Heart Bones(55)

Chills roll down my body as he begins to shudder beneath my touch. I continue to stroke him until I feel the sticky warmth of him on the palm of my hand, and he eventually sighs, burying his face against my neck.

He takes a moment to catch his breath, and then he reaches for the showerhead. He pulls it between us, washing himself and my hand, and then he lets it fall to the floor before kissing me again.

He’s breathing like he just ran a marathon. At this point, I might be breathing like that, too.

When he finally pulls away and looks down at me, some of the weight has lifted from behind his eyes. That’s all I wanted. For him to feel better about whatever happened to him out there tonight.

I kiss him tenderly on the corner of his mouth, preparing to say good night, but he runs his fingers through my wet hair and whispers, “When are you going to let me hold you?”

His eyes are pleading, like he needs a hug more than he needed what I just gave him.

I’d probably let him hug me right now if I wasn’t so afraid it would make me cry. It’s like he can see the war in my eyes, so he just nods and kisses the side of my head.

“Good night,” I whisper.

“Good night, Beyah.” He turns off the shower and I grab my shirt, pull it back on and walk away from his house.





NINETEEN


All five of Samson’s houses were rented for the July 4th weekend, so he’s staying with Marcos.

It’s been a week since he found Rake. We haven’t talked about it. There’s less than a month left until August second, and I’ll get all my answers then. I’m not looking forward to it. August second to me just means the eve of the day we’ll be saying goodbye to each other.

I’m just trying to focus on today.

And today, the beaches are so crazy, we don’t even want to be out there. We’re on Marcos’s balcony. It’s a few rows back from the beach, which is why we’re here. There is so much music and noise and more drunk people than you could find in any bar in Texas, so none of us have the urge to hang out closer to those crowds.

We ate dinner with Marcos’s family tonight. He’s got two little sisters and there was so much activity and conversation and food. Samson looked like he was right at home with Marcos’s family, and it made me wonder what he’s like when he’s around his own family.

Do they have family meals together like my father and Alana like to do? Would they accept me if they ever met me? Something tells me they wouldn’t or he wouldn’t be so secretive about them.

I felt accepted tonight, though. Accepted and well fed. My goal to gain weight this summer has been crushed. I’m not sure I can even fit into the one pair of jeans I bought when I got here. I’ve worn mostly shorts and my bathing suit this whole summer.

The sun just set, but the fireworks started before that. They’re picking up now that it’s finally dark, and they’re coming from all over the peninsula.

“The Galveston fireworks will start in a few minutes,” Sara says. “I wish we could see them from here.”

“Marjorie’s roof would have a good view,” Samson says.

“You think she’d let us use it?” I ask.

Samson shrugs. “Depends on if she’s awake or not.”

Marcos stands up. “No one can sleep through this noise.”

We all make our way to Marjorie’s, along with P.J., who was waiting beneath Marcos’s house.

Marjorie is sitting on her porch when we reach her street, watching all the commotion on the beach. She sees us approaching and says, “I figured you’d be here sooner than this.” She waves a hand toward her front door. “Be my guest.”

“Thanks, Marjorie,” Samson says.

Once we’re inside, he waits for Sara and Marcos to climb the stairs first, then me. When we reach the roof entrance, Sara is on her hands and knees as she crawls out the opening. Marcos tries to help her, but she shakes her head. “It’s too high. I can’t move.”

Samson laughs. “Try to get to the center of the roof. You’ll only see the sky instead of the ground.”

Sara crawls to the center of the roof. We all follow and I sit down next to her. Samson sits next to me.

“How do you walk around up here?” Sara asks him.

“I don’t look down,” Samson says.

Sara covers her face for a minute as she tries to lessen the dizziness. “I had no idea I was afraid of heights.”

Marcos wraps an arm around her. “Come here, babe.” She moves closer to Marcos, and seeing him hold her like that makes me very aware that Samson and I aren’t even touching. I glance at him, but he’s looking at fireworks that are being shot from somewhere down the beach.

“Is Marjorie lonely?” I ask him.

He looks at me and smiles. “No. She has a son. He’s a lawyer in Houston. He comes to visit her a couple times a month.”

That makes me feel good.

Samson sees the relief on my face, and then he leans toward me and gives me a quick peck. “You’re sweet,” he whispers. Then he grabs my hand, threading his fingers through mine, and we watch the fireworks in silence.

The more time that passes, the more there are. We can see them all around us, in the bay, coming from Galveston. Somehow, there are even fireworks being shot from way out in the ocean.