Rock with Me (With Me in Seattle, #4)(72)

“No, my brothers did that.” She responds, her eyes on fire. “You betrayed me.”

I stumble backward, as if she’d physically struck me.

“You know, for a smart woman, you can be unbelievably stupid.” Her eyes flash but I glare at her, shutting her up. “You want to talk this out? Fine, I’ll talk, and you’re going to listen to every motherf*cking word I say.”



Samantha



If he swears at me like that one more time, I swear to God I’m going to throw him out on his ass.

“Who the hell do you think you are to treat your family like that?” He plants his hands on his hips and pins me in a glare. “You have a family who adores you. Your brothers would do anything for you. Jesus, Sam, even the Montgomerys would kill for you.” He stomps away and begins pacing about my living room, his face tight with anger.

“Do you know what I would have given for just a moment of that when I was growing up?” He turns to face me and I feel all the blood drain from my head. “I would have crawled through fire to have such a big family that loved me. To have siblings to fight with and defend when someone else tried to f*ck with them. But do you know what I got instead?”

Oh, God, I don’t know if I want to know this. He begins to pace again, his eyes distant, and I realize that it’s not really me that he’s angry with.

He’s just angry.

“My folks died when I was twelve, and they didn’t have siblings, so there was no one to take me. Instead I was thrown into foster care. The first place wasn’t too bad, but they couldn’t keep me for long, so I kept getting shuffled about, from home to home, until I was about sixteen. Most of the homes were okay. Some of the dads liked to hit, which I learned to deal with.” He shrugs and goes to look out my window to the busy street below.

“What happened when you were sixteen?” I whisper, my stomach roiling in anger and pain and sheer horror.

“I woke up one night.” His voice is so low I can barely hear it, so I quietly inch closer. “And the man I lived with was on top of me, trying to get my pants off.”

Holy f*cking shit.

“I was always a tall kid, but by the time I was sixteen, I was strong too, and I fought the fat f*cker off of me. Blackened his eye.” He braces his forehead against the glass, lost in the horrific memories running through his head. “I woke up like that, almost every night for a week. He just wouldn’t give up. It got to where I would fight sleep, doing everything in my power to stay awake and sleep during class in the day time, but I would inevitably fall asleep.”

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Then they brought in this other kid, a few years younger than me, named Tom. He was weaker than me. He had the bed next to mine.”

“Oh, God,” I whisper, my hand over my mouth.

“Yeah, he wasn’t as lucky,” he whispers. “But worse than that, Meg came along.”

“Don’t tell me…”

“No, the bastard preferred young boys, but I made it my mission in life to protect her and make sure that no one ever touched her like that.” He turns to me, his face carefully void of any emotion at all. His balled hands are at his sides, and every muscle in his body is clenched. “That’s what family does, Samantha. They protect each other. Instead of you giving your brothers, your parents, your friends the opportunity to help you, you shut them out.”

“I don’t need their charity,” I begin but his face hardens once again and I cringe. “That’s not what I mean. I don’t want them to feel obligated to help me.”

“They don’t feel obligated. They feel love, damn it!”

“I don’t deserve it!” I yell back at him. “I’ve never done anything to deserve to be in this family, with all of these wonderful, beautiful people.”

“What are you talking about?” He asks, his face completely confused.

“I’m not anyone special. I don’t have any amazing talents, I don’t make a ton of money, I’m not even a very nice person. The only thing I have is famous family members.” I shake my head and move across the room, my back to him. “Do you know that aside from family and people I’m related to by marriage I don’t have one person that I consider my friend? Not one. And that’s not a coincidence.” I turn back to him. He’s watching me like I’ve gone crazy.

He could be right.

“Why?” He asks.

“Because someone always wants something from me, Leo. In high school, they wanted to get close to Luke or Mark, so they’d pretend to be my friend so they could hang out at our house and try to get glimpses of them. When Luke got famous, it intensified by a thousand. Hell, a million.” I laugh ruefully. “I finally got smart and separated myself from it, found a career I like and am good at, and even that f*cked me over.”

I brace my head in my hands, rubbing my forehead with my fingertips. “I learned a long time ago to look out for myself, and not depend on others to take care of me. Fame is fleeting and honestly, it’s just a lie.” I find his eyes and shrug. “Being famous doesn’t make anyone happy. It’s just… scary.”

“Sam, you deserve your family. They love you.”

“Yes, they do.” I nod and then shake my head. “And I love them more than anything. But I don’t deserve to have them pick up the pieces when my life falls apart. I’m in my thirties, for the love of Christ, Leo, I need to pick up my own pieces.”