Chapter Twenty-Eight
My heart dives into the pit of my stomach as I sit beside him. “Leaving?”
“They’re kicking me out. I tried to argue, but it’s as if I don’t have a voice. All these people are making decisions for me.”
Who is? Ben? Kathleen?“Talk to me,” I say, and place my hand over his.
He entwines our fingers together. His chest expands as he takes in repeated deep breaths. “Your boss says they need my room for someone else. They said that I’ve improved enough, and I’m no longer classified as ‘high care’. They’re cutting funding for me. Ben’s made arrangements outside, which involves support through health services.”
I swallow down. “That’s great,” I say. “I mean, you’ve come a long way since I got here.”
“I should be happy, shouldn’t I?” he says.
My shoulders bunch up towards my ears. “Well, yeah.”
“Before you came along, all I could think about was these four crappy walls. Now you’re in the picture … ” He shakes his head and focuses on the space in front of him.
“It’ll all work out, Sam,” I say in a soothing voice, using my free hand to rub between his shoulder blades. “Where are you going to?”
Sam’s Adam’s apple bobs up and down. “Ben’s gonna take care of me. He’s taken leave from his job for a few weeks. He’s found us a bigger place. I’ll be moving in with him.”
I let out a huge sigh and grin.He’s in good hands. “That’s great.”
He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “The place is in Penrith, Janie.”
My heart pounds in my chest in protest. That’s a few hours away.What does this mean for us?“B-but why wouldn’t you stay in Willow Creek? I mean, you both seem to love it here, right?”
“I wish it were up to me, but it’s not. Ben tried to get somewhere closer, but it’s the medical support that’s the issue. So, Ben had to look elsewhere and besides that, he needs to be close to his work. I’m not happy about it, but what can I do? He’s doing everything he can to support us both.” Sam grips my hands tight.
Minutes and hours and days run through my mind.How long will it be before he leaves?“How much time have we got?”
“A week,” he chokes out. “Need to be gone by next Friday.”
A measly seven days?“Shit,” I mutter under my breath. My head drops. I focus on our joined hands. Holding hands with someone is such a simple act, yet for Sam it causes pain. Yet here he is, gripping a hold of me.
Don’t let go.
“I’m not ready,” I whisper, unable to look at him.
Sam lifts my chin with his finger and rubs my jaw with the pad of his thumb. “Me either.”