She’s not like Samantha.
Silently, I go up the front steps and across the covered porch to lean in close to the door. I can hear the sound of my own music from inside—my first solo project, my first real attempt to fix something I’ve f**ked up to pieces since the “Sam Days”. Even though Sienna’s giving the song a chance and hearing me out, I can’t force myself to relax while I wait for it to end. Hell, my chest feels like I’ve swallowed a shot glass full of acid. I am not a stranger to pain—it’s all I feel whenever I see my ex, whenever I let her pull my strings—but I never expected the last five months to be this goddamn bad. This is different
But of course, I never expected to fall so damn hard for Sienna.
Inside the cabin, the music finally fades to silence—it’s so quiet that I’m able to hear her take in a deep breath. I know she’s waiting for more, just like I want her to, and I know that I’ve got to be the one to give her that. Face to face.
Even though I’ve played shows in front of thousands of people, I’m nervous as hell when I knock on the door.
She takes a long time to answer, and I almost feel like she’s not going to. Sienna’s smart, so there’s a good chance she already knows that I’m the one out here waiting for her. She knows that in my eyes, her not opening the door will be a bigger “Fuck you” than her saying the words directly to my face.
But at last, the door creeps open a couple inches, then a few more until I can see her face, and adrenaline compels me to finish the song I’d written for her. The song I’d purposely left unfinished, just so this one last piece could belong to just the two of us. Sinjin—my drummer—had called it a pu**y move but he could go f**k himself.
“Say that what happened isn’t it for us,” I breathe, running my hand along the curve of her face.
Sienna looks just as goddamn beautiful as she did the last time I saw her, when I left our hotel room in Atlanta. Except now, instead of a slinky dress I want to rip apart just to get to the center of her, she’s wearing tiny denim shorts that make her legs seem impossibly longer and a white tank top. Now, her red hair is pulled into a tight ponytail and not loose, the way I like it. The expression on her face is the same as it was when I left her last, though. Wide-eyed, afraid, and she’s sliding her teeth back and forth. I feel like a bastard for doing this to her.
“What are you doing here, Lucas?” she whispers, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and shrugging away from my touch.
I’m here to tell you that I’m so sorry. I want to say I love you.
Instead, I murmur in a rough voice, “You’ve got two days left.” Her mouth drops open, but she quickly closes it, swallows hard, and glares at me.
“You dismissed me.” She says it in a voice that makes me feel as if she’s think I’ve forgotten. If only she knew that the moment I sent her away from me is something that won’t ever leave my mind, no matter how many years pass or how many people come and go in my life. That moment had gone on my short list of regrets before I’d even reached the elevator outside of our hotel room.
She takes a step backward into the house, and I know that I’m losing this. Losing her. And this is something I can’t afford to do because I need her.
“You signed a contract,” I remind her. It’s a low move, one that causes her to shake her head in disbelief. Softening my tone, I add, “And, I’m a f**king idiot.”
Admitting I’m wrong helps, because not only does her wide blue gaze dart up to mine and a choked noise come from the back of her throat, she makes a hesitant move in my direction and then another.
One step backward and two steps forward.
I can deal with that happening if it means that she’ll eventually be close to me.
“I’m not going to give this up,” I tell her, curling my fingers around her wrist and yanking her to me. She smells so f**king good, like that apple body wash she’s used since before we first met. “I’m not going to give you up,” I repeat.
Because I’ll always want her.
Her lips part and a broad range of emotions pass over her face. Lust and anger, fear and pain. My chest constricts again because I’m fully aware that I’m responsible for all of those emotions, and most of them are not good. At last she releases a long exhale and hisses, “What you did hurt, Lucas. You wanted me to give myself to you just so you could tell me to screw off.”
But that’s not the case. I wanted her to give herself to me so I could keep her—I was just too selfish and wrapped up in being with her to remember that Sam refused to let me enjoy even an ounce of happiness. That my ex-wife’s threat of taking me down and Sienna along with me was so real
Sienna clears her throat, ripping my thoughts away from my Sam and back to her. “And now you want me again?” she demands, her voice breaking.
I tighten my grip around her because she’s trembling, but also because I am too. “I’ve always wanted you. It just took me awhile to tell the shit holding me back to f**k off.”
“Sam?”
I nod. And when I’d told Sam that she was holding me back from living, she’d calmly agreed to back off—as long as I agreed to renegotiate the amount of money I poured into her accounts each month. Still, I decide to prepare Sienna for the worst because I know it’s just a matter of time before Sam’s calm façade disappears, giving way to her erratic demands and who knows what else.
I dip my face down until my nose touches the tip of Sienna’s, which is damp from her tears. “If you’re with me, she’ll try to ruin me. She’ll try to ruin you because she knows I love you. You’ve got to know that. You’ve got to know what she has on me—”