Page 306 of The Havenport Collection

Sam

M y mouth was dry, and the fluorescent lights burned my eyes as I attempted to reach the cup of water on the bedside table.

“Here,” my mother said, holding the straw to my lips so I could drink.

I lay back against the pillow, ignoring the searing pain in my shoulder. Before I could even process what was happening, a team of nurses came in to check my drains and change out the IV bag.

My mother fussed over me, kissing the top of my head.

I vaguely remembered her doing that a lot over the past few days—kissing and hugging me and quietly crying in a nearby chair.

I was still foggy, but the massive dressing across my chest was a constant reminder of what I had lost, and what I had almost lost. Mainly, my life.

When the incision site started to burn and the dizziness and nausea set in, the doctors sprang into action, probably saving my life.

“What day is it?” I asked my mom who was wiping tears off her cheeks.

“Friday,” she replied.

My surgery had been on Tuesday. That meant I had been in and out of consciousness, fighting this thing, for more than two days.

I sat in disbelief as my mother explained that what they had thought was some post-op inflammation turned out to be a full-blown staph infection, requiring a follow-up surgical procedure and nuclear-grade antibiotics.

I turned to the nurses. “Can I speak to Dr. Larsen, please?”

“She’s in surgery but will be doing her rounds later today. She has asked us for hourly updates on your condition.”

I nodded, satisfied that I could talk to Grace and figure out what the hell had happened.

In my infection-induced fugue state, I had a lot of time to think, mainly about my own mortality.

I’d had months to prepare for the mastectomy. I had a team of doctors and a mentor and friends and family to mentally prepare me for my cancer battle. And I knew, at stage 2B, my odds were excellent if treated early.

But I was not prepared for this—for everything to change in the blink of an eye. Because the surgery had been successful. According to Grace, it was “textbook” and there was no evidence that the cancer had spread to my lymph nodes. I was looking at a long recovery, but a full one.

But just as I was allowing myself one moment of optimism for the future, I was hit by the bacterial lightning strike. And now, days later, I was just emerging.

“The daily blood work shows that the infection is weakening, sweetie. You are doing great.”

I didn’t feel great. I felt like all kinds of shit. Because the one thing I could not stop thinking about was Gio.

How if I died, I would never get to tell him how I felt. While delirious with fever, I ached for him, ached to tell him everything. To be fearless and bold, in a way that I never had before.

And it was becoming clear that it was time.

“Can I take a shower?” I asked one of the nurses.

She shook her head. “No. Not yet. We are cleaning and checking your dressings multiple times a day, and we did give you a sponge bath yesterday.”

I shuddered, so humiliated by the loss of my independence. “Thanks,” I said.

As soon as they left I turned to my mom. “I need to talk to Gio, Mom. And I can’t looking like this.”

She smiled at me. “I have dry shampoo and some baby wipes.”

I laughed. It wasn’t perfect but it would have to do.

Gio arrived in my room, clutching balloons and bearing videos of Xena to cheer me up. Apparently she was living her best life on the farm, chasing the chickens and stealing bread from the farm store.

He looked handsome, but disheveled. “What happened to you?” I asked. “I thought I was the one who almost died.”

He frowned at me, clearly not okay with my jokes. “I haven’t left here since Wednesday. There is nothing that would take me away from you. I am here, Sam. And I’m not leaving.”

My heart clenched for this beautiful man and his beautiful soul.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

His face looked pained. “Yes, I did. I told you I would never leave. And I won’t.”

His words hung in the air between us. And I knew it was time to be brave and bold.

I patted the bed. “Can you sit?”

He perched next to me, afraid to disturb the tubes and cords wound around me.

“Thank you,” I whispered, looking into his dark eyes. “Thank you for everything.”

“You don’t need to thank me. I didn’t save your life. The doctors did.”

“But you were here. And you took care of my mom. She said you were amazing, and you brought the entire town with you.”

He grinned. “You know Havenport. They can’t stay away. We’ve had a rotating cast of characters in that waiting room. Everyone was here to cheer up your mom and lend a hand in any way they could. It’s been exhausting but also pretty awesome.”

I reached out and clasped his hand, reveling in the feel of his strength. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I stared at him. The person who challenged me and pushed me and made me better every day. How could I ever be good enough for him?

“Gio,” I said, hesitating. “I need to say something.”

His jaw clenched as he looked at me, clearly bracing for impact.

“The night before my surgery, you told me you loved me. And I was too scared to say it back.”

His eyes widened, and I felt his grip on my hand tighten.

“Being here and experiencing this, I can’t go one more minute without telling you that I love you. And I’m so sorry I didn’t say it sooner. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that night we first kissed on the boardwalk.”

“Sam.”

“No. Let me finish. It all just snuck up on me and scared the hell out of me. Because I’ve always loved you. Since I was a little kid. But it was only recently that I fell in love with you. And that was scarier than facing cancer.

“So I pushed you away and tried to ignore the intimacy that was building between us. I ignored my own feelings, thinking I was sparing you. But I wasn’t. If anything, I was being stubborn and unreasonable, and I’m so fucking sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. Neither of us expected this.” He carefully wrapped his arm around me, pulling me close.

“I do. I was stubborn and wrong. And now I’ve got a life-threatening infection and I’m just realizing how dumb I’ve been.

I shouldn’t have pushed you away. I should have embraced you and this crazy town and hung on for dear life.

I don’t deserve you, Gio,” I sobbed into his chest. “You never gave up, and you never doubted me.”

“Because I knew, Sam. I knew you were the one. And our summer together just confirmed it. For so many years, I wondered what was missing. I had a good job, a home, my family. A good life. And yet, something was missing. There was an ache—I couldn’t identify it or understand it.”

I nodded. I had felt the ache too.

“But the minute you kissed me it went away. You are the missing piece, Sam. You always have been. And I don’t care that it took us decades to get here. It was worth it. The journey was worth it.”

I held my breath, wanting to bottle these words and keep them forever.

“I’ll go anywhere, and I’ll do anything to be with you. You want to move to DC? I’m there. You want to go start a nonprofit on the other side of the world? I’ll be by your side.”

“It’s going to be a long road. I still need reconstruction and everything else. I can’t promise you anything right now.”

“I don’t need anything from you, Sam. Just tell me you are mine and I’m yours, and the rest of it we will make up as we go along.”

“I’m yours, Gio. Now and forever.”