"Alright Mr. Kacey. Spill it. Who was that guy, why was he here and what did he want? We'll get to my questions about you in a minute." She ran a hand through her hair and hoped she sounded a little more stable than she felt. She sat down on the other arm of the couch, propping her feet on the springs so she could face him.
"His name was Ellington and he was here to kill you. But it's my fault." He looked up and there was such sadness in his big brown eyes that it was all Sam could do not to hop across the couch and throw an arm around him.
"Why would anybody want to kill me?"
"Because they thought it was the best way to punish me." He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands on his black jeans.
That was when Sam noticed the thin trail of blood that ran down his right arm. His silk shirt had been ripped from shoulder to wrist and a long thin gash was welling up. Her heart skipped a beat. "Riley Joseph Kacey, why didn't you tell me you were hurt." She growled at him and jumped up from the couch. She turned to take the ten steps over to her bedside table and get her small first aid kit out of the drawer.
He stopped her by catching her good wrist with his left hand. "I'll be fine. It's just a scratch."
"No, just a scratch is what Sheba gave me. That is a real wound that needs cleaning at the very least." She wrenched her arm loose and walked over to the bedside table. She pulled the kit out and turned back to him. "Can you take off your shirt?"
"I thought I'd never hear you say something like that again." He grinned and began unbuttoning the torn shirt with his left hand.
Sam pulled the end table up from where it lay against the far wall and set it up right in front of the couch. She laid the kit down on the table and reach out to help him with what was left of the shirt.
Ignoring his words for fear of saying something scathing, she pushed the shirt off of his shoulders. Careful not to move his right arm too much.
He groaned as she pulled the sleeve away from his wrist. "I'm sorry." She muttered through clenched teeth. She was trying very hard to maintain some shred of control over her sanity. Being so close to him hurt or not, was definitely not helping.
She remembered all too well the feel of those strongly muscled arms under her fingers. It didn't matter how many years had passed. Some things you just don't forget.
She tried changing the subject for her own sake. "Why would it punish you to hurt me? And who are 'They'?" She pulled the antibiotic spray from the kit and sprayed his arm generously with it. He winced but didn't make a sound.
"Did he have a knife?" The wound wasn't very deep but it was a very clean cut. She patted it dry with another gauze pad. Then began opening a roll of sterile gauze. "It looks like it's not deep enough for stitches, but I'm going to wrap it anyway. At least until the bleeding stops." She knew she was rambling because she was so nervous. But she couldn't help it.
"No, I think he picked up a piece of the door. It all happened so fast." He looked like he wanted to say more. Instead he reached out and wrapped a lock of her hair around his left hand. "I'm so glad you never cut your hair." He gave it a little tug and let it go.
Sam made a mental note to cut it all off as soon as she could. She tied the gauze tight against the wound and stood back to admire her "field dressing" skills. Instead she locked eyes with Riley. And her heart did that skippy thing it always had when he looked at her like that. Like she was either the most precious thing in the world, or a fresh kill in front of a hungry leopard.
"Will you please stop looking at me like that? Sheesh!" She made a poor attempt at feigned anger to hide her melting insides.
"Like what Sweetheart?" He was grinning again. The cad had figured out he was getting under her skin. And he was enjoying it. Yup. Definitely a fresh kill in front of a hungry leopard.
"Don't you 'sweetheart' me. You gave up the right to call me that 10 years ago." This time the anger in her voice was real. So were the tears she was trying desperately to fight back. She turned away and made a big deal of putting everything back in the kit.
"For what it's worth. I am sorry Samantha. I never meant to hurt you." The pain in his voice sounded so sincere. She wished she could believe it. She wanted so bad to believe him. And at the same time, it was easier to believe that he was a black hearted ass who never cared about anybody but himself. At least that was what she had told herself over and over for the last 10 years. Each brick in the wall around her heart was engraved with it.
"Save it Riley. It was a long time ago. I'm a big girl now. Not some 17 year old kid who will fall for that Han Solo smile and those big brown eyes again." Now, if she could only convince herself of that, she'd be OK. Because right now, she wasn't so sure.
"Fine. So be it." He didn't seem convinced, more like "humoring the madwoman." But she let it go. For now. "I'll answer your questions." he reached down with his good arm and dragged a couch cushion over to throw up on the springs. He slid down the arm and leaned against the corner of the couch. Sam did the same, so they sat facing each other like general's on the battle field. Neither side willing to yield.
"It goes all the way back to when I left you. I can't tell you about what happened tonight without telling you why I left back then." A shadow passed across his face and was gone. Sam was too busy wrestling her own memories to see it.
"I want to make something very clear to you Sam." He leaned forward. "Look at me." His voice dropped to that silky tone, somewhere between warm chocolate in July and hot cocoa with extra marshmallows in December. "I didn't leave because I wanted to. I left because I was forced to. If I had had my choice, my life, your life, would have been very different."
That shadow was back in his eyes again. This time Sam saw it. And it made her heart flip. Her chest tightened and she lifted her hand without thinking. She caught herself just short of crossing the couch and pushed herself firmly against the cushions. Her arms folded tightly across her chest.
She couldn't believe she was sitting here having this conversation. Her flat looked like a tornado had hit it. The cat was softly mewling to be let out of her cage. And the only man she had ever loved was telling her that the last 10 years of pain, anger, and finally feeling nothing because she'd walled herself in so high nobody got through, was all for nothing. She didn't know whether to cry, or go back in the kitchen and get that knife out of the sink.
"What was so important that you had to leave without a word? Not one word in explanation. I would have settled for a note. Something. Not to have some relative tell me that you weren't coming back and could I please not call or try to contact you." This time the tears rose to the surface faster than she could push them down again. They spilled over and ran down her cheeks. She brushed them away with the back of her hand.
Riley ignored her squeak of protest and his own injured arm to pull her across the couch and onto his lap. He wrapped his good arm around her as she buried her head against his chest.
Sam gave in to the tears. Between the events of tonight and the pain of 10 years of trying to pretend that she had ever stopped loving him, she couldn't fight them anymore.
She wasn't sure how long she laid there. Even after the tears dried. Completely unwilling to move for fear that she would wake up in her bed across the room and find that it was all a dream / nightmare. It really didn't matter which one it was. For just a moment she could lay here and pretend.
She rubbed her cheek against his chest remembering / loving the feel of his warm skin against hers. Even his scent hadn't changed. Like rainy summer nights, he always smelled warm and clean.
Riley wrapped her hair around his arm and pulled her head back. She looked up and was surprised to see tears shining in his eyes. “I missed you too Sweetheart." He smiled and let go of her hair.
Sam rocked back onto her knees as he dropped his right foot to the floor to make room for her on the couch. Sam's eyes widened as she saw the evidence of how much he'd missed her straining against his tight black jeans. She narrowed her eyes at him and he had the good sense to give her a guilty grin. Though it looked more "wolfish" than repentant. She accepted it anyway and left the couch to check on Sheba.
Said feline had given up her queenly protests at such treatment and was sound asleep, with her back to the cage door, snoring softly. Sam decided just to leave her in there for now. Since she was unsure what else might happen tonight.
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