Page 44 of Liberate Us (Next Generation 8)

Before I could answer, my stomach rolled at the site of the wine. I pushed it toward her. “I think I’ll stick with just water for now.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“I think I got hit with a bug. I had to pull over on the way here to throw up.” It made the drive even longer, but I didn’t want to throw up in my car. I wasn’t sure what was going on but just the idea of tasting the wine on my tongue, made my stomach churn.

The drive to my mother’s took way longer than it should have but I texted Sammy as soon as I pulled into her driveway and put the car in park.

His response hadn’t been something I expected but found that I craved just the same.

Sammy: Be a good girl.

Every inch of me vibrated at those words because we both knew that I wasn’t a good girl. Not when it was just me and him anyway.

She laughed. “Maybe you’re pregnant.”

My eyes shot to my mother’s. “Right.”

“So, tell me about him.” She took a sip of her wine. “Please.”

“He’s good to me. Takes care of me. The first time with him, he went to the pharmacy and bought me pain meds and feminine products the next morning.” I almost swooned at the memory of Sammy doing that for me.

“Really?” Mom stared at me. “God, I remember how hard it was for you to get Aaron to do that for you. While you were sick in bed, he wouldn’t do shit.” She shook her head. “I lost so much respect for him the first time he did that and then after everything else...”

“I know.” I took a long swig of my water, needing something to wet my suddenly parched throat.

“This guy is a biker too? That’s what Shawnee said.”

“Yeah, but he’s different than Aaron. I sometimes have to pinch myself that he wants to be with me. Not that we’ve put a label on this yet but it’s nice. It’s comfortable with him. I can be myself and not have to worry that he’ll blow up if I question him on something or tell him that I don’t want to do...stuff.” She knew about the rape with Aaron and everything else that had happened to me, but it was still hard to talk about. Especially when I had pushed both her and Shawnee away during my time with my late husband, but I now understood it was an abusive nature in him. He was beyond controlling and I never realized it at the time.

“Does he have any kids or crazy exes?” Meaning, did he come with baggage.

“No, he doesn’t.” But as I said those words, I had never actually asked him, and he never volunteered the information either.

“Keep talking. I’m going to make us some sandwiches,” she said, rising from her chair and heading into the kitchen.

“Okay, what more do you want to know?” I asked, opening up my phone to send Sammy a text.

Me: Do you have any kids or crazy exes? My mom is asking, and I told her no, but I realized that I’ve never asked you either.

The dots started dancing across the screen almost immediately.

Sammy: No, pet. I don’t have either of those things. It’s just me and me alone.

Me: Thank God.

Sammy: Do you?

Me: No.

Sammy: What about Will?

My stomach clenched.

Me: He doesn’t count.

Sammy: He counts until he’s dead and buried.

My heart jumped.

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