She folded the letter and ripped it in half, then ripped it again and again for good measure, until all that was left was bits of paper. Some landed on her lap; other pieces fell to the floor between the sofa and table.

Many nights she’d lain in bed wondering if her mom was out there somewhere aching for the daughter she left. Sam imagined her guilt and regret. She imagined her showing up on her doorstep someday, full of apologies.

Now the truth smacked Sam in the face. In one quick gesture, she swept the pieces of paper off her lap. She felt rejected all over again. She’d thought her mom didn’t have the power to hurt her anymore. That she’d already done all the damage one mom could do.

She was wrong.

Sam awoke to a knock on the door. Her eyes were heavy, and the sun shining through the curtains stung them. She lifted her foot down and realized the Advil had worn off sometime after she fell asleep.

“Caden,” she called. “The door.”

“Take your time,” Landon called from the porch. “It’s just me.”

By the time Caden padded through the living room, she’d rubbed the sleep from her eyes and ran her hand through her tangled hair. A yawn threatened, but she stifled it.

Caden unlocked and swung open the door.

“Breakfast is served,” said Landon. He balanced a white box on his palm like a server with a tray.

“Donuts!” Caden clapped her hands together, bouncing on the balls of her bare feet.

“Good morning, ladies.” He set the box on the coffee table.

Landon’s presence warmed Sam from the inside out. “’Morning.” She knew she was a mess. She hadn’t fallen asleep until way after midnight.

“Caden, can you get the paper plates and napkins?” Landon asked.

“Sure.” She watched her daughter run to do his bidding, wishing Caden were so compliant for her.

Her ankle hurting, she set her foot on the table and reached for the bottle of Advil.

After dining on donuts, Sam showered as best she could on one leg while Caden and Landon piled the living room furniture into the kitchen. By the time she was dressed, Landon was sweeping the wood floor in preparation for the polyurethane finish, and she remembered her mom’s letter. Sam looked at the center of the living room, now bare. The bits of paper were gone, and she wondered what Landon had thought when he saw them.
It doesn’t reallymatter, does it? I have a right to my anger.

Determined not to let her mom ruin the day, Sam decided to put the letter behind her. With fresh perspective, she surveyed the room. Now that the rugs and furniture were gone, she could see stains. Her heart sank.

“Don’t worry,” Landon said. “I refinished the floors when I moved into my mom and dad’s, so I know how to get those out. They look like surface stains. Are you sure you don’t want me to refinish the floor? If I run out of time, I could always finish it after you leave.”

“While you’re working extra hours to make up for this so-called vacation? I don’t think so.”

Landon retrieved his dad’s old drum sander and insisted she sit in the sun while he worked. “It’s going to get hot and dusty in here,” he explained. “Anyway, you could use some fresh air.”

He brought her a fresh bandage and the bag of frozen peas, and she rewrapped her ankle and set the bag on it. The Advil had kicked in, and for the first time since the injury, her ankle didn’t hurt.

Since Caden couldn’t help with the floor, Sam let her invite Amber over. They drew pictures on the pier boards with sidewalk chalk until the sun grew hot, then they waded into the cool water, squatting until their slender shoulders skimmed the surface. Their laughter floated on the breeze, mingling with the leaves that danced overhead, shading her from the hot sun.

After dinner, Melanie called. “I was getting ready to come get Amber and wondered if Caden would like to spend the night again.”

The girls responded with loud squeals, especially when Melanie promised to take them to the beach the next day.

By the time they left, twilight had settled over the yard, bringing out the night sounds she remembered so well. Sam leaned back on the porch chair, listening to the orchestra through the screen, her hand resting on Max’s head.

“The dust has settled if you want to go back inside.” The door squeaked as Landon stepped through it. He handed her a glass of soda, and the ice tinkled in the glass as she took it.

“Nah. It smells better out here.” The smell of paint fumes had faded, but all the sanding left a sawdust smell.

Max walked to the screen door and pushed, letting himself out.

Landon sank into the chair beside her. “It’s all cleaned up and ready for a coat of varnish. Sorry the stains took so long. I’d hoped to start varnishing this afternoon.”

“You hardly owe me an apology. Anyway, I think I’ll be able to help tomorrow, so we’ll get back on track.”

Sam could feel his gaze on her. “You don’t want to rush it.”

“It hardly even hurts now. And I can put my weight on it.”

He stared at her. “Sam.”

She stopped herself from rolling her eyes. “I’ll take breaks.” She pinned him with a look until she was sure he understood that she wasn’t backing down.

“You’re the most stubborn woman I’ve ever known.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “I prefer to call it
determined
.”

“Most stubborn people do. And don’t forget, I taught you to drive.”

Sam humphed. “What’s that got to do with anything?” She lifted the soda to her lips and let the fizzy liquid glide down her throat.

“Do the words
stick shift
and
’Sconset
ring a bell?”

She hadn’t thought about that in years. A smile threatened. Emmett wouldn’t let her use his car, so Mrs. Reed let Landon teach Sam to drive in her old beat-up Citation. It had taken them two hours to reach ’Sconset, normally a fifteen-minute drive.

“So it took me a while to get there.” She cocked her head like Max. “With a little determination, I managed.”

“And then insisted on driving back.”

“So what?”

“In the dark.”

“Are you afraid of boogeymen?”

“Three hours and forty-five minutes to ’Sconset and back. My knuckles were white for a week.”

“But I learned to drive a stick shift.”

“Stubborn.”

“Determined.”

Sam relaxed into her chair, listening to the oscillating buzz of insects and the ever-present whoosh of waves lapping the shoreline. Darkness had swallowed up the heat of the day, and the breeze that slipped through the screen refreshed her.

“Listen to that,” Landon said. “It’s so peaceful.”

She closed her eyes and let her ears do all the work. To her, the sound was comforting. It had lulled her to sleep many a night when everything else was so frightening. “You love it here, don’t you?”

A loon called out from somewhere near the shoreline.

“I really do,” he said.

She remembered loving this place before her dad died. But then things happened that tainted the island, coloring it a gloomy shade of gray. She had to admit the shadows had lifted a bit recently.

“The winters stink,” she said. Especially along the shoreline, where cold winds whipped across the ocean. It was almost impossible to keep a house warm. Not to mention expensive.

“True. But the summers are worth it.” The cushion on his chair crinkled as he shifted. “Besides, I have good memories here.”

The irony struck her that although they had grown up two doors apart during the same time period, their childhoods were polar opposites. She laughed wryly.

“Come on, they weren’t all bad.” She could tell he’d turned toward her by the sound of his voice. “Remember the time capsule we buried? It took you five weeks to decide what should be in it. If it had been up to me, I would have taken five minutes.”

Sam opened her eyes and turned toward him. She hadn’t realized the chairs were so close together. “I remember.” They’d dug it up the summer they graduated and laughed at the items she’d selected: An unopened pack of Hubba Bubba bubble gum, two ticket stubs to
Home Alone
, a cassette tape of
The Joshua Tree
by U2, and a beaded bracelet Landon had made for her. She wondered what they’d done with those things.

The light from the living room window lit Landon’s face, and a shadow settled into the cleft of his chin. “And the time you found that dead bird and insisted we have a memorial service.”

That was before her dad died, before all the good had been sucked from her life. She found the starling under a bush in Miss Biddle’s yard. Her tender heart had broken. “That’s not a good memory.”

His lips twitched. “You sang Simon and Garfunkel’s ‘Sparrow’ and buried the thing in a Pop-Tarts box.”

Sam remembered Landon digging the shallow hole in his mom’s flower garden and waiting patiently for her to finish. “Okay, I see the humor.”

“And then there was the time—”

“Okay, okay, I get your point. There were good memories too.” It was just that the bad outweighed them by a sandy beach mile. She studied Landon’s face. He was at the center of every good memory since her dad’s passing. His presence brought her joy and peace. Maybe that’s why her life had been so empty since she left the island. Maybe Landon was the healing water that would quench her loneliness. She let the thought wash over her the way Landon’s gaze washed over her now. In the depth of his eyes was a fathomless pool of emotion. In the strength of his arms was stability. In the heart of his soul was a steadiness she longed for.

His eyes flickered down to her lips. “Sam,” he whispered.

The sound of her name on his lips ignited a yearning in her. A yearning for comfort. For joy. For love. A need to surrender to this aching desire.

Caden wasn’t here.

The bow in his lip begged to be touched. She leaned toward him, wanting to feel his mouth on hers. His fingers cupped her chin as they closed the gap. His breath was the softest whisper on her skin. As her eyes fluttered closed, she felt the warmth of his lips. Her palm closed around the roughness of his jawline.

He deepened the kiss, and she arched closer, cursing the arm of the chair that dug into her ribs, separating them. It was the way a kiss should be, stopping time, stealing breath.

He drew back, and a whimper left her throat. But he was on his knees in front of her before she could say a word. He grasped her waist and pulled her into him. He framed her face with his gentle hands and kissed her again. Her hands slid around his back.

His mouth was patient on hers. “Sam,” he whispered against her lips.

Sam clutched at his shoulders, wanting to be closer, wanting to climb inside him. She wasn’t sure even then she would be close enough.

His fingers worked into her hair, sending shivers down her spine. “Sam.” He paused, his lips a breath away. “I love you so much.”

His lips were on hers again, and she let his words sink in and fill the hole inside her.
I love you too, Landon.
For the first time she knew with certainty it was true. She not only loved him now; she had loved him long before she ever left. It was why she’d hated him for leaving. Why she’d told herself she didn’t care if he left. Why she’d felt the need to prove it by sleeping with his brother. It was apparent in the way she responded to him, in the way she compared every man to him, in the way she’d carried him with her for the past eleven years. She wondered that she hadn’t seen it until now.

Sam clung to him, feeling his love in the gentle passion of his kiss. She hadn’t said the words to him. She’d never said them to any man. They worked their way up, ready to roll off her tongue, but her throat closed up, tightening around her voice like a boa constrictor around its prey.

Why couldn’t she say it?

Because you’d be a fool to tell him, Sam.

The thought was an unwelcome intruder. She wanted to push the door closed on it, but it came from deep inside.

No. He loves me.

So did your dad. And he left you.

No! He died. He didn’t leave me.

Same difference, isn’t it?

It wasn’t the same. He hadn’t wanted to leave her. Sam’s lips moved against Landon’s, and she struggled to draw in air.

And what about your mom? She said she loved you too.

She loved me in her own way.

She didn’t even mention you in her letter. You can’t trust love, Sam.Haven’t you learned that yet? You’re a fool.

Her emotions tugged her back and forth in a familiar battle she wanted to win this time. She could trust Landon. She could. She leaned into him and grasped his shirt, knotting it up in her fist.

He already left you once.

It was only for college. He was going to come back. He did comeback. He loved me. He still loves me. This is right, I know it is.

If it’s so right, why are you afraid?

The voice held enough truth to shake her. Tully didn’t make her feel afraid. Neither did the other men she went out with. They made her feel empowered, strong, capable. With Landon she felt weak and afraid. Helpless.