Now Leaving Sugartown Page 20

  He goes from heartbroken to furious in zero to sixty. “You don’t want kids?”

  “No, I don’t want kids. I live in a roach-infested apartment in the shittiest part of Melbourne. Junkies shoot up in my stairwell. I don’t have a stable job, I don’t have two god damn cents to rub together. I drive a stolen ice-cream van. I keep my crazy carefully controlled with a fucking cocktail of pills morning, noon and night. In what universe am I good mother material?”

  His eyes flash with anger, and then oddly they grow wistful and dreamy, like he’s seeing things that I can’t in his alcohol-soaked, addled brain.

  “You live here now, and I would help you with the baby. We’d find you a good doctor; with the right meds we could control your illness. I have money, a lot of money, since I work three jobs and don’t have a life. We could move out of the loft, buy a house where our kids would have room to play …” He splays his large hand across my stomach. “You’d look amazing with my baby in your belly.”

  “Stop,” I say, pushing his hands away. My skin crawls. For a second I feel like I just snorted a line of coke, because there’s no way I’m not high and hallucinating right now. “We’re not having this conversation. You’re drunk, and you’re hurting, I get that, but Sam, kids? You have to be more insane than I am to suggest this shit.”

  “This shit?” he demands, shooting up from the bed, and forcing me to take a half-step back. “This shit is what I’ve dreamed about since the night I took your virginity.”

  “Then you’re fucking crazier than I am.”

  “I’ve put my whole life on hold for you, Pepper. My whole god damn life, just waiting for you to come back.”

  “I never asked you to wait for me, Sam. I never planned on coming back to this shithole town. You had to know that, and yet you used me as a scapegoat for not getting on with your life.” I take a step back because right now I just really need to breathe, and to think without him touching me. “Jake was right; this is a huge mistake and we will never be able to make it work because we want different things. We’ve always wanted different things. And no matter how much we want each other, all these other things? They squeeze and they suffocate and they get in our heads and in the way.”

  “In the way of what? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Sometimes people are just not a good fit.”

  Sam glowers up at me. “Christ, Pepper, we’re not talking about a pair of fucking shoes here.”

  “No, we’re not. I ran five years ago because I knew I couldn’t be what you needed. I wanted you to be happy, and I knew I couldn’t give you that. Not in the long run.”

  “Don’t put this back on me. You were my entire world, and you just left.”

  “I left to make you happy, Sam.”

  “Bullshit. You left to make you happy. Because that’s all you’ve ever done, is manipulate everyone into giving you exactly what you want.”

  “You think I’m happy? I’m fucking miserable. I’m not sure I even remember how it feels to wake up and feel okay, to not want to pick up a blade again.”

  He flinches at my words, his body going rigid from the roots of his hair down to the tips of his toes.

  I shake my head and lower my voice. “You don’t get it; you’re too good for me. You’re too much for me. I’m fucked in the head. I don’t want kids because I don’t want them to have to go through a single second of the torment I feel inside here …” I tap my temple, tears stream down my cheeks. “… every damn day. I am broken, Sam. I’m not whole. I’m messed up, and I’m more than you can handle. I’m more than you should have to handle. I ran because I was afraid that if I didn’t, you’d never let me go, and one day when it all got too much to be with someone like me, you’d be burdened with a crazy-as-fuck psychotic girlfriend that you didn’t know how to deal with, and someone like you deserves more than that.”

  “That’s not a choice you get to make for me!” he yells

  I sniff, glaring up at him. “No, but it’s one I get to make for me.”

  “Why in the fuck did you come back then?” he slurs, and he sways a little on his feet, “To ruin my life some more?”

  “You’re a nasty drunk, Sammy Belle.” I shake my head and attempt to walk away but Sam pulls me back, grasping the tops of my arms tightly and shaking me.

  “Why? Why did you come back?”

  “Because I still love you, and I was homesick. Not for this arsehole, fucking town, or for Holly or Jack, but for you. I missed you, Sammy. My life was falling apart because you weren’t in it.”

  “You still love me?” he demands.

  I laugh through my tears. “Would I put up with your fucking bullshit if I didn’t?”

  “Then why now?” he says through gritted teeth. “If you loved me all this time, the way you claim to, why come back now? You made it this long without me.”

  “Because I’m selfish. Because every day since the second I left I’ve felt alone,” I whisper, “and I didn’t want to be alone anymore. Not that being together has made us anything other than miserable.”

  “You’re miserable with me?”

  “The only time I’m not miserable is when I’m with you, Sam. It’s going to kill me to leave you again.”

  “Then don’t. Don’t leave.” His breath is ragged. It reeks of too much alcohol, but it’s as though I can taste his desperation and his pain, too. “Stay with me. I can make you happy, Little. If you’ll just let me. Just try.”

  “I can’t be happy in this town. You know that as well as I do.”

  “So that’s it? You come back and you make me fall in love with you all over again and then you leave, just like before?”

  “I don’t know what else to do.”

  “Quit fucking running, Pepper!” he shouts. “That’s all you need to do—just quit running.”

  “Stop yelling at me.”

  “Then stop fucking torturing me. Stop making me fall in love with you, stop running out on me in the middle of the night, just … try this, please? Just try, for me.”

  He doesn’t get it.

  Nothing has changed. He’s still going to wake up one day and find it’s all too much, that he’s had enough of crazy. I’d rather have him hate me now than resent me later for making him waste his life on someone who’s always going to be just a little bit broken.

  I shake my head and glare at him. “Why? So we can both hurt more when I have to leave? No thank you.”

  “Why do you have to leave?” Sam buries his face in his hands and heaves a sigh of frustration. “Fuck! Why do you have to make everything so god damned difficult?”

  I ball my hands into fists at my sides and snap, “Why can’t you just let me go?”

  “I don’t know, why couldn’t you let me go? Why did you come back? I was doing fine. I’d gotten real good at this pretending shit, even had everyone convinced I was single because I wanted to be, not because I couldn’t get over the one who got away.”

  “Jesus, Sammy. I’m not the one. Can’t you see that? If you have to work this god damned hard at it, maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

  “I don’t believe that for a second, and neither do you. You’re only saying this shit because it gives you a fucking out. Well guess what, Pepper? You don’t get an out. I don’t care if I have to follow you to the fucking moon and back—that’s what I’ll do.” He pens me in against the wall and takes my face between his thumb and forefinger, clumsily jerking my head up so my gaze is squarely on his. “I’m not letting you get away this time, Little.”

  “Don’t,” I say, lowering my gaze and attempting to wrench free of his hold. He leans down, searching my face until my eyes finally lock onto his.

  “If you leave me, I’m coming with you. You can run as far and as fast as you want, but I’ll be right behind you. I’ll be right here.” He places his hand against the centre of my chest. “Right where I’ve always been. And one of these days, Pepper, you’re gonna realise that your feet are awfully fucking tired.”


  God damn him. I am tired, I’m more bone-weary than I’ve ever been, but I still don’t know how to stop running from him. I take a deep shuddering breath and say, “I don’t know how to stop.”

  “You don’t have to, because I’m taking those damn running shoes of yours and I’m gonna set fire to them.”

  I shake my head. More tears spill over my cheeks, and I wipe them away with the backs of my hands. Sam’s gazing down at me as if his ability to breathe depends on what comes out of my mouth next, and maybe it does, because damn if I don’t feel the same way.

  “They’re already ash at my feet,” I whisper, and lean up on my tippy-toes, letting him set fire to the rest of me.

  SAM FOLDS his big hand around mine and I smile up at him. We’re at Ana and Elijah’s place, sitting down to Sunday lunch, surrounded by our family, and it couldn’t be more fucking awkward. At least, that’s how it feels for me. Glancing around the table I notice everyone’s here, but they’re not really present. Elijah’s on edge for some unexplained reason, and Ana is just kind of pushing her food around her plate. Sue looks tired, and sad, and like she’d rather be anywhere but here right now. Lil’s absorbed in her phone. Jake is surprisingly absent and Holly is glaring at Jack, who’s sitting way too close to me and is watching Sammy with narrowed eyes as though he were a cockroach crawling over his food.

  Yeah, awkward doesn’t even begin to cut it.

  Three weeks on from Bob’s funeral and it’s as if everyone’s just going through the motions: eat, work, sleep, and sit down to Sunday lunch. None of us have really recovered. Sammy puts on a good front, but he’s quiet, and there’s this vibe about him, as if he’s in an awful damn hurry to settle into coupledom with a big fuck-off SUV and a handful of kiddies. Ana still bursts into tears for seemingly no reason, Elijah wants to tear everyone a new one for so much as breathing in hers or Lil’s direction. Jack wants to kill Sammy. Holly wants to kill Jack—nothing new there—and I’m so restless, and so bursting full of the need to escape this town and the eyes that follow me everywhere that I can’t sit still.

  The only constant throughout this whole thing has been Sam’s strong hands worshipping my body night after night. Some might say he’s burying his feelings in sex. I say bury away, I’ll get the god damn shovel, because I know a little something about that oblivion he’s seeking, and it’s not a bad place to be. Not really. Sometimes oblivion is all you need.

  Sam lifts my hand and presses a soft kiss to my skin. His eyes are filled with trouble as his mouth tips up in a slow smile that has my little pink juice-box doing cartwheels. Everyone seated at the table falls away, and I’m sucker-punched in the face with need. I’m just about to haul his arse off to the first available room with a locking door when Jack reaches across my plate to collect a bowl of peas, and practically knocks me out with his elbow in the process. He slumps back down in the seat beside me and glares at Sammy. I let out a heavy sigh.

  “Sam, can you pass the chicken? And the mash?” Jack bites out through his teeth.

  Sam turns to him with a bemused expression, and then passes the chicken with one hand, and then the potatoes, all with his fingers still firmly interlocked with mine.

  “And the carrots, too?” Jack says, sounding way more pissy than the last time he opened his mouth.

  “Jesus Christ, Jackarse, can you be any more obvious about what you’re doing?” Holly shakes her head.

  “What? I’m hungry.”

  “Yeah, for a fucking execution.”

  “Listen.” Sammy leans forward in his seat, attempting to make eye contact with Jack. My dad gives him eye contact with a side of, “I’m going to gut you like a fish”.

  Sam clears his throat and tries again. “I know you’re not comfortable with this—”

  “Comfortable?” Jack says, incredulously. “What gave it away?”

  “I’m not fucking around with her. I love her. I’ve always loved her, and that’s not going to change.”

  I choke on my meal and wonder how the hell we got to this point so quickly. Not that he loves me—I guess some part of me buried way, way down beneath the crazy has always know that—but discussing it in front of everyone? Yeesh. I just don’t feel right about talking out our feels in front of the family. Not yet—not after so many years of trying to hide whatever this thing was from them.

  I glance around the table. Ana is now all misty-eyed, Elijah’s watching Jack as if at any moment he might leap up, grab Sammy by the hair and throw down beside the mashed potatoes, Lil still looks bored—nothing new there—and my mother? Well, she actually looks happy. With me. Which is … weird, and something I’m completely unused to.

  “That’s my fucking kid you’re talking about, arsehole,” Jack continues, as if the rest of us aren’t here. “You’re my cousin, which makes you her cousin.”

  “Technically she’s Coop’s kid,” Sam says, and that, ladies and gentlemen, is a sure-fire way to ensure that Sam will never get inside my panties again because Jack is going to break every bone in his body.

  Jack’s face turns puce. He hates any mention of my dad, but it’s more than that; he hates being reminded that though he was the man to raise me, he has no biological claim on me. He’s more of my dad than Coop is. I don’t begrudge either one of them, or Holly, for making the decisions they did. They weren’t my decisions to make. But Jack certainly doesn’t appreciate being reminded that he’s not my real father. Sam knows this just as well as I do, so this little oversight, no matter how innocent, isn’t boding well for this whole Let’s Get Jack On Board With Sammy Screwing My Brains Out plan.

  “I love her, Jack, and she loves me. You might not like it but that’s too fucking bad. I’m not giving her up.”

  My eyes widen and I’m a little bit speechless. Awkward. I mean, yeah, I love him. I’ve always loved him, but isn’t it a little early to be declaring it in front of the parents? Yes. It is, I decide. It is way too early for that because my mum and Ana are having one of those creepy silent exchanges where they read one another’s mind, and their faces have DIY Wedding Plans written all over them.

  I shoot up from my seat and glare at him. “Can I talk to you?”

  Sam gives me an uncertain look, and then slowly pushes his chair back and stands. I snatch up his hand and pull him into the hall, leading him into Ana and Elijah’s bedroom with its perfectly pristine white bedspread and sheets.

  “What’s up, Little?” Sam asks, as he follows me into the room.

  I turn and face him, and blurt out the first thing that enters my head. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “You’re ready to go home? We haven’t even finished eating.”

  “No, I mean let’s get out of here. Out of this town.”

  “Where do you wanna go?”

  “Let’s go to the city. Let’s just leave everything behind and go. You’d love Melbourne, Sam. The coffee, the food, the people … it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.”

  “Whoa.” He holds up his hands to slow my roll. “My dad just died, Little. My sister’s barely keeping her shit together as it is. How’s she going to feel when she learns she’s losing not one, but three family members in as many weeks?”

  “I’m dying here, Sam. I’m bored shitless. I’m going outta my mind with thoughts and if I have to sit through one more ogling from the bitchy mums at school pick-up I’m going to snap and start yanking their top-knots out.” I hurry to finish before he can stop me. “You said you’d follow me; you said you’d go anywhere.”

  He walks over to the bed and sits down heavily, resting his head in his hands. “Why does it have to be now?”

  “Because if it’s not now I’m afraid you’ll never want to go, and I can’t stay here, and I can’t fall deeper and still walk away.”

  “Who the fuck said anything about walking away?” he snaps. “I told you I’m not letting you pull that shit again, Pepper. I said I’d follow you and I meant it, but I can’t leave right this second. If we’re gonna do
this, we do it right. We have family we have to prepare; we can’t just up and leave. I have things to get in order. I’ll be giving up a job that I love more than anything I’ve ever done, and one I worked towards for years. They’ll need to find someone to replace me.” He holds his hand out to me and when I place my small one in his he pulls me into him and wraps his big arms around me, falling back on the bed. He’s squeezing me too tightly. I can’t breathe. “I’ll go wherever you want me to. I’m just asking for a couple more weeks.”

  “Okay,” I whisper against his chest, but unease prickles through the soles of my feet, my legs itch, and in the back of my head one word plays on repeat like a broken record: run. I don’t, obviously. One, because Sam’s grip on me is so tight that I doubt I’d ever get away. And two, because eventually I’d only end up running right back to him. And next time I know he won’t be waiting with open arms.

  I’VE NEVER seen so many buildings, or people or traffic, for that matter. It’s not that I’ve never been to a city; more like I’ve never felt a city before, not the way I feel this one. But more than the buzz of sharing a space with one hundred other people on a train, or the different sights and smells of my new home, I’ve never seen Pepper quite this invigorated. It’s as if she’s alive again.

  The last couple of months have been tough on the both of us. Losing Dad was a kick in the face, and the whole town felt it. I couldn’t walk down the street without someone offering their condolences, which was fine, and expected, but it’d been eight weeks, and no one was forgetting anytime soon that they’d already offered their condolences a hundred times over.

  My sister still broke down and cried at the mention of his name. She’d cried even harder when we broke the news and told her we were leaving. Everyone but Holly had been surprised at that. She’d just given me a look that more or less said I had better take care of her daughter, and then she’d gone back to watching Pepper like a hawk. And hell, if that hadn’t given me pause. I’d known something was up with Pepper; she said that she was still taking her pills, and that sometimes they made her withdraw, they made her different, but that she was fine. She wasn’t fine. I could see that now.