Page 47 of Defending What is Mine

Sam takes my hand and pulls herself up. “Thanks,” she says, still working to put away the giggles.

“Alright then. Interested in a soft pretzel? I know a place around here that’s pretty good.”

“Believe it or not, but I might just know the place you’re referring to… Had an almost-date with a guy there once. Sounds delightful.”

Something about hearing Sam refer to our last encounter at the airport so nonchalantly surprises me. “An almost-date, huh?” I rub the stubble on my chin as I lead us toward The Pretzel Palace, ever mindful of my gait. “Sounds somewhat less than memorable.”

“I don’t know about that.” Sam laughs. “I’ve found myself thinking back on that pretzel more than once.”

I stop in place and turn, prepared to clarify the point I was trying to make, but Sam doesn’t stop.

She doesn’t even slow down.

She keeps her eyes locked ahead as she passes, a knowing smile on her face.

When she’s several paces ahead she turns, walking backward as she continues toward the bistro. “You forget where it is or something, Wilde? It’s just up ahead. Come on, I’ll show you.”

I fight to control a grin as I shake my head, then re-adjust my duffel so I can hustle to catch up. “Yep. I’m coming. Guess I lost my bearings.”

We flirt and joke while we wait in the short line and I swear it feels like time here has been frozen since I left. Like things with Sam couldn’t possibly be better. And all the worry and anxiety I’ve felt about seeing her again begins to soften.

And life is good.

So good in fact that, for a moment, I even forget about my leg. Somewhere in the midst of good company and good conversation, I relax back in my seat and cross one leg over the other.

And that’s when she sees it.

Sam pushes back in her chair and the look on her face is pure disgust. “What is that?!”

A cold sweat beads at my temples and dread consumes me whole. “I didn’t know how to tell you, how to come back to you, how to come back to this…this perfect thing we have and have tell you that I’m not the same man I was when I left.” Desperate not to let this devolve into the sum of all my fears, I lean in and place my hand on hers as I search for signs of empathy and understanding. Instead all I find is horror.

Sam’s lips curl and her brow furrows as she pulls her hand away. When her gaze meets mine, I flinch from what I see there, and she opens her mouth and screams…

* * *

Sitting up in the darkened hospital room, my chest is tight, and no matter how deep I breathe, I can’t catch my breath. Beads of sweat race down my back. Outside, the night wanes as hints of daylight appear in the distance. If I had any hope of things working out with Sam before, this sufficiently put them to rest.

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