Heart Bones - Colleen Hoover Page 0,99
his brow. I want to walk over to him and smooth it out and tell him it’s finally okay.
He stares at the concrete like he doesn’t know what to do. But then he figures it out, because he begins walking toward me with urgency. He runs the last ten feet, and I gasp when he meets the car because he doesn’t stop there. He crawls onto the hood and immediately onto me until I’m forced to lean back against my windshield. Then his mouth is on mine and he’s apologizing to me with a silent fierceness I feel to my core.
I wrap my arms around his neck, and it’s as if a single second never even passed. We kiss on the hood of my car for several seconds, until Samson can’t seem to stand it anymore. He pulls away and hops off the car, then grabs my waist and pulls me to the edge, lowering my feet to the pavement. He wraps his arms around me and hugs me tighter than the first hug he ever gave me.
The next few minutes are a combination of tears (mostly mine) and kissing each other and staring at each other in disbelief. I had so many questions coming into this, but now I can’t think of a single one.
When we stop kissing long enough for him to speak, he says, “I probably should have asked if you were seeing someone before I did that.”
I smile with a strong shake of my head. “I’m very single.”
He kisses me again, slowly, and then stares at my mouth like it’s the thing he’s missed the most. “I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you.”
And it really is as simple as that.
His eyebrows draw apart with relief. He pulls me tightly against him and releases a heavy sigh into my hair. “I can’t believe you’re really here.” He picks me up and spins me around once before setting me back down on my feet. He rests our foreheads together and smiles. “What now?”
I laugh. “I have no idea. The rest of my day was contingent upon the outcome of this moment.”
“So was mine.” He grabs my hands and pulls them up to his mouth, kissing my knuckles. Then he tucks my fists against his chest and says, “I need to see Darya.”
His words remind me of a line in one of his father’s poems. I’ve read them so many times, I have them memorized, so I say it out loud. “Because when a man says I’m going home, he should be heading for the sea.”
I start to pull away from him so I can open my car door, but Samson grips my hand and pulls me right back. “My father wrote that. You have my backpack?”
It’s not until this moment I realize Samson probably assumed his backpack was gone forever. “Yeah. I took it the night they arrested you.”
“You kept my father’s poems for me?”
I nod. “Of course I did.”
There’s a pained look in his eyes, as if he’s trying to hold back tears. Then he closes the distance between us and slides his fingers into my hair, cradling my head in his hands. “Thank you for believing in me, Beyah.”
“You believed in me first, Samson. It’s the least I could do.”
THIRTY-TWO
When we finally got to the beach, he didn’t even pause to appreciate it. He got out of the car, took off his shirt and walked straight into her. I’ve been sitting in the sand watching him swim for a while. He’s the only one out in the water right now and I’m the only one on the beach. It’s empty because it’s October and Samson is insane for being in the water when it’s this cold.
But I get it. He needs it. Years of therapy, rolled up into a swim.
He eventually comes back to me, dropping to the sand next to me. He’s soaking wet and breathing hard, but he looks content. He said very little on the drive here, but I also haven’t asked very much. He’s been deprived of everything he loved for so long, I want to give him time to soak it all in before bombarding him with questions about the last few years.
He glances behind us. “Does no one live in Marjorie’s house?”
“No.”
He asks because it’s obvious the house hasn’t been taken care of since it’s been empty. There are shingles missing from the roof. Grass grown up around the foundation.
Marjorie passed away in March, so Kevin will probably put it up for sale