Page 45 of Tempting Devil
Questions I feared I’d never learn the answer to.
“Revenge against who? Me?”
He shook his head. “The people who did this to him. Who killed Sam. He truly believes that, while Sam’s DNA may run through him, the Samuel Tate we both know and love did die in that car. Hell, for a while I believed that, too. Until…” He trailed off.
“Yes?”
He adjusted his grip on the steering wheel, turning down the street leading toward Chastain Park.
“Since he’s been spending time with you, I’ve seen more and more of the man he used to be. The old Sam. He’s still in there, even if he’s buried underneath years of painful memories and trauma.”
“What happened?” I asked again, partly to myself. Partly to see if Henry would actually respond this time.
“Like I said, it’s not my story to tell.”
“Will he ever tell me?”
“I hope so.”
He steered the car up the long driveway leading to my parents’ house, then put it in park, jumping out to open my door for me.
“I can manage on my own.”
“I promised I’d make sure you made it home safely. That means into the house.”
“Fine,” I huffed, too exhausted to fight. Instead, I walked beside Henry toward the front door.
This was a path I’d walked hundreds of times in my life, but today it felt different. My brain rewound to the first time I brought Samuel home to meet my mom and Lachlan. He’d been so nervous about making a good first impression. Not just because he’d always been a huge fan of Lachlan’s, but because of the nine-year age difference between us.
But my mom and Lachlan were the last people to judge a couple based on a difference in age. After all, Lachlan was thirteen years younger than my mom. Like she told me that night after Samuel left. Age was just a number. All that mattered was that he treated me right.
I told her he did.
What was I supposed to tell her now? How was I supposed to reconcile everything I now knew about Gideon Saint with the Samuel Tate who stole my heart?
I faced Henry as we reached the door. “Does he just expect me to hide his secret from everyone?”
“Knowing him like I do, I can all but guarantee he’d want you to do what you think is right.”
“What is right?”
“You need to make that decision for yourself.” He pulled out his wallet and handed me a card. “If you need anything, call me. I mean it, Imogene.” He gave me a concerned look. “If you notice anything out of the ordinary or suspicious, contact me immediately. No matter the time of day.”
His words only added to my growing anxiety. “Why? What’s going on, Henry? What aren’t you telling me?”
“Just…promise me.”
I glowered at him for several protracted moments, willing him to embellish further. But he remained as stoic as ever.
“Fine,” I finally conceded. “I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
“Thank you.”
He stepped back, but didn’t immediately retreat, remaining true to his promise to see I made it home safely.
It wasn’t until I punched my code into the door and slipped inside that he finally made his way back toward the driveway. Once he did, I released a long breath and leaned against the entryway wall, my mind reeling from how much of a turn this morning took.
All because I didn’t get in that elevator when I should have.