“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I’d rather it stay between us,” he says.

I silently agree. It’s not that hard for me to keep secrets. I’m a pro at it.

I kind of like that Samson is a closed book. You can’t really dislike a book you haven’t read yet. But I think I’m able to be patient with him because he told me he’d eventually tell me all his truths. Otherwise, I might not find him worth the effort.

“I feel like there’s more to the story with Rake,” I say. “Will you explain it with all the other answers you owe me on August second?”

He nods. “Yeah. I’ll tell you then.”

“I’m going to start keeping a list of all the questions I want answers to.”

His lip twitches, like I amuse him. “And I’ll answer them all on August second.”

I take a step toward him. “You promise?”

“I swear.”

I lift one of his hands. He’s got dirt beneath all his fingernails. “Did you dig up all of it?”

“Yes.”

“And you’re sure it was Rake?”

“Positive.”

He looks and sounds exhausted. Maybe even sad. I really do think Rake was a bigger part of his life than he’s letting on. I glance at his necklace, then look back at his face. He’s staring down at me, the small streams of water sliding down his face.

My clothes are starting to get wet from the spray, so I take off my shirt and toss it over the wall of the shower. I leave on my shorts and bikini top and help Samson clean his fingernails. He stands patiently as I get all the dirt out from beneath each nail and then wash his hands with soap.

When I’m finished, Samson pulls on my hand and tugs me until I’m standing under the water with him. He kisses me, and I move with him as he backs himself against the wall, pulling me out of the stream of water.

It’s a lazy kiss. His hands are resting on my hips while he leans against the wall of the shower and lets me direct the moment.

I lean against him, pressing my breasts against his bare chest, wrapping my left hand around the back of his neck. I shouldn’t have told Sara it was a depressing kiss. That’s such a terrible description of what this is.

Durable is a better word.

All of our kisses feel important, like they’ll stay with me forever. They aren’t small displays of affection that happen in passing. There’s something bigger behind them than attraction. Right now that bigger thing is sadness, and I want to take that away from him, even if it’s just for a few minutes.

I drag my right hand down his chest until my fingers meet the elastic band of his shorts. I dip my hand inside, and right when I do, Samson inhales sharply. We stop kissing while I touch him for the first time. His eyes are focused hard on mine, like he’s silently saying I don’t have to do this, but also begging me not to stop.

I wrap my hand firmly around him and his head falls back with a sigh. “Beyah,” he whispers.

I kiss his neck and slowly begin to move my hand up and down the length of him. There’s more to him than there was to Dakota. It doesn’t surprise me. There’s more to Samson in almost every aspect compared to anyone else I know.

I use my left hand to lower his shorts enough so that he’s not confined inside them. We stand in this position for a couple of minutes, at least. Me touching him. Samson breathing heavier and deeper, gripping my hips tighter with every stroke. I watch his face the whole time, unable to look away. Sometimes he looks at me and other times he squeezes his eyes shut like it’s all too much.

When he begins to clench all the muscles in his body, he suddenly brings a hand up to my hair and pulls gently, tilting my head back so that his mouth can fit against mine. He takes two quick steps, pushing me against the opposite shower wall while he kisses me with more strength than every other kiss that came before this one.

My hand is still gripping him, and it’s like he can’t even breathe and kiss me at the same time because he breaks apart and presses the side of his head to the side of mine. His mouth is over my ear when he breathes out a guttural, “Fuck.”

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.