Page 19 of Blue Moon Love

That sentence out of most people’s mouths would sound like a serial killer or deranged, but somehow Sam pulled it off.

“I want to taste your sweat. I want to taste your saliva. I want to taste your come.”

My hand flew over his mouth. “Stop!” I warned as my face flushed.

Even though I knew it was the drugs he was on talking, and not how he actually felt, hearing that he wanted to taste my sweat, my saliva, and my come had caused all of those things to take notice. My mouth was watering. A tiny bead of sweat had broken out on the back of my neck. And there was a definite tingling between my legs.

I knew that he was only saying those things because he was under the influence of pain medication. If any guy could flirt while he was high as a kite, it was Sam Whitlock.

“No. I don’t want to stop.” He pushed my hand away, and his expression turned from flirty to frustrated. His brow furrowed, and he took in a shallow breath. “I want to tell you the things I never tell you because I can’t tell you them.”

Thanks to the hundreds of hours I’d spent watching and rewatching Grey’s Anatomy, I knew that he was becoming belligerent because of the medication; it was a side effect. I didn’t want to do anything to upset him because that could cause his blood pressure to shoot up. Thankfully, I remembered that the best course of action was just to go along with whatever the patient said.

“You can tell me anything.”

“No.” He kept shaking his head. “No. I can’t.”

When I saw a tear fall down his cheek, I looked over my shoulder to see if there was a nurse around because I knew he must be in a lot of pain. Sam didn’t cry. Ever. He didn’t even cry at his mom or dad’s funerals. I didn’t see anyone, so I started to stand to go and get someone, but was stopped when he reached out and grabbed my hand.

“Where are you going? Don’t leave me.”

“I’m just going to get someone to see if you can have more medicine for your pain.”

“I’m not in pain. I don’t need any medicine. I just need you. Don’t leave.” His big brown eyes stared up at me, and I lowered back down into my chair.

No sooner had I lowered back down that his eyes began to drift shut. “You’re my person. Do you know that?”

“Yes,” I assured him. “I know. I’m your best friend.”

Even when we were kids and the twins and other boys at school would give him shit for having a girl as a best friend, he never cared.

“No.” He shook his head. “You’re not.”

“Okay.” I wasn’t sure why he was saying that, but I wasn’t going to argue with him. “I’m not your best friend.”

“No! You are my best friend, but you’re also my person. You’re my family. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sam.”

His eyes were shut as he shook his head. “No.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I repeated.

Without warning, his eyes flew open. The intensity of his stare caused my breath to hitch. “No, I mean, I’m in love with you, Kenna.”

I stared down at him, not sure how to respond. I’d waited my entire life to hear him say those words, and now that I had, they didn’t mean anything. They were empty. They were just the ramblings of someone on morphine.

He was either satisfied I’d received the message or the medication took over again, because he closed his eyes and was out like a light. I sat beside him, staring down at his chest as it rose up and down in a steady rhythm.

It wasn’t real, I told myself as the words, I’m in love with you, Kenna, played on repeat over and over again in my head.

Tomorrow, Sam wouldn’t even remember this conversation. But I would, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

10

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