Courage by Kristen Proby

Chapter 3

~Natasha~

Sam’s hands grip my ass, those strong fingertips pressing firmly into the flesh beneath the denim of my jeans, and everything in me goes soft and just plain…wanton.

I’m crazy. I just straddled Sam as if I do it every day.

I’d like to do it every day.

I’ve wanted him for as long as I can remember, damn it, and he literally just admitted that he wants me, too.

So why shouldn’t I get a little forward and enjoy him? Push some of the doubt, sadness, and goddamn fear out of my mind—if only for a little while.

“You’re so fucking sweet,” he whispers, and that’s all it takes for my lips to descend on his. His hands grip me tighter as I wrap my arms around his shoulders and sink into him. And that’s exactly what it feels like: a slow, delicious sinking into something so soft, warm, tender, and familiar that it tugs at my heart and turns me on all at the same time.

I move to push my hand through his messy blond hair, but my hand suddenly sings out in pain, making me gasp.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, gasping for breath himself.

“Ouch.” I frown as reality starts to settle in. “Damn hand.”

“What the hell is wrong with me?” He doesn’t nudge me off his lap, he simply lifts me, shifting until I’m cradled on his lap, my head resting on his shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.” I grin and shift my gaze from my throbbing hand to Sam’s bright blue gaze. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for my whole life. And just like you said a little bit ago, it has nothing at all to do with the situation we presently find ourselves in. I just thought you weren’t interested.”

“I don’t want to hurt your feelings,” he admits with a sigh.

I raise a brow. “But?”

“It’s not that I’ve never been interested in you,” he begins and pauses to kiss my forehead. “But you were my baby sister’s best friend. Significantly younger than me. It would have been damn creepy if I’d been into you.”

“I’m not a baby now.”

“No. You’re a grown woman. And trust me, I’ve noticed. But I’m not going to scoop you up and haul you off to bed when you’re injured.”

“It’s only my hand,” I remind him. “It’s not my vagina.”

He snorts. “Well, I’m relieved to hear that, but you’re still uncomfortable. And the kids are here.”

“Yeah, I can’t argue that point.” I let myself lean on him, just for a minute. Sam’s always been tall and lean. He’s only started to pack on the muscles over the past couple of years. He trained hard for his place in the fire department.

The hot body is a bonus.

“Can I interest you in a date?” he asks, surprising me.

“What kind of date?”

“A real one.” He chuckles. “Noah offered to watch the kids. They’ll have fun at the sanctuary, and I can take you out for a meal that you don’t have to cook. With no one around that you have to cut up food for.”

“I mean, if you need help, I’ve become quite the food chopper recently.”

His lips twitch. “What do you say?”

“Sure.” I nod and lean on him again. “I’d like that. Thanks for asking me.”

“Thanks for saying yes.”

“Auntie Tash?”

I sigh and glance over to where Kelsey is standing by the hallway.

“Yes, baby?”

“I had a bad dream.” Her big blue eyes, so much like Sam’s, well with big crocodile tears, and I open my arms for her to come sit with us.

“Come on, sweetie. Come sit with us. It’s okay.”

“Did you have a bad dream, too?” she asks me once she’s settled on both of our laps.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because Uncle Sam is holding you like you had a bad dream.”

“Oh.” I smile and brush her soft blond hair off her cheek. “No. We were just talking, and I needed a cuddle. What was your bad dream about?”

She nuzzles closer to me and tucks her head under my chin, but she doesn’t answer me. I let her sit for a long moment and then kiss her sweet little head.

“Don’t want to talk about it?”

She shakes her head.

“Is it the same one you’ve been having?”

She nods.

“I’m sorry, honey. We can snuggle until you’re ready to go back to bed.”

“Can I sleep wif you?”

She turns those big eyes up to me. I know I’m being had. She’s laying it on thick.

But how can anyone ever say no to that face?

“You sleep better in your bed,” I remind her. “But I guess you can sleep in mine.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go. I’ll tuck you in, and then I’m going to talk to Uncle Sam some more.”

She hops off my bed and happily jogs down the hall to my bedroom.

“Sorry,” I mutter as I slide off Sam’s lap. “You don’t have to stay. It’s getting late.”

“I can stay until after she’s in bed,” he offers. “I’ll tuck her in.”

He stands and kisses me on the forehead, then walks past me and down the hall.

I hear the murmur of his voice, although I can’t hear what he says as he tucks his niece into my bed.

I curl up in the corner of the couch again and wince as I hug my injured hand to my chest.

It aches like a son of a bitch. I hope it heals quickly because there’s no way I can do everything that needs to be done with it injured like this. I have laundry to do, dishes to wash, bathrooms to clean, and a million other chores that require both hands.

“Why are you scowling?” Sam asks when he returns.

“Oh, I’m just brooding. I guess it’s good that I’m not working right now. There’s no way I could do nails with my hand like this.”

“Are you going to be okay?”

“Of course. It’ll heal. I’ll make do. The kids will just have to help me a little more than usual, but I’ll make it a game for them. It’ll be fine.”

“Should I stay here for a few days until the worst of it is over?” he asks as he sits next to me. “It’s not a problem.”

“I had to stash all of my nail stuff in the third bedroom,” I reply, shaking my head. “It’s packed full because I literally just threw it all in there since the twins wanted to share a room, and—”

“Take a breath,” he suggests with a laugh. “I’m fine on the couch. Trust me, I’ve slept on far worse.”

“Aren’t you working this week?”

“On call,” he says with a shrug. “If I get called, I’ll go. I don’t have to sit at the station twenty-four-seven. It’ll just be for a few days, while you heal up a bit.”

“If you’re offering, I’m accepting. But please don’t feel like you have to.”

“I rarely do anything I don’t want to do,” he says. “I’ll go home tonight, grab a few things, and come back tomorrow morning.”

“Oh, good. Because tomorrow is the first day of… well, shit.”

“First day of kindergarten.”

“How did I forget? Crap, Sam. I have to get some things done tonight. Monica bought these little chalkboards to write in cute things for first-day pictures. I need to make sure their new outfits are washed and ready, and I have to make their lunches.”

“Okay, change of plans. I’ll head home and grab some stuff and then come back here to help you.”

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Sure, I do. It’s their first day of school.” He winks and grabs his keys. “I’ll be back in an hour.”

* * *

By the timeSam makes it back to my house, all I’ve managed to do is set out the kids’ clothes for the morning. Thank God, I washed them last week.

“How’s it going?” he asks when he walks in.

“I’m moving slow,” I admit. “This stupid hand aches like crazy.”

“Take some of the damn medicine.”

His voice is firm and leaves no room for argument.

“I’m here. If anything happens and you’re out cold, it’s handled. Take it, Tash.”

“Yeah, okay.” I don’t even bother arguing because I know he’s right, and I’m in a decent amount of pain.

“Just point and tell me what to do. I’m pretty handy.”

He waits as I swallow the pill with a glass of water and then open the fridge.

“Okay, I was just going to make them sandwiches and slice up some apples. I have these little individual peanut butter cups for them to dip their apples in.” Sam and I get to work building their lunches. I do a lot of pointing and doling out instructions, and he moves quickly, keeping up with me easily.

Once the bags are packed, Sam opens a little bag of Cheetos and digs in.

“Those are for the kids,” I remind him.

“Quality control,” he says with a wink and munches happily. “Okay, now what?”

“I have these chalkboards,” I say and walk to the closet where I stowed them. “We have to fill in these blanks.”

“How do we know how tall they are?” he asks and blinks at me.

“I started measuring them,” I answer and show him the place on the pantry doorjamb where I’ve made marks with a pencil, noting the name and date next to it. “We’ll use the most recent one. They’ve grown more than an inch in the past couple of months.”

“They grow like weeds,” he says.

“We’ll have to fill out some of this in the morning because I forgot to ask them the questions. Like, what they want to be when they grow up.”

“You’ll have to write it. I have horrible chicken scratch.”

“My right hand is injured.”

“So?”

“I’m right-handed.”

His eyes go wide, and then he cringes. “Okay, we’ll make it work.”

I yawn and glance at the clock. “I think we have it handled. I’m going to bed. Let me grab you some linens for the couch. Actually, you can go home and just come back in the morning if you want.”

“I’ll sack out here. No sense going home for just a few hours, only to turn around and come back. Besides, I hate my rental. It’s full of wall-to-wall boxes between my stuff and Monica’s. It’s not homey like this.”

“I’m sorry.” I shake my head when he narrows his eyes at me. “I know, you don’t want or need my apology, but I’m sorry anyway. That you had to pass on the other job, right after you sold your house. And that you had to hurry up and rent something else. It’s just a big mess.”

“I didn’t pass on the job,” he says, surprising me.

“What? But you’re still here.”

“Of course, I am.” He runs his hand through his hair and pitches the empty chip bag into the trash. “Like you said, it’s been a mess. I don’t know what’s going to happen, or how it’ll all shake out, but they held the job for me for six months.”

“Oh.” I swallow the lump in my throat. I thought that with us co-parenting the kids, Sam would have passed on the job.

Does this mean he’ll take off in a few months to live a new life in Spokane, leaving me here with the kids?

He could.

And it sounds like he might.

“Like I said, I don’t know what’ll happen. But I didn’t want to close that door completely.”

“Sure.” I nod and offer him a fake smile. “I get it. I’m headed to bed. There are extra blankets and pillows in the hall linen closet.”

“Are you okay?”

“Of course. Just tired as always, these days. And the medicine is probably kicking in. I’ll see you in the morning.”

I hurry out of the kitchen and make a beeline for my bedroom. I never shut my door all the way because I want to be able to hear the kids.

But I want to tonight. I want to close it and have a good cry. If Sam leaves town for that job, I’ll lose one more person who means something to me. Maybe not permanently, but if he doesn’t live here, it won’t be the same.

It’s another thing to grieve.

And I’ve had my fill of grief—enough to last a decade.

It takes me longer than usual to change into a nightgown because of my sore hand, and when I finally get into bed, I discover that Kelsey has managed to angle herself over the entire King-sized mattress.

How that’s possible, I have no idea.

I nudge her over to the side and slip between the sheets. Thanks to the medicine, my eyes are heavy, and my brain is foggy. I’ve just turned over to drift off when a little arm slips around mine, and Kelsey rests her head against my shoulder.

“Night, Mama.”

My eyes open, and I stare at the ceiling for what feels like an hour.

I know she’s asleep and didn’t know what she was saying. She won’t remember it tomorrow.

But man, it breaks my heart.

I miss your mama, I think to myself. I miss her so very much.

* * *

“Shh,Uncle Sam said not to wake her up.”

“But we have to. We have to go to school.”

I wait just a heartbeat and then sit up really fast and yell, “Boo!”

The twins giggle, and Kevin jumps up onto the bed with me, bouncing a couple of times.

“You’re already dressed.” I frown at them both. “And your hair is combed.”

“Uncle Sam helped,” Kelsey says. “He said we should be quiet and let you sleep because of your hand. Does it still hurt?”

Like a bitch.

“Yeah, a little.”

“You didn’t follow orders,” Sam accuses as he marches into the room. “I turned my back for twenty seconds.”

“It’s okay.” I tousle my hair with my hands. “I have to get up. I don’t want to miss the first day of school.”

“We have donuts,” Kevin announces as he jumps off the bed. “I want another one!”

“That explains the energy level,” I say dryly as Kelsey follows her brother out of my room. “You took them for donuts?”

“No, I got up before everyone else, so I went and got a dozen. There’s plenty left for you, as long as we don’t leave the kids to their own devices for too long. I’ll let you get dressed into something more decent.”

I scowl and look down. “It’s a nightgown. I’m not showing anything.”

Sam rubs his hand over his lips and then leans in to whisper in my ear. “I can see your nipples pressed against the cotton of that thing. And it makes me want things, Tash, that aren’t appropriate with two five-year-olds waiting to go to school.”

Without another word or touch, he turns and leaves the room.

Leaving me all hot and bothered. Damn him.

“It’s just a simple cotton nightgown,” I grumble. “It’s not like I’m wearing something from Victoria’s Secret or anything.”

Still, I wiggle my way into leggings and a T-shirt with a blue flannel shirt over it, teasing my hair into a ponytail. I only wince a little when the motion makes my hand sing in protest.

“We’re ready for pictures,” Kevin announces, holding up his chalkboard. Every slot is filled in on both of them, and I turn my eyes to Sam.

“You filled them out.”

“Yeah,” he says with a nod. “I guess they didn’t come out too bad.”

“They look great.” The writing isn’t fancy like Monica’s would have been, but the letters are perfectly legible. I can tell he put a lot of effort into this. “Thanks.”

“Let’s go outside for some pictures,” Sam suggests.

The kids pose with their chalkboards on the porch, their little backpacks slung over their shoulders and wide smiles on their faces. I pose them together and separate.

And then we pile into the truck and head the short distance to the elementary school.

“We’ll be here to get you when you’re done,” I remind them as we walk hand-in-hand to their classroom. We visited last week so they could meet their teacher and see the room they’ll be in. We all thought it was a good idea for them to be in the same classroom this year as the twins tend to act out when they’re on their own.

“Okay,” Kevin says and doesn’t even bother to wave at us as he hurries off to see his friends.

“I don’t want to,” Kelsey says and turns to me with tears in her eyes. “I want to go with you.”

“You’ve been looking forward to school,” I remind her gently and squat next to her. “There’s your friend, Trinity. And Lucy. You know the other kids, Kels.”

She grabs my leg, but Mrs. Delgado hurries over with a wide, welcoming smile on her pretty face.

“Hi there, Kelsey. Welcome. I’m so excited you’re here. We’re going to have such a fun day.”

“I love you, and I’ll see you very soon.” I kiss her cheek, and Mrs. Delgado seamlessly takes the little girl’s hand and leads her away, giving me the nod to go.

Sam and I leave the classroom and walk out to his truck.

But when we climb inside, he doesn’t start the engine.

“It should be Monica,” I say and wipe away a tear. “Monica should be here to take her babies to school, take pictures, and fill out their chalkboards.”

“I know it.” Sam sighs. “But the thing is, Tash, she’s not. She’s not here. No matter how unfair it is. You can’t feel guilty every time there’s a new life event in the kids’ lives over the next thirty years because there will be dozens of them.”

“I know.” I wipe my nose on the handkerchief he offers me. “I know that. But, Jesus, Sam, it’s only been a few months. I’m still adjusting to this. Monica was excited for today. She prepared for it months ago. She should be here to see it. It pisses me off that she isn’t.”

“Me, too, honey. Me, too.” He kisses my hand. “Rich and my sister were good parents. They waited a long time to have kids, and they loved it. All we can do is make them proud of us. And of the kids.”

“Yeah.” I swallow the last of my tears. “You’re right. I think I need a donut.”

“Coming right up.”