Maybe more than the next guy. “And God.”
“Yeah, yeah, we know. Put your boots on.”
He pulled on his boots, grabbed his jacket, and refused to ask if Willow would be joining them.
But as they drove into town, him sitting on Gus’s bench seat, Maggy behind them, he couldn’t help but notice that the simmer in his chest only stirred to life.
If she was there, he’d . . . what? Apologize, yes. And then . . . He wanted to tell her that she was beautiful and smart and brave and that he’d been a coward—a problem he didn’t realize he’d had in spades until last weekend.
He’d meant what he said to Pete. He wasn’t going to live in darkness anymore. So, God, if you’re listening, please. Rescue me. Please help me put this thing between Willow and me back together.
They pulled up to the Summit and Sam got out, took a breath of crisp late-afternoon Saturday air. Maybe Willow would be inside and be willing to forgive him.
It couldn’t be that easy, of course, because when he walked in, Willow wasn’t at the long soda bar, wasn’t waiting tables.
Instead, Zena stood near the door to the party room. She waved at him, and he headed to the back, followed by Maggy and Gus.
Inside, three pizzas sat on elevated serving platters, pitchers of Coke all around. Josh and Ava sat at the head of the table, Josh looking better than he had last time Sam saw him, his nose bandaged.
“Surprise!” said Vi, who was sitting in a chair with her leg in a cast.
“He knew about it, Vi,” Gus said, letting go of Maggy’s hand. “We told him.”
“It was supposed to be a—oh, forget it. Where’s Willow?” Vi asked.
“She’s not at home.” This from Dawson, who came in with Riley, right behind Gus. “Jess said she left a couple hours ago with someone—she didn’t see who. A guy, she thought.”
Sam tried not to let Riley’s words find footing.
“I can’t get ahold of Quinn.” Bella came into the room, holding her cell phone. “It keeps ringing like it’s on but then goes to voice mail.” She slid onto a chair, bit her lip. “He was so mad after he left my parents’ house. I’m afraid he’s going to do something stupid. Like run away.”
That caught Sam’s attention. “What do you mean, so mad?”
“They still won’t let us talk to each other. Quinn stood outside on the stoop for a half hour trying to reason with my dad. He finally left. Now I can’t get ahold of him, and I’m worried. He wouldn’t do something stupid, would he?”
For a woman he loved? It seemed that a man couldn’t love a woman without doing something spectacularly stupid.
“Where could he have gone? My dad accused him of terrible things. Said Quinn had taken me up to the overlook to . . .” She made a face. “Quinn was so mad.”
“I just wish I could prove to him that I’m not the guy he thinks I am.”
“I know where he is,” Sam said before he could stop himself. Bella looked at him, surprise on her face.
“He was going to give you a necklace that night—but it got lost. I’ll bet he’s up at the overlook searching for it.”
As he watched, Bella’s expression turned white, her hand moving almost instinctively toward her bandaged arm.
Sam glanced at Gus, who nodded.
“Can I grab some pizza on my way out?” Gus reached for a napkin.
Sam was reaching for his phone when it came alive in his hand. He read the number.
And then he didn’t know what to think. “Willow?”
He could barely hear her; her voice cut into a whisper. “Sam?”
“Yeah, I’m here.” He closed his eyes.
Just hearing Willow’s voice allowed him to take a full, fresh breath. To calm the swirl inside. He turned away from the kids, toward the door. “I need to talk to you—”
“Sam—”
“I know I hurt you—”
“Sam—”
“—and I’m so sorry, I’ll never—”
“Sam!”
“—do it again, if you’ll just let me—what?”
He stopped talking when she took a deep, ragged breath.
“I’m with Quinn. We’re up at the pit—and we’re in trouble.”
That’s when he heard it—the guttural, feral growl reverberating through the phone.
He froze as he imagined Willow putting her hand over her mouth, maybe trying not to scream.
He was trying not to scream.
“Willow, stay where you are. Don’t move. I’m coming to you.”
Then he hung up, looked at Gus, and started moving toward the door. Pressed speed dial as he hit the street.