Page 10 of Securing Samantha

“No. This is perfect,” she reassured him.

He gestured for her to sit as he poured himself coffee.

“Do you only drink coffee now?” she asked.

“I drink the tea, but it’s not my favorite,” he replied.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the boxes she brought for him. “I know you prefer Irish Breakfast, and you loved a good cup of chamomile in the evening,” she explained. “I trade my tea for the Irish Breakfast Blend, and I make my own chamomile. I thought you might like these.”

His smile faltered a bit as he accepted her offering. “I don’t know. Some things taste different to me,” he explained.

“We can try them. Grab another cup,” she directed.

He pulled one down from the cupboard. He brought the water over while she added tea to the steeper. He started to pour the tea. His hand shook and she lightly grasped his wrist. “I’ll pour. Why don’t you open the box? Bryanna added a new dessert for us to try.”

He let her handle the water and slid the box open and took out two slices of chocolate cake filled with chocolate mousse in between the layers. “Bryanna knows how to bake,” he complimented.

“Here’s the first tea. I made it like you drank it before…” her voice trailed off.

He picked up the cup and brought it to his lips. “It’s a bit plain.”

She smiled. “I believe you developed a sweet tooth. Try this.” She added a spoonful of the honey.

Whiskey picked up the cup and tried again. He grimaced. “It’s too sweet.”

She added a bit of milk and handed it back to him.

He took a tentative sip. His eyebrows went up and he tipped the cup farther back. “I like this.”

She went about making her own cup as he enjoyed his slice of cake.

“We always worked great as a team. We figured everything out together. Do you remember when we purchased our first home? The sink broke and you flooded the entire kitchen. With?—”

“I remember,” he hastily told her. “Excuse me.” He walked from the room.

Samantha sat confused. She only meant to remind him of a happy memory. She waited. She moved to sit in the living room. Twenty minutes went by before Whiskey returned. “I’m sorry, this was a mistake. I can’t do this.” He swiped at his face as his attention focused on the door.

She slowly rose from the couch. “Liam, I’m not expecting anything from you. Relax. We’re two people enjoying a conversation. No expectations, no pressure,” she assured him.

“Samantha, I see the way you look at me. I make you uncomfortable.”

“I make you unsettled. You act as if you don’t want me near you. Claire acts as a warden. We’re still married, Liam. I don’t need someone to tell me what to say or do. We can figure it out together if you let me in. I imagine it feels scary but we can navigate through it. We can’t pretend your parents don’t exist or our son. We can’t stay in a bubble. I’m willing to work with you and provide the space you need. I want to know if you want the same things.”

“I don’t know. I’m not the same person. I feel weak. I don’t want my da and mum to see me like this. I don’t know our son. It’s better he thinks I died.” Whiskey shook his head.

“And what about your wife, Liam? Do I have any choice in the matter? I feel uncomfortable because of your distance. I understand and then I don’t. Why don’t you want me anymore?” she asked. Tears fell from her cheeks. She waited for him to respond.

Whiskey turned and retreated back to the closet. Samantha left the cold tea on the counter untouched as she walked out the door.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Whiskey sat in Claire’s office. Samantha refused to turn in his direction. Her gaze pinned on Claire.

“I understand you attempted a meeting over the weekend. Samantha, I met with Whiskey earlier and he stated it didn’t go as planned. Do you want to talk about it?” Claire asked gently.

“I understand my husband withstood torture daily and he has medical issues along with PTSD. I want to know what the process is. Do PTSD patients stay away from the people who love them? Do you hospitalize him? Moving forward, what’s the future plans or goals? I realize it’s only a month since I discovered him alive, and he’s stayed on the mountain before then. How does this process work?” She angrily shot out her questions to Claire.

“Everyone’s different. Have you attended the support groups I mentioned?” Claire leaned forward at Samantha’s defensive tone.

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