Trigger Warnings: Smut Standard Disclaimer for this whole work: I own nothing all credit goes to Lena Diaz and maybe a few credits goes to Fox's Glee creative team.

Chapter Twelve

Cedes's mouth fell open, Sam's angry words repeating themselves in her mind as the sound of his boots rang through the house. Wind suddenly howled outside the bedroom door, followed by a metallic thump. He'd gone outside, in the middle of a lightning storm. Because of her.

Oh, God, what had she done?

She shoved off the bed, hopping down to the floor just as the lights flickered and went out. Letting her memory of the house's layout guide her, she flung the door open and ran down the hall into the main room. She froze at a loud pinging sound against the glass.

"It's just the storm." Sam's deep voice spoke from the dark. "It's finally raining. The wind is driving it in sheets against the back of the house."

She turned toward his voice, but the room was too dark to make out anything but silhouettes. He was standing by the fireplace, one of his booted feet resting on the raised hearth, a hand braced against the mantel.

She turned, looking for one of the lamps she'd seen earlier.

"Don't bother." He spoke from the gloom again, his voice already drained of anger, sounding flat, emotionless. "The power just went out."

She started toward him, then let out a curse when her shin banged the coffee table.

"Wait there," he said.

He bent down, but she couldn't tell what he was doing. Light flared, like from a long match. Then a small fire began to grow in the fireplace. He must have had it set up with kindling and logs, ready to go, because it quickly caught and grew into a roaring fire. The flames threw a flickering, eerie light across his features and through the room.

He turned his back on her. "Go to sleep, Cedes. The house is sturdy. You don't need to be afraid of the storm."

The coward inside her, the one who'd never picked up the phone or tried to talk to him for all those years, urged her to do as he said. But coming back to Destiny had changed her irrevocably, had reawakened feelings long ago buried, had made her realize just how her actions had impacted those around her. Running away, going back home without making things right, wasn't something she could do now. She had to face what she'd done. All of it. And that meant facing Sam one more time.

She circled the coffee table and crossed the room to stand directly behind him.

"Sam, you didn't let me finish explaining why I told you no."

He sighed wearily. "I've heard enough."

"Maybe you have. But there's one more thing I have to tell you. It might not matter to you. But it matters to me. I realize how much I've hurt people by leaving when I did, by running away. And I'm trying to make it right the only way I know how, by telling the truth. There might not be any proof of what really happened that night with Cooper. But when this storm is over and the sun comes up, I'm going to call the chief and tell him to come get me so I can give a full statement. Because it's not just about me. It's about Cooper's father, and his brother. They deserve to know what I know. Someone killed their loved one that night, and they need to know my role in it, if nothing else, so they can expend their energy looking for the right killer."

He turned his head, hand braced on the mantel, boot still resting on the hearth. But at least he was listening.

"I already explained why I turned down your proposal," she continued. "But I didn't explain why I left. Cooper was dead. So there wasn't any worry by then that you'd get in trouble fighting or going after him."

He frowned. "I wondered at that, after I left the bedroom."

The fact that he was at least talking with her now gave her hope. She plodded forward. "I left because I thought I'd killed Cooper. I've thought that all this time, until you proved to me today that I didn't kill him. I left because I knew that if I stayed in town, you would do everything you could to help me. And I wouldn't be strong enough to resist you for very long. I talked it through with Mama and we both agreed, the only way to protect you was for me to leave."

He shook his head in disgust. "There you go talking about protecting me again. Don't you realize that's my job? To protect you?" He looked back toward the fireplace. "Or it would have been. If you'd stayed."

"Exactly."

He frowned and looked at her again.

"That's my point," she said. "You would have felt it was your duty to protect me, even after I'd turned you down. Because that's how you are, a wonderful, good, loyal, kind man who would protect the woman he loved even if she was a murderer. Even if it cost him his career."

He swore again. "We're right back where we started. Cedes, you're way more important to me than any job. Don't you get that?"

"Actually, yeah, I do. Now. You've ignored your boss's calls all day and risked everything to be here with me, to keep me from confessing back in town. You're doing exactly what I tried to prevent by running away in the first place."

He shook his head.

She stepped closer, placing her hand on his chest, feeling his muscles bunch beneath her fingertips. "But I'm not running this time. I'm not going anywhere. I love you, Sam. And we're both adults now. I don't know if you can ever forgive me for not trusting you and giving you the chance to make your own decisions about your future all those years ago. But I'm hoping you can at least try."

His gaze dropped to her hand. "It's been a long time, Cedes. A lot has happened since then. I don't know that I want to go down that same road, risk you crushing me like you did. It took me years to get over you. But I'm happy now. I like my life, enjoy my family, this house, the life I've built. I'm not sure you fit in anymore."

She smoothed her hand over his shirt, her hand shaking, sadness welling up inside her. "I'm not asking you to fit me back into your life. I'm asking you to work on trying to forgive me. And then maybe we'll see where we go from there."

Slowly, as if he wasn't sure what she'd do, he moved his left hand toward her face, then gently stroked her face.

"Still as soft as ever," he whispered.

"Still so handsome you can stop a girl's heart with one look," she whispered, smiling up at him.

His mouth twitched. "That handsome, huh? Sounds dangerous."

"You have no idea." She moved closer, until her breasts pressed against his ribs.

His lids lowered to half-mast. His hand shook as he continued to stroke her skin. "I don't think this is a good idea, Cedes. We haven't settled anything at all between us."

"You're right. Nothing's settled. But we've had an incredible run. And I can't think of a better way to say goodbye—if this is goodbye—than to share ourselves with each other one last time. It sure beats how we ended things last time. How I ended things. Let's write a better ending to our story than walking away from each other angry and bitter. We deserve that. Sam and Cedes deserve that. Don't you think?"

In answer he groaned and yanked her to him, his mouth slamming down on top of hers. Heat filled her, warming her from the inside out. She struggled to get closer to him, standing on her tiptoes. He lifted her with one hand beneath her bottom, setting her feet on the edge of the hearth, the roaring fire warming her back, Sam warming everything else.

This kiss was nothing like the one he'd given her earlier. That one had been distant, questioning. He'd held back. He wasn't holding anything back this time. And even though she'd always thought they had something special between them, comparing everything before to this was like comparing a candle to an out-of-control wildfire.

Thunder boomed overhead. Lightning lit up the house like broad daylight. But it barely registered in her mind. There was only room in her thoughts for Sam and how he made her feel. She twisted against him, her tongue tangling with his, her fingers sliding down between them, eagerly working at the buttons on his shirt.

Groaning deep in his throat, he lifted her again, striding across the room to the big leather couch. He gently lowered her back onto the cushions, following her down, down until his delicious weight pressed against her. Every inch of her body was plastered to his, and it felt so good she stretched, rubbing the side of her calf against his hip as they kissed and kissed and kissed. It was as if they were trying to catch up on every moment they'd lost in the years they'd been apart. And neither of them could bear to stop long enough to shed a single item of clothing.

Desperate for more, she reached between them and fumbled with his belt. She managed to get his jeans unzipped, and then she slid her eager fingers inside. His entire body shivered as she filled her hands with him. He broke their kiss, gasping for breath, already rock hard, his hips jerking against her.

Then he was sliding his own hands down her body, and they were like two frantic teenagers all over again, working at each other's jeans, only managing to get half-undressed before he was poised at her entrance, pushing against her.

He swore and pulled back.

She wrapped her knees around him, trying to pull him down again.

He laughed, his harsh breath rasping against her ears. "Hold it. Just give me a second, sweetheart."

The sound of foil tearing jolted her out of the haze of passion enveloping her. A condom. Had he kept it in his pocket? That thought had her remembering the interns he'd dated and she stiffened beneath him. But then he was pressing against her again and all her jealousies evaporated beneath the need to have him inside her, filling her. She'd wanted this for so long, with him, and nothing was going to spoil it.

And then he was inside her, and it was even more wonderful than she'd remembered. Her body knew Sam's, yearned for his, as if they'd been made for each other. Every thrust was met with an answering arch of her hips, heightening her pleasure, making his heart gallop faster in his chest where it pressed against hers.

He braced his forearms on the cushions, keeping the full weight of him from crushing her as he made love to her. And she took full advantage of the space between them, sliding her hands up beneath his shirt, relearning his contours, every muscle, every dip. She wanted to slide down his body, taste him, stroke him. But that would have to wait. The delicious things he was doing to her, his clever fingers caressing her as he thrust inside her, were bowing her body back against the couch.

Panting, she drew her knees up on either side of him, twisting, arching, her fingers curling on the leather couch as she strained with him to reach that pinnacle of pleasure she knew was waiting for her.

He leaned down and captured her mouth with his, his back arched, his hips bucking against hers. And then, with one clever stroke of his body and his hand, she came undone in his arms, crying out his name as she exploded in a shower of ecstasy around him.

His powerful body thrust into her several more times, wrenching every last bit of pleasure from her that he could, all while he worshiped her mouth with his. Then he stiffened, his body spasming inside hers as his own climax washed over him. His fingers tightened on her bottom, clinging to her as he spent himself. And then, ever so slowly, like embers from fireworks floating to the ground, he lowered himself to the couch, turning with her in his arms.

They lay there, holding on to each other tightly, their hearts racing, breath coming out in harsh pants until their bodies began to cool and they could once again breathe without rasping.

She kissed the base of his throat, and he whispered romantic words in her ear, making her hot all over again. A few minutes later, he left her long enough to clean up. She should have gotten up, too. But she felt like her bones had turned to water and couldn't bring herself to do more than pull up her panties and jeans and collapse back onto the couch.

Then he was there, fully clothed again, like her, pulling her into his arms as he cradled her against his chest on the couch.

"I'll carry you into the bedroom when I get my strength back," he promised. Seconds later, he was softly snoring.

She smiled, then closed her eyes and joined him.

The sound of the thunder booming, startled Cedes out of a deep sleep. She jerked upright in the dark, confusion clouding her mind as she tried to remember where she was. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating the family room for a brief second. She let out a breath of surprise. She was on the couch. But Sam wasn't with her. Had he gone to bed and left her there? No, as soon as that thought occurred to her, she pushed it away. He was probably in the bathroom, or maybe in the kitchen getting a late-night snack.

She swung her legs over the side of the couch and stood, expecting to see him standing on the other side of the island, maybe grabbing a couple of drinks out of the refrigerator.

"Sam?" She squinted in the dark. "Where are you?"

He didn't answer.

"Sam?"

She felt her way through the house, checking the three bedrooms, yanking blinds open so the moonlight and lightning would help her see. One of the bedrooms was set up like an office. But she didn't find any sign of him. Worry began to coil in her stomach. She tried a light switch, but the house remained dark. The power was still out. Maybe he was in the garage, checking the fuses. Yes, that made sense. That's what she'd do if the power was out.

She hurried through the family room to the left side of the house, which boasted a powder room, a laundry room and a three-car garage. Lightning flashing through the glass panes in the garage door showed her that he had a Jeep parked inside. But there was no Sam to be seen. Where else could he be?

Real fear began to gnaw at her. She ran back into the family room, turning in a wide circle.

"Sam, where are you? This isn't funny. Sam?"

Again, nothing.

Had he gone outside in this wretched storm? She couldn't think of any reason for him to do that. But maybe he liked watching the rain. Her mom always had. Yes, that was it. There was an enormous wraparound porch on the front and sides of the house. She ran to the door and jerked it open. The front porch was empty, except for some man-size rocking chairs on either end.

"Sam," she yelled out into the yard. "Where are you?" The wind seemed to capture her words and snatch them away.

His truck remained parked just a few feet from the steps. Empty.

Panic had her fairly flying through the house again, checking every room, every closet, even looking beneath beds. Finally she stopped in the middle of his bedroom. She had to acknowledge what she'd been trying to avoid all along. He was gone. Something must have happened to him.

She couldn't fathom what that might be. All she was sure of was that he must be in danger. And she needed help to find him. She ran back into the main room and grabbed her purse to get her phone. But her phone wasn't there. She frowned. Had she left her phone at her mother's house? She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen it.

A landline. There had to be a landline in the house somewhere. No, she hadn't seen any phones either time she'd run through the house. What was she supposed to do now? Lightning lit up the back wall of windows again, illuminating the back deck. Could he be out there? It was the only place she hadn't looked.

She ran to the sliding door. The storm was getting worse, blowing rain in great sheets. She peered out at the darkness.

Thunder boomed overhead, and a brilliant flash of lightning lit up the deck before plunging everything into darkness. Wait, something was off. What had she seen? She leaned forward, peering in the moonlight. Part of the deck seemed charred. From the lightning? It flashed again, and she let out a startled scream. There was a large handprint on the glass. And it was covered in blood.