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Standard disclaimer: I do not own Glee or the characters and I do not own Fall With Me
The driver's door of the black truck opened smoothly, and my heart...my damn, traitorous bitch of a heart...skipped a beat, as a long denim-clad leg appeared, along with flip-flops, with a tan leather thong.
Why did I have to have a thing for guys, who were ballsy enough to wear flip-flops?
Because, damn, I really did think, they are entirely sexy paired with faded jeans.
Another leg appeared, and the door blocked the torso for a moment...only a moment.
The door closed, and I got an eyeful of a worn Metallica shirt, which did very little, to hide a well-defined, totally, yummy-in-my-tummy six-pack.
The shirt was practically mating with his stomach, clinging to each ripple.
It was doing the same to his biceps, essentially taunting me.
You know something? That shirt was being a spiteful man-bitch.
I dragged my gaze up over broad shoulders...the kind of shoulders that could bear the brunt of the weight of the world...and had.
My gaze reached his face and he was rocking some sexy black sunglasses, and looking damn good doing so.
God, Sam looked great in casual clothes...panties-on-fire hot when he was wearing his police uniform, and when he was naked, he could seriously induce a visual orgasm.
And I'd seen him naked. Well, sort of...okay, I totally saw his goods, and they were goodie-gumdrops kind of good.
Sam was classically handsome, the kind of guy with the bone structure, that had my fingers itching to sketch.
His angular cheekbones, full lips, and an honest-to-God jawline, could cut cheesecakes all day long.
And he was a cop, serving and protecting, and there was just something entirely bad-ass hot about that.
Unfortunately, I also hated him, absolutely loathed him.
Ah, well, most of the time.
Sometimes.
Pretty much whenever I gazed upon his perfection and started lusting after him. Yeah, that's when I hated him.
My girlie parts were feeling that vibe right now, meaning in this moment, I disliked him.
So, as I tightened my hand on the tote bag I carried, I popped out a hip like I'd seen San, a...well, an odd friend of mine do, when she was about to deliver a verbal smackdown.
"What are you doing here?" I demanded, and then, promptly shivered...shivered in the hundred-degree temperature, because, I hadn't spoken to Sam in over eleven months.
Well, not counting the words Fuck off, because, I'd probably said that to him, about four hundred times in the last eleven months, but whatever.
Light brows shot up, over the frame of his sunglasses.
A moment passed and then he chuckled, as if what I said was the most amusing thing ever.
"How about you actually say hi to me first?" he asked.
Curse words would've flown from my tongue, like birds migrating south for winter, if he hadn't caught me off guard.
I had asked a totally valid question.
From what I knew, he has never, in the six years I've been seeing Kurt, visited the facility.
But a smidgen of guilt bloomed and my momma raised me better than this. I forced out a "Hi."
He pursed his well-formed lips and said nothing.
My eyes narrowed from behind my sunglasses.
"Hello...Officer Evans?"
A moment passed, as he cocked his head to the side.
"I'm not on duty, Mercedes."
Oh man, the way he said my name. Mercedes. How he curled his tongue around the word. I had no idea how, but it made me all squishy in areas, that so did not need the squishiness.
When he didn't say anything else though, I was close to punching myself in my girlie areas, because, he was seriously going to make me do this.
"Hel-lo-o" I drew the word out. "Sam."
Those lips curved up at the corners, a smile that said he was proud and he should be.
Me saying his name at this point, was a major accomplishment on his part, and if I had a reward cookie for him, I'd shove it right in his face.
"Was that so hard?" he asked.
"Yes. It was hard," I told him. "It blackened a part of my soul."
A laugh erupted from him, which surprised the hell out of me.
"Your soul is all rainbows and puppy dog tails, babe."
I snorted.
"My soul is deep and dark and full of other infinite meaningless things."
"Meaningless things?" he repeated, with another deep laugh, as he reached up and scrubbed his fingers through his blonde hair.
It was cropped close on the sides, but a little longer on top, than most cops had.
"Well, if that's the truth, it hasn't always been that way."
The easy, somewhat...okay, totally...charming grin eased off his mouth and his lips formed a flat line.
"Yeah, it wasn't always like that," he ended.
The next breath hitched in my throat.
Sam and I...we've known each other for a long time.
When I was a freshman in high school, he was a junior, and even back then, he'd been everything a girl could obsess over, and I'd crushed on him hard.
I drew hearts with his name in the center, my earliest and lamest doodles, across my notebook and treasured every time he'd smiled at me, or looked in my direction.
I'd been way too young and didn't run in his circles, but he'd always been kind to me.
Probably had to do with the fact that, he and his older brother, along with his parents, had moved into the house next door to my childhood home.
Anyway, he has always been good to me and to Kurt.
And when he left to join the Marines at eighteen, I was heartbroken...utterly devastated, because, I'd convinced myself we'd get married and populate the world with lots of babies.
Those years he was gone had been hard, and I'd never forget the day my mom had called me, to tell me he was injured while at war.
My heart had stopped and it took a long time for that suffocating ball of dread to lift, even after we were assured that he'd be okay.
When he finally came home, I was old enough not to be considered jail-bait and we'd actually become friends...close...good friends.
I have been there for him during the worse moments of his life.
Those terrible nights he'd drunk himself into a stupor or become so moody, he was like a caged lion ready to bite the hand off anyone, who approached him...anyone except me.
But then, one night, with too much whiskey, had ruined everything.
I had spent years infatuated with Sam, always believing he was unobtainable, and no matter what had transpired between us that night, he would still never be mine.
Frustrated with where my thoughts had gone, I resisted the urge to chuck my tote at him.
"Why in the world are we talking about my soul?" I asked.
One broad shoulder rose.
"You brought it up."
I opened my mouth to argue, but he was right, I had and that was kind of weird.
A fine sheen of sweat had broken out across my forehead.
"Why are you here?" I asked.
Two steps and his long legs ate up the distance between us.
My toes curled against my sandals, as I forced myself not to whirl around and scurry away.
Sam was tall, coming in around six feet three inches, and I was an unofficial member of the Lollipop Guild.
His size was a wee bit intimidating, also a tiny bit sexy.
"It's about Patrick Karofsky."
In a split second, I forgot about the messy history he and I shared and the current shininess of my soul, as I stared up at him.
"What?"
"He's out of jail, Mercedes."
The sweat turned to sleet on my skin.
"I...I know he is. He's been out for a couple of months. I kept up with the parole hearings. I..."
"I know," he said quietly, intensely, and my stomach dropped to the ground.
"You didn't go to his last parole hearing, when he was released," he said.
That was more of a statement, than a question, but I still shook my head.
I'd gone to the one before that, but had been barely able to stomach the sight of Patrick Karofsky.
And from how the talk was cycling around, there had been a good chance he'd be released at the next hearing and low and behold, he had been.
Rumor had it, that he found God or something like that while in prison. Good for him.
But it didn't change what he had done.
Sam took off his sunglasses and startling green eyes met mine.
"I went to the hearing."
Surprised, I took a step back.
My mouth opened, but there were no words.
I hadn't known that...it hadn't even crossed my mind that he would do that, or even why he would.
His gaze remained latched to mine.
"During the hearing, he asked to..." he started.
"No," I said...almost shouted. "I know what he wanted. I heard what he wanted to do if he got out, and no. No times a billion. No. And the court can't give that kind of permission anyway."
Sam's expression softened and something close to pity filled his eyes.
"I know, but sweetheart, you also know, you don't have any say over it either, do you?" There was a pause. "He wants to make amends, Mercedes."
My free hand tightened into a fist, as helplessness rose like a swarm of bees inside me.
"He can't make amends for what he did."
"I agree."
It took me a moment, as I stared up at him, to realize what he was getting at, and it was like the ground shifted under my feet.
"No," I whispered, my stomach twisting into knots. "Please tell me that Kurt's parents did not give him permission. Please."
A muscle tightened along the strong curve of his jaw.
"I wish I could tell you that, but I can't. They did, just this morning. I heard about it through Karofsky's probation officer."
Raw emotion poured into my chest, and I turned to the side, not wanting Sam to see it.
I couldn't believe it.
My brain refused to process, that Kurt's parents had given that...that bastard permission to visit him.
How incredibly callous and crude and just so wrong.
Kurt was the way he was now, because, of that homophobic asshole.
Those knots spun tighter in my stomach, and there was a good chance I was going to puke.
Sam's hand folded over my shoulder, causing me to jump, but he didn't remove his hand and the weight of it there, had something grounding about it.
A tiny part of me was grateful for the pressure and it reminded me of how it used to be between us.
"I thought it would be better for you to hear it first and not be sidelined by it," he said.
I squeezed my eyes shut and my words were hoarse.
"Thank you."
He kept his hand there, as another moment stretched out between us.
"That's not all. He wants to talk to you."
My body jerked out of his reach on its own accord. And I faced him again.
"No. I do not want to see him."
In a second, that night came roaring back, and I backpedaled, bouncing into the side of my car.
Things had started out lightly...joking...teasing. Then, everything escalated so quickly, so badly.
"No way."
"You don't have to," Sam said.
He moved towards me, but drew up short, lowering his hand to his side.
"But you needed to know. I'll tell his officer that he needs to steer clear of you. Or else..."
The 'or else' barely registered, as was the low threat to his deep voice.
My heart pounded in my chest, and I suddenly needed to be far away from here...to be alone...to process this development.
Edging along the passenger side of my car, I brought the tote bag up to my chest, like some kind of shield.
"I...I have to go."
"Mercedes..." Sam called out.
I made it around the front of my car, but somehow, like a ninja or something, he was in front of me.
His sunglasses were still off and he was focused on me, his eyes a clear precise green.
Both of his hands landed on my shoulders, and it was like sticking my finger in an electrical socket.
In spite of the news he'd just delivered, I felt the weight of his hands in every cell, and I don't know if he felt it too, but his fingers curved, anchoring me in.
"What happened to Kurt," he said, voice low. "It wasn't your fault, Mercedes."
My stomach flopped, as I broke free, and he didn't stop me this time, as I darted around him and all but yanked open the car door and threw myself in behind the wheel.
My chest rose and fell heavily, as I stared at him through the windshield.
He stood in front of my car for a few seconds, and for a moment, I thought he was going to climb in the car with me, but then, he shook his head, as he slipped his sunglasses on.
I watched him turn and stalk his way to his truck, and only then did I speak.
"Mother pucker," I spat at the steering wheel, as I gripped it with shaky hands.
I didn't know what the worst thing, that had happened was...a fact that Kurt hadn't acknowledged me again...that Patrick Karofsky had gotten permission to visit Kurt...or the fact that I was reminded, that I wasn't sure if Sam was right.
Because, even I didn't know, if what happened to Kurt, was really my fault...or not.
Stay safe!