Sam.

~~~

I stood frozen, trying to steady my breathing, but each inhale seemed to make my head foggier. Was I imagining this, or was she really here? The absurdity of the whole "deep breaths will calm you" mantra hit harder with every attempt. My anxiety wasn't going anywhere.

"Ray," I said, my voice trembling as I grabbed his hand.

"I'll handle this, love," he whispered, leaning in close.

His words were meant to comfort me, but I couldn't shake the unease twisting in my stomach. We lingered awkwardly between the foyer and the kitchen, unnoticed by the others. Molly, blissfully unaware of the tension, strolled confidently toward the couch, leaving me alone with Ray.

I heard Logan's voice carrying over the low hum of conversation as he introduced Molly to everyone. Molly, of course, knew bits and pieces about the guys, but this was her first time actually hanging out with them. I wanted to be the one to help her feel welcome, to make the introductions myself, but I couldn't move.

Instead, my gaze locked on her—Cortney. Tall and lean, her elegant presence filled the room in a way that made my chest tighten. Why the fuck is she here?

I didn't even register Rory until I saw him sprawled on the couch, casually chatting with Logan. Molly glanced my way, motioning for me to come join them with a tilt of her head, but I couldn't. My feet felt cemented to the floor.

Molly grabbed a glass of champagne, her laughter blending easily with the group. Cortney was holding a matching glass, the golden bubbles catching the light. I didn't know what I was supposed to do—was I expected to be civil? Friendly, even? How was I supposed to handle being face-to-face with Ray's ex?

"James, a word," Ray said suddenly, his firm voice cutting through the chatter.

I hadn't even noticed him leave my side. Now, everyone in the room turned their attention to him. I watched as James exchanged a glance with Cortney before nodding, his hand still resting on the waist of the dark-haired girl standing beside him. She was beautiful—long black hair framing her sharp features like she'd stepped out of a magazine.

Feeling abandoned, I hovered awkwardly near the stairs. The room seemed louder, more overwhelming without Ray or Molly by my side. I debated slipping back upstairs but forced myself to step forward instead. Ignorance might be my curse, but maybe it's a blessing tonight, I thought, deciding to face the music.

I headed into the living room, where Andrew greeted me with a warm smile and a gentle hug.

"Champagne?" he offered, holding up a glass.

"No, thanks," I murmured, my eyes darting toward the couch. That's when my sight landed on him.

"Rory," I blurted out, my voice higher than I intended.

He stood, his broad shoulders and casual grin catching me off guard. Before I could react, he leaned in for a hug, and I instinctively returned it. His bare bicep brushed against my arm, the unexpected contact making me stiffen. The hug was brief, but it felt forced—like he was trying to make a show of our supposed friendship. But who was it for?

Logan waved from his seat, saving me from lingering in the awkwardness. I managed a weak smile in return and turned toward the women. Molly was already laughing with them, her easy charm fitting right in.

"Hi, I'm Sam," I said as I approached the group.

"Cortney," she said, lifting her champagne flute in acknowledgment. Her green eyes narrowed as she scanned me from head to toe. Up close, she was even more stunning than I'd imagined, her perfect features making me feel painfully average.

"I'm Chloe," the black-haired girl chimed in with a polite smile. "James's girlfriend." She gestured toward the kitchen with her chin, where Ray and James had disappeared.

"Nice to meet you both," I said, forcing a cheerful tone I didn't feel. "Can I get you anything?"

"Andrew's taken good care of us," Cortney said, reaching out to touch his arm. He stiffened, quickly shifting away from her touch, his expression unreadable. "So, we don't need anything from you."

I nodded, biting back a retort. Cortney reeked of entitlement. I'd known girls like her in high school—queen bees who thrived on making others feel small. But this wasn't some schoolyard, and I wasn't about to let petty drama ruin my night.

"Great. I'll leave you to it, then," I said with as much faux enthusiasm as I could muster. "I'm going to say hi to James." Neither of them responded, their attention drifting elsewhere as I stepped away.

Before I could make it far, Andrew caught my arm. "Come on," he said quietly, guiding me toward the stairs. I followed him reluctantly, grateful for the reprieve. Once we reached the landing, he leaned in close, his voice low. "Let them talk it out."

I sighed, letting my shoulders slump. "Why is she here?" I asked, the frustration spilling out.

Andrew hesitated before answering. "I think James is on a deep end," he whispered. "Considering he got back together with Chloe...".

"Andrew, honey, I'm going to need a bit more information than that," I said softly, trying to persuade him to spill the details. His dark eyes locked onto mine, deep and penetrating, like he could see straight through me.

Andrew always had this unnerving way of looking at people, as though he could read every hidden corner of your soul. At first, his muscular frame and stoic expression came off as intimidating, but the warmth in his gaze could disarm even the coldest heart.

"Fine," he said, at last, grabbing my hand again. "But only because it's kind of necessary, and I, uh... sort of love you."

"Aww," I teased, tilting my head to the side with an exaggerated smile.

"Stop," he groaned, furrowing his brows. The faint blush on his cheeks was barely hidden by his dark skin. It was rare to catch Andrew flustered, and it made me laugh despite the tension.

"Let's go to the backyard," he muttered, tugging me toward the door.

As we crossed the foyer, the music grew louder, a steady beat reverberating through the walls. I glanced around, scanning the room. James and Ray were still in the kitchen, their postures tense. Ray gestured animatedly, his hands slicing through the air, while James leaned against the island, his blond hair hanging over his face like a curtain. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn't going well.

In the living room, the rest of the group lounged on the couch, their laughter blending with the music. A massive plasma screen on the far wall played music videos that no one seemed to be watching. Drinks were flowing, and the mood was light—at least for them.

A cool breeze greeted us as we stepped outside, sending a shiver down my spine. Spot, lay sprawled on the ground, gnawing contentedly on a bone. When he saw us, he lifted his head, tail wagging lazily, and followed us to the wooden swing near the pool.

The hinges creaked as we sat down. Spot settled at my feet, his head resting against my ankle. I reached down to scratch behind his ears, finding a momentary comfort in the familiar act.

"So," I began, breaking the silence. "What did you mean by saying James is 'on a deep end'?"

Andrew sighed, leaning back against the swing. "Before James joined the band, he was part of another group—Howling Winds. Ever heard of them?" I shook my head, confused.

"They're... rap-metal, I guess you could call it. Not really my thing, but they were big in the same circuit we toured in. We ran into them a lot, shared a lot of the same people in our extended social circles."

"Okay," I said, urging him to continue.

"They were also big into partying." He glanced at me, gauging my reaction. "The kind of partying that comes with heavy stuff. You know, drugs. And, as you probably know, we have a strict no-drug policy in the band."

I furrowed my brows, surprised by the turn the conversation was taking. "Why hasn't Ray mentioned any of this to me?" I asked quietly, though the question felt more rhetorical than anything.

Andrew sighed again, shaking his head. "That's what I'm wondering too." I stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. "Anyway," he said, waving a hand. "James left that band after he overdosed. Thankfully, he made it out okay and got into rehab. After that, he called me. Said he'd been clean for three months and wanted to join us. Ray and I figured it was worth giving him a chance, so we did."

My stomach tightened. "Do you think he's using again?"

"I'm not sure," Andrew admitted, his voice dropping. "But the other day, when he was going on about Chloe... I got suspicious. I asked him outright, but he denied it."

"Chloe?" I asked, frowning. "What's her connection to all this?"

"She's part of that same scene," Andrew said, shifting slightly on the swing. "She and James hooked up ages ago. Then, through her, we met Cortney."

"Wait—Chloe introduced Ray to Cortney?"

He nodded, his expression darkening. "I really shouldn't be telling you all this," he said, glancing at me. "Ray should be the one to fill you in."

I followed his gaze toward the house, where the white light poured through the windows. Inside, the group had shifted, now shuffling through a pizza box. Plates and greasy slices passed from hand to hand as laughter bubbled through the glass. For a brief moment, I wanted to be back inside, where everything seemed normal.

Andrew's cough brought me back. "You get it now, though, right?"

"Yeah," I said softly, though my mind felt heavy. The mention of drugs, of overdoses and loss, brought up old wounds.

Andrew studied my face, his eyes softening. "Just... keep an eye on James," he said, his tone gentler now. "And talk to Ray. He shouldn't be keeping this from you."

I nodded, my gaze lingering on the house once more. The music seemed muffled now, and the laughter inside felt distant like it belonged to another world.

"Anyway," Andrew said, his voice soft but steady. "I won't lie—Courtney's here for Ray. Chloe probably invited her, or maybe Courtney invited herself. She's... good at that." He shifted closer, taking my hand in his. His warmth steadied me. "But Sam, listen to me. He's madly in love with you. You have nothing to worry about."

"Then why won't he tell me anything about her?" My voice cracked, tears gathering in my eyes despite my best efforts to hold them back.

Andrew reached out and wiped a tear from my cheek with his thumb. "Because he's a coward," he said simply. I furrowed my brows, his words landing like a punch to the gut.

"I love him," Andrew continued, his tone more serious now. "He's my best friend. I'd die for him in a heartbeat. But Ray's not perfect. He's scared."

"Scared of what?" I whispered.

"Losing you."

I shook my head, frustration bubbling beneath my sadness. "How would telling me about his ex make him lose me? That doesn't even make sense."

Andrew sighed, standing up and offering me his hand. "That's something he should explain," he said. Then, with a small smile, he added, "Let's get some pizza. I'm starving."

"You go," I replied, shaking my head. "I'll put Spot in the kennel."

Andrew nodded, slipping his hands into the back pockets of his bright blue jeans as he turned back toward the house. I watched him disappear inside, the warm glow of the lights swallowing him up.

Spot nudged my hand with his nose, breaking my reverie. I scratched behind his ears, letting the rhythm of his wagging tail ground me.

"Come on," I murmured, standing up. The house was alive with music and laughter, and I caught a glimpse of Molly dancing near the window, carefree and uninhibited.

Spot trotted beside me as I led him toward the kennel near the back fence. His tongue lolled out, and the moment I opened the metal gate, he darted to the water bowl and drank eagerly. The kennel, once built for Ray's old dog, had become Spot's sanctuary since Ray no longer needed it.

I closed the gate, the click echoing in the still night. That's when I heard it—a loud, grating laugh that seemed to bounce off the fence and echo through the yard. I froze, confused at first, until I spotted two shadows moving near the edge of the patio.

Courtney and Chloe.

I crouched instinctively, hiding in the shadows of the unlit backyard. The faint glow of their cigarettes flickered as they lit up, the scent of burning tobacco drifting toward me.

"Did you see what she was wearing?" Courtney's voice rang out, followed by another shrill laughter.

I bit the inside of my cheek, knowing I should get up and walk away. But my feet stayed rooted, my body rigid with dread.

"Plaid is so not a thing anymore," Chloe said, her voice dripping with disdain.

I clenched my fists, the realization hitting me like a slap to the face. They were talking about me.

"Ray's pissed, though," Chloe added.

"He'll get over it," Courtney said, blowing out a puff of smoke. "He always does." Her voice was singsong, smug.

"Not sure this will work this time," Chloe said. "He bought a ring."

My heart stopped. A ring?

I pressed a hand to my mouth, fighting the urge to jump out from my hiding spot and demand answers. But I stayed still, paralyzed by the weight of what I'd just heard.

"So you keep saying," Courtney replied, exhaling smoke like it was her own personal punctuation. "But he took me back before, and she..." She paused, dragging out the words. "She's nothing. You saw her, right? Look at me, and then look at her. I'm gorgeous. She's... what? Fat? Her face is okay, I guess, but she has zero style. That plaid dress? Please."

"You're right," Chloe agreed, grinding out her cigarette with her heel. "You're always right."

"I know," Courtney said with a laugh that scraped against my nerves like nails on a chalkboard.

Their laughter faded as they walked back inside, leaving me crouched in the dark, my chest heaving with silent sobs. My vision blurred as tears spilled over, hot and unrelenting. I pressed my hands to my face, trying to stifle the sounds threatening to escape.

For a moment, I stayed there, hidden and small, until the overwhelming urge to flee took over. I slipped through the side gate and into the empty street beyond, my feet moving on their own.

I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I couldn't stay.