Keeping the Bad Boy

Chapter 33

I bolt upright, clutching the sheets to my bare chest. I meet my mother's terrified, angry eyes as she screams so loud I fear for the safety of my eardrums. I watch as my father appears behind her and all the color fades from his face. Leaving his mouth a gaping hole in a sea of white. I glance down at Sam's still sleeping form. How, I wonder, how can you be sleeping through this? When my mom finally stops screaming and some blood returns to my father's face, I open my mouth to speak. "You weren't supposed to be home this early," I say quietly, but my voice makes Sam groan, stir, and slowly open his eyes. My mom's eyes go to him and watch him as he rubs his eyes and sits up. Her eyes widen and my father takes a step back. He meets my gaze and his expression looked like he had been punched in the stomach. His eyes seemed to say, him of all people. "Get your ass out of that bed and downstairs right now, Courtney Louise Taylor!" my mom screams and points toward the stairs. I look at Sam who runs a hand through his hair, his eyes wide. My mother storms off but my father remains in the doorway. Sam had put his plaid boxers back on last night, so he just climbs out of my bed and bends over to pull his jeans on. My father's eyes follow him, studying his movements like a cat about to pounce on a mouse. His eyebrows furrow together as his eyes come to rest on the scar along his bare back. Sam turns around, searching the floor for his shirt. He looks up and meets my father's steady stare. Sam stalks over to him-still shirtless-and extends his hand. "I'm Sam McGraw. Nice to meet you," he says as my father reluctantly takes Sam's hand and shakes it. Sam smiles a shy, charming smile and goes back to his shirt search. My father turns to leave, then says over his shoulder, "I'm Mark."

After we're dressed we meander downstairs and see my parents sitting on the couch, talking in harsh, hushed tones. They don't notice so Sam clears his throat and stands a little taller. "Sit down guys," my father says and Sam and I just look at each other. Sam shifts his weight from one foot to the other. "Actually, I really need to go. I missed a call from my brother this morning, but he left a message saying that my mom got in a car wreck so-" My father stands and holds up a hand to stop him. Sam and my father looked the same height with Sam in his half-inch boots. Sam tilted his head back slightly-as I had sen his brother do before when someone got in his face. It made him look scary, terrifying even. There was a circular scar directly under his chin that I had never noticed before. Apparently my father saw it because he narrowed his eyes at it. He quickly reached out to touch it but Sam caught his wrist and met is eyes. "Don't...touch...me," he hissed through clenched teeth. "How did you get that scar under your chin?" my father asked as if Sam hadn't said anything. Sam threw my father's hand down. "Is that any of your business? Neither of you even like me, why should I tell you anything?" My father's eyes scanned Sam's face for what I wasn't sure. "I tried not to judge you by them because my daughter saw something better in you. She's a teenage girl though, blindsided by your looks, strength, and mysteriousness. I can see straight through all that bullshit. Under this pretty skin, you're just like him aren't you?" my father said, staring straight into Sam's eyes. Last night, they were glowing so bright they were like the sun was rises behind them. Now, they were a dull color but anger flashed within them. "Like who, may I ask?" he says coolly. "I was a police officer for many years before I retired last year. I was tired of seeing all the grotesqueness this town could offer, though much of it came directly from your own family. I would much rather get rid of you then have to clean my daughter's brains off of a tree in the backyard." I expected him to snap. I expected my father to have to fight him. But it was just the opposite. Sam, who hated to touch people, wrapped his arms around my father. He pulled away. "I was beginning to wonder if you would remember me for something more than that. I remember you, though. You're the one that drug us from that bathroom. You're the one that drove us to the orphanage. You're the one that that told them not to separate me and my brother. I looked up to you for so many years. My brother threw a knife at you when you wouldn't let me carry my own violin. I cried because you said we would get our stuff later, but I wanted my violin," Sam said, edging toward the door. My father nods and pulls up his sleeve, revealing a small scar on the edge of his bicep. "Yeah, Ryder almost got my arm too. But I also remember you punching me in the face when I tried to keep you away from the ambulance that Ryder was being taken to the hospital in." Sam opens the door, allowing a rush of cold air to blow into the house. "I'm glad this meeting wasn't as bad as our usual ones, Mark," Sam said and took off running at full speed to his bike and before I could think, so was I. He beat me there and I could hear my parents footsteps and their yelling behind me. I had barely jumped on when he took off at full speed. I nearly fell off. I wrap my arms around him and cry silently all the way to the hospital.

When we reach the hospital, Ryder is pacing back and forth in the waiting room. He sees Sam and jogs over to him. "She's still unconscious. She broke her arm and hit her head pretty hard," he says. Ryder glaces down at me and smiles. I wrap my arms around him and whisper, "It's going to be okay." He squeezes me back and I pull away. I hear someone call my name and turn around. My parents are walking toward us. I quickly take Sam's hand and squeeze it. He squeezes right back. "You're coming with us, young lady! This heartless kid doesn't need you here!" my mother yells. I squeeze Sam's hand tighter as my father grabs my wrist to pull me away. Sam's arm tenses and I know he's not letting me go anywhere. Ryder stands between Sam and I and looks Sam in the eye. "Let...go...of...her...Samuel," he growls. "NO!" Sam yells so loud everyone in the hospital looks at him. Ryder puts a hand on Sam's wrist and one in the middle of his chest. "Now," he hisses. Sam's brow furrows as he glances between me and his brother. I begin to cry as I feel his grip slowly begin to loosen. "No," I whisper. Sam looks down at the ground as he drops my hand and he is encircled by his brother's arms. Ryder turns him around, an arm around his shoulders, leading him away. "Sam!" I cry, but my father pulls me out the door. I see Sam glance back at me over his shoulder before the door shuts, closing us off from each other.

I got grounded for that stunt, but I never said sorry. I could tell that my mother expected an apology, but I wasn't going to give her one, not when I wasn't sorry for anything that had happened. Whenever I went back to school Monday, Sam wasn't there. It's been a week since that morning at the hospital and Sam has vanished. Nobody has seen him anywhere and he's never at school. My parents took my phone away-obviously-so it's not like I can call him. I miss him so much. I don't know what happened to him.