Page 34 of For Sam

No.

No. I clench my fist to ground myself. She isn’t waiting for someone else. Sam isn’t Maisy for fuck’s sake. She’s not already seeing someone.

There’s a reasonable explanation for this.

Trust her.

I open the door while taking a deep breath to try to reset myself and I’m enveloped by the smell of her perfume. It’s not overwhelming, but it gives my heart a different reason for beating as fast as it is.

Quickly stepping out of my boots and walking to her room, I’m about to tell her that it’s me, because I’m not sure what’s actually going on, when she says, “I can’t thank you enough. Tommy’s going to be here soon and these hit out of the blue.”

I’m in her bedroom doorway in two strides and at her side in three more. She’s curled completely in a ball around a pillow on top of her bed with her eyes shut tight in pain.

“What’s wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital?” I ask, looking for injuries and afraid to touch her in case I aggravate something. I swear under my breath as she lets out a groan that sounds suspiciously like the word no.

“Sam, what’s wrong?” I try again.

“No, no, no.” Her eyes stay closed so tightly that her nose scrunches up. “You aren’t supposed to be here yet. You aren’t supposed to see me like this.”

“What do you mean like this?” I ask, panic building that something’s terribly wrong. “Sam, I’m about five seconds from scooping you up, putting you in my truck, and taking you to the hospital.”

Her eyes fly open and it’s clear she’s cried recently. A primal-like rage fills my chest, something that’s so unlike me. If someone made her hurt like this, I’m ready to throw them into a wall.

“Oh my goodness, no! This is mortifying.”

I fall to my knees in front of her, putting my hand on hers, which are holding the end of the pillow in a death-grip. “Please tell me what’s going on.”

Another groan escapes her. “They’re only this bad about once a year and I have meds, but I forgot to get more when I moved.”

My thumb traces a small path on the back of her hand as I wait.

“This is so embarrassing,” she whispers, still clearly in pain. “It’s cramps.”

Her eyes close again, and this time not from pain.

“Hey,” I say, gently. “No hiding, remember?”

One eye opens and she must see something reassuring. The murderous feeling in me has subsided and my gears are already turning.

“I may have four brothers, but my two oldest friends in the world get cramps. And even if they didn’t, there’s nothing embarrassing about them.”

“Of course that’s what you’d say,” she says, her facial expression softening before scrunching up again. “I’m ruining our date.”

“You most certainly are not. In fact, I heard that Maybel’s is booked for a bachelorette party.”

“It was not,” she says, attempting a smile.

“Okay, maybe not, but let me get you settled and then give me twenty minutes in your kitchen.” I stand up and look around, already making lists in my head. “Do you have a heating pad?”

“I have a hot water bottle.”

Of course she would have something a grandmother would keep on hand. God, I want to kiss this woman so badly.

“Where is it?” I ask.

She starts to uncurl herself from the pillow, wincing. I put my hand on her hip. “Just tell me where to get it.”

“The cupboard in the bathroom on the top shelf.”