Page 22 of Blue Moon Love

“He’s a’right. Just got a hitch in his giddyup.” ~ Archie “Witty” Whitlock

“Someone’s popular,” Sam commented as my phone lit up with yet another text as we made the thirty-minute drive from the hospital back to Wishing Well.

I grabbed it from the console and glanced down at the screen.

I’d made the mistake of mentioning to Delilah that I was going out on a date with Jonah when I got home from the hospital last night. She was dropping off flower arrangements for Sam, and I sort of just blurted it out. All day, she’d been blowing up my phone with questions. What was I going to wear? Where were we going? What time was he coming to pick me up? Do my brothers know? Does Sam know?

“It’s Delilah,” I explained.

“I still can’t believe her and Sawyer.” Sam looked out the window.

Sawyer and Delilah were the perfect example of opposites attracting. He was the strong, silent type, and she was bubbly and outgoing. She’d had a crush on him her entire life, and they finally got together a few years ago.

Those were the stories that fueled my delusion, as of late, of someday Sam realizing that he loved me and us riding off into the sunset together. Basically, I’d hoped he would tell me everything he’d said yesterday when he was coming out of sedation but actually mean it.

“It seems like everyone is getting married and having babies,” Sam said quietly, sadness tingeing his voice.

I glanced over at him to see if it was the drugs talking or if it was him. He was still looking out the window, so I couldn’t check his pupils, which was what they did on Grey’s to see how under the influence someone was. I’d never heard him talk about getting married and having babies before. Except when people would ask him when he was going to do it, and he would explain that it would happen when there was an ice storm warning in hell and pigs sprouted wings to fly.

The rest of the ride home was quiet. There was no conversation at all. Sam’s head was resting against the back of the seat, and his eyes were closed. I didn’t know if he was sleeping or just didn’t feel like talking. Either way, was fine with me. I had a lot going on in my head that I didn’t want to spill out, so the less I talked, the better.

We pulled up in my driveway, and his eyes opened as he lifted his head. He started to reach for the door handle, but I stopped him.

“Wait,” I instructed.

While he sat in the passenger seat, I got out and grabbed his crutches from the back, then went around to his side. When I rounded the corner, I saw he had not heeded my warning. His door was open, and he was trying to step down on his good leg.

“You’re going to be a difficult patient, aren’t you?” I sighed as I placed the crutches beneath his arms.

He grinned as he looked down at me. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

I knew what he was insinuating.

Everything came back to sex with Sam. Except, typically, he never made any innuendos toward me. Maybe it was the painkillers. Just like yesterday, when he told me he loved me. Not only loved me, but he was in love with me.

Somehow, we managed to get him up the few steps of my porch and in the door. As soon as we walked inside, I had to stop Winnie from jumping up on him. He said hi to her, then glanced over to the couch and asked, “What’s all that?”

There were pillows, sheets, and my favorite blanket, all neatly stacked in the corner.

“I’m going to sleep out here,” I explained.

“No, you’re not.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Why? We’ve slept in the same bed more times than I can count.”

“Yeah, when we were kids.”

The last time we’d shared a bed was the night before he left for boot camp. That night, when I was sure he was asleep, I’d told him that I loved him. Even though I hadn’t completely admitted my feelings to myself, something inside of me had to say the words just in case I never saw him again.

“We’re adults now,” I pointed out. “But that’s not the reason.”

“What’s the reason?”

“You know how much I move around when I’m sleeping. I don’t want to hurt you.”

I could see he wanted to argue with me. I wasn’t sure if his protests had to do with actually wanting to stay in the same bed or if they were just because he enjoyed pushing my buttons because I looked “cute” when I was mad. Either way, he wasn’t going to make me budge.

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