chapter 14

Fiona's POV

There comes a time one's life where you just have to tell yourself the truth and right now my truth is that in a matter of mere weeks I had gone way beyond crushing on Sam Fox. I still ca what I feel for him but the word crush, does cut close

Because, can someone tell me why I'm foolishly allowing myself to be dragged away from a party by the man that has done a really good job at pretending that I do not exist for the past months

"Let me go" I replied through gritted teeth. I was very upset, more at myself than him. How could I be so careless with my feelings not only did like someone that is doesn't have a single regard for my feelings and also lacks respect for me. I was having romantic fantasies for a non believer. Will I ever move on from my past behavior?

"One second" he replied. We were already at the parking lot, he pulled me to his car before finally letting go of my hand at the passenger's door

Samuel held opened the door and softly ordered "Get in"

Planted on his face, was a little genuine smile. Seeing the smile, I lost the will to argue with him. For the moment, I could pretend like he didn't just pull me away like a ragdoll

I sat the car and waited for him to get in on the driver's side. He came in prompted me to put on my seatbelt while he put on his and started the car

"Where are you taking me?" I asked before he moved

"Somewhere we can talk" he answered in a slightly pleasant voice that served to irritate me because he acted like we were on talking terms now.

Come to think of it, we've never been on talking terms, it's always been me forcing a conversation and him ordering me about

"Where is that?" I asked once again

"Somewhere quiet" he replied

"And where is somewhere quiet" I clipped

"You'll see" Mr Fox answered but at this point he smile had died. Which was just fine with me. He start moving the car but I'd be damned if I just sat quiet and went along with whatever he had in mind

"Tell me where you're taking me to or I'm not going with you" I was already popping of my seatbelt, he need to know I'm not making empty threats

"Can't you just be patient?"

"No, I'm not waiting. Tell me now" I yelled this time loosing all control of my vocals

"Well, I can't tell you what I do not know!" He yelled back

"What?!" I shouted in confusion

"I don't know where I'm taking you alright?!" He answered

"Why?!"

"Well, I wasn't expecting to find you and your boyfriend at a party. Was I?!"

"Can you not yell and drive!" I asked because things were getting chaotic

"You started yelling first!" He answered back

I swallowed the urged to yell at him in response and instead focused on steadying my breath for a few seconds. I spoke when I felt calm again

"Since we both don't know where we're going can you just drive me home, we can talk there" I suggested and he nodded in agreement

The rest of the drive was tense, a thick silence hanging in the air. Sam seemed to focus on the road, though his jaw was clenched tightly, betraying the thoughts swirling in his head. I sat beside him, arms crossed, staring out the window, willing my heart to calm down. My mind, however, raced ahead, analyzing everything that had just happened.

Why had he pulled me away so suddenly? Why now, after months of radio silence? And why was I letting him?

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white. He looked as controlled as ever on the outside, but the small details—his tense shoulders, the hard set of his mouth—revealed that something was unraveling within him.

I should be angry—hell, I *was* angry—but beneath all that anger was something else, something far more dangerous. Hope. The very thing I'd promised myself I wouldn't let resurface when it came to Sam Fox.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a second, trying to push it down.

By the time we pulled up in front of my house, my frustration had simmered into something resembling resignation. The engine cut off, leaving us both suspended in the silence of the night. Neither of us moved to get out. Instead, we sat there, locked in our own stubbornness.

"You didn't tell me you were coming to the party," Sam finally said, breaking the silence.

I snorted, crossing my arms tighter. "Why would I? It's not like we've been on speaking terms." I shot him a sideways glance. "Besides, you wouldn't have cared, right?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair, and for a moment, he looked... vulnerable. "Fiona, that's not—" He stopped, clearly unsure of how to proceed.

"That's not what?" I pressed, my irritation bubbling up again. "Because from where I'm standing, that's exactly what it feels like. You've been avoiding me, Sam. Pretending like I don't exist. So, forgive me if I don't believe you *now* suddenly want to talk."

His gaze dropped to the steering wheel, and the weight of his silence filled the space between us. Finally, he spoke, his voice low. "You're right. I *have* been avoiding you."

I blinked, surprised at his blunt admission. My stomach flipped, but I steeled myself. I needed more than this half-confession. "Why?" I demanded, my voice softer but no less urgent. "Why are you avoiding me?"

He stayed silent for a moment, staring out the windshield as if the answer was written in the night sky. Then he turned to face me, his expression conflicted. "Because... because I don't know how to deal with what I feel when I'm around you."

My breath caught in my throat. That was not what I'd expected him to say.

"What?" I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

"I tried to stay away, to keep things... controlled," he continued, his tone strained. "But no matter what I do, you're always in my head, Fiona. I thought ignoring it would make it go away, but..." He trailed off, looking genuinely frustrated.

"But what?" I pressed, my heart pounding in my chest.

"But it didn't work." He shook his head. "I can't stop thinking about you. And it scares the hell out of me."

For a moment, I just sat there, processing his words. The anger that had been simmering for weeks evaporated, replaced by confusion and something that felt dangerously close to relief. "Sam..." I began, searching for the right words. "I don't understand. If you feel that way, why not just... talk to me? Why push me away?"

He let out a sharp breath, leaning back against the headrest. "Because I didn't want to drag you into my mess. You have no idea what kind of person I am, Fiona. The things I've done... You're better off without me."

His words hung heavy in the air, but I wasn't buying it. Not anymore. I'd spent too long tiptoeing around my feelings, trying to understand this complex, frustrating man. "Don't you think I should be the one to decide that?" I asked quietly.

He looked at me, surprised. "What?"

I met his gaze, holding it steady. "I'm not some fragile thing you have to protect from yourself, Sam. I'm a grown woman. I can handle complicated. But I can't handle being shut out. If you don't want this—whatever this is—then fine. But don't make that decision for me."

The weight of my words seemed to hit him, and he stayed silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely audible. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"You're already hurting me," I whispered, the truth of it raw in my voice.

We sat in the silence that followed, both of us absorbing the weight of the conversation. The air between us felt different now—heavier, but more honest.

I let out a breath and glanced toward my house. "Let's talk on the porch. I think we both need some fresh air."

He nodded silently, and we both climbed out of the car. The cool night air hit me as I walked toward the front steps of my house. I could hear the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze, the distant hum of crickets, and for a moment, it was easy to pretend that the world beyond this moment didn't exist.

We sat down on the front stairs, side by side, though we left a safe distance between us. I stared out at the quiet street in front of us, gathering my thoughts.

"You know," I began, my voice low, "I used to think that you were just some cold, untouchable businessman. The kind of guy who didn't let anyone get close." I glanced at him, finding him watching me intently. "But then, I saw glimpses of something else. Something... real. I don't know what that is, Sam, but I know I'm not imagining it."

He didn't respond right away. When he finally spoke, his voice was rough, almost pained. "You weren't wrong about me. I *am* that guy. I've spent most of my life making sure no one gets too close, and for good reason. But with you..." He shook his head. "With you, I feel different. And I don't know what to do with that."

I let his words sink in, my chest tightening. "We don't have to figure it all out right now," I said softly. "We can take things slow. But you have to promise me something."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly wary. "What?"

I smiled slightly. "There's a youth program at my church next week. I'm helping organize it, and I'd like you to come."

Sam blinked, looking taken aback. "Church?"

I nodded. "Yes, church. It's important to me, and if you really want to be part of my life, you have to understand that."

He looked like he wanted to protest, but before he could, I added, "Think of it as part of taking things slow. It's not like I'm asking you to make any life-altering commitments." I gave him a pointed look. "Just show up."

Sam sighed, clearly reluctant. "I'm not exactly the church-going type, Fiona."

"I know," I said with a shrug. "But it's important to me. And besides..." I smirked slightly. "If you really want to spend time with me, you're going to have to meet me halfway."

He stared at me for a long moment before finally relenting with a groan. "Fine. I'll go. But don't expect any miracles."

I grinned. "I won't. But I do expect you to show up."

Sam shook his head, but there was a small, genuine smile on his face now—the kind I hadn't seen in months.

As we stood up, the tension between us seemed to ease, the unspoken promise of more to come settling in the air. I took a step forward, and before I could stop myself, I wrapped my arms around him in a simple, brief hug.

He froze for a second, clearly surprised, but then his arms came up around me, holding me gently but firmly. It wasn't much, but it was enough. Enough to let me know that we'd taken the first step, however small.

When we pulled back, I smiled at him softly. "Goodnight, Sam."

"Goodnight, Fiona," he said, his voice warm in a way that made my heart flutter.

As I watched him walk back to his car and drive off into the night, I felt lighter—like maybe, just maybe, things could be different between us. Slow, but different.