His Greatest Redemption [REUPLOADED]

60

Spade

Over the years, I'd quickly learned that sleep was a talent. One I wasn't fucking good at, to be specific. I had too much on my mind to sleep, and so when I laid down at night and shut my eyes, I was thinking about everything but. My head was like an angry storm, never ending and too chaotic for my own good. And yet, with Sam in my bed every night, I was balanced. Fucking peaceful.

She was the calm I didn't know I needed— that I didn't even know I wanted. When her head would fall against my chest and she'd sprawl her fingers out across my stomach, teasing the muscle before my v-line, and she'd press her warm body against mine until not even an inch of space was left between us as and her scent was the only thing my senses were focused on, I realized she was the only calm I'd ever had in my life.

She was my planet, my gravity in this fucking world.

And she was mine. All fucking mine.

Rolling out of bed, I swept my jeans up from the floor and plucked my phone from out of one of the pockets. As soon as my jeans dropped to the floor again, a call came in from Nico. I stood up, grabbed my shirt, and walked into the bathroom before hitting answer.

"It's 7:00 in the fucking morning." I grumbled, closing the door behind me.

"Are you ready?" He asked after a brief moment, changing the subject.

I leaned on the counter as I pulled my shirt on. I forgot that I agreed to letting the girls train with us today. The girls being Sam, Dove, and that blue headed friend of theirs. I didn't ask Nico why he had insisted she be there, mainly because I didn't give a fuck, but also because I knew it would make Sam more comfortable.

"No." I answered, pulling my toothbrush out of the place holder Sam put there. She had completely reorganized majority of my shit, starting with my sink drawers that were now full of hair and face products that were stacked from smallest to biggest.

Did I like it? No, not necessarily.

But did I object? Hell no. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted as long as it kept her from having an attitude with me.

There were times in life when you battled with yourself. I'd been doing that more than a little lately. And not because of anything serious, but because of the mere fact that never in my life have I gone out of my way to make sure someone else stayed happy, or more so, less pissed off with me. I didn't— still don't, give a fuck whether or not someone decides they want to be mad about something I've done, hell, some people say there wasn't an ounce of repentance in me.

But that shit obviously wasn't true because I found myself nearly losing my fucking mind when Sam decided she wanted to ignore me. I was pretty much like a blind motherfucker trying to drive a vehicle when it came to feelings, but I wasn't stupid.

She was more than a little pissed, and I made her cry. It wasn't intentional. That wasn't my first or second time being shot, and so of course no one fucking panicked. I didn't think she would, either. But I recognized that look of pure, unsettling fear as she watched me bleed out in that living room. Sam wasn't afraid of anything, not even death itself, so the fact that she was like that, over me, shook me in a way I didn't necessarily want to entertain. I didn't like it, especially coming from her. It was the reason why I tried to make the situation seem even less than it really was, because I didn't want her scared, but somehow, I ended up pissing her off and scaring her at the same time.