Thank you for your continued interest in my stories and for your kind regards.

I live on the island of Barbados and currently we are under twenty-four lock down.

The government has however, made concessions for its citizens, by allowing us two days to do grocery shopping, banking, etc. The only drawback is, they are going by surname.

For instance, my surname begins with H, so my days for the supermarket, hardware store, fish market etc, are, Thursdays between the hours of 8 am and 11 am and Mondays between the hours of 1 pm and 4 pm. My day for banking is Thursday, between the hours of 9 am and 1 pm.

(Same for those whose surnames begins with G, I, J and K). Our senior citizens are allotted two days, Sundays and Tuesdays.

The supermarket lines are extremely long and even longer, now that we have to stand the required six feet apart and in keeping with the rules, they can only let in twenty-five people at a time.

But during the course of waiting and say for instance, five people come out of the supermarket, they let five more in, and so on. So it's wise to queue early.

I queued from 6:25 am and got into the supermarket approximately 10 am.

I live five minutes away and I thought I was early. The moment I saw the line, my heart sunk. It had already lapped the building.

Anyway, thank you for continuing to show my stories love.

Standard disclaimer.

When I woke to the sound of Sam's phone alarming, I was alone in my bed.

Sam was already dressed and had apparently left the room, to get two coffees, one of which he was now handing me.

"You're a lifesaver," I said.

I sat up, keeping the sheet in place against my nakedness. I saw him glance at the top of my covered breasts and then looked away.

"Figured you'd need your caffeine."

"You figured right." I smiled and then took a long sip. He grinned back, and it didn't feel forced. This wasn't as awkward as I thought it might be, after last night.

"So, we just have until noon today, then we pack up what's left and hit the road."

"Sounds good. Maybe, I'll even get more studying done today."

Sam was acting a little too calm and too collected, I thought.

Like either, he was cool with what had happened between us, or he wasn't planning on bringing it up.

Fine with me. I didn't want to bring it up either. And I was cool with it.

I guess, part of me figured he'd want to discuss the whole relationship-status thing again, but maybe, he knew it wouldn't get us anywhere.

Or maybe, he'd finally realized, I wasn't going to be that girl. Even if he'd entertained that idea at some point.

So why did I feel so unsettled, so unfinished?

My stomach was in knots, and every time he looked at me, with those beautiful, soulful eyes, those knots changed to flutters.

Flutters so fierce, I felt them down to my toes.

And it made me afraid, to admit, that maybe, he didn't think I was good enough for him. That I wasn't girlfriend material, after all. And I guess, I really wasn't.

'So, get over yourself, Mercedes.'

I raised my coffee cup to him.

"Here's to not having anything to pack up, after the exhibit today."

Sam had done well yesterday, selling half a dozen of his drawings.

He clinked his cup against mine, grinned, and took a sip.

Seconds later, he started packing up the things around his bed. I stood up and adjusted the sheet to fit around me.

"I'm going to shower. I can be ready in twenty," I announced and felt his eyes on my body. I pushed back the flicker of desire, I felt low in my belly.

Last night, was all kinds of earth-shattering goodness.

I mean, he got me off with just his fingers. That's how worked up he made me.

And watching him come…the way his eyes became unfocused, his brow furrowed, his jaw clenched. Hot damn!

That image alone would be enough to last me…and my vibrator…a long while.

The crowd was thinner at the exhibit that day, and Sam and I fell into a comfortable silence.

I pulled out my nursing textbook and began reading chapter twenty-two, sitting in the chair beside him.

We still had the redhead staring at us across the way, but since Sam didn't seem to notice or even care, neither did I.

Something had shifted in the air between us, despite never discussing the previous night.

We had shared something so intimate, it gave me chill bumps, just thinking about it.

I was able to make him feel things…really powerful things…and somehow, that changed everything.

Even though I wasn't trying to be closer to him...not in that way...just in a friend kind of way.

And I'd keep telling myself that lie, until I believed it.

Because, I was so not ready for someone, as amazing as Sam Evans. And I never would be.

I was fucked up, and it wouldn't take him long to figure that out and hit the road running.

It didn't matter though, there was no chance of last night occurring ever again.

We'd had the perfect kind of storm brewing, that's why that happened, I told myself. The hotel room, the passionate couple in the hall, the intense talk on the ride up.

It was something that had happened, given our circumstances, and I'd be on high alert, to avoid a repeat occurrence.

Except, the truth of the matter was, I felt closer to Sam as a result.

Because, since coming on this trip, I've learned new and incredible things about him and I'm grateful for that.

He'd be an amazing friend for me to have. For anyone to have, really.

Sam's phone buzzed, and he fished it out of his pocket.

"Hi mom," he answered. And I heard her tinny voice and some of what she said, even though I tried not to listen.

She was asking, if he was coming for Sunday dinner.

"I told you, I had an art exhibit this weekend. So, I need to skip it this time." He listened as his mom's voice, changed to a frustrated tone.

"No, mom, I…" He huffed and listened some more.

"My friend Mercedes is with me, and I need to get her home." He turned his back to me, intent on more privacy, and I pretended to be immersed in my book.

"The twins will see me next week. No…okay, maybe. I'll ask her." He gritted his teeth.

"I'll let you know in a couple of hours. Good-bye, mom." I closed my book.

"You look as exasperated as I feel, when I talk to my mom."

"Yeah, well, she knows how to push all the right buttons." He sighed. "Guilt trips have always worked in her favor."

"Tell me about it," I mumbled. " Sorry, I wasn't trying to listen, but, were you supposed to do something with them today?"

"Our weekly dinner. You wouldn't by chance…" He rushed his fingers through hair. "Never mind."

"Ask me," I said, my pulse picking up speed. He took a deep breath.

"Would you mind stopping at my mom's house with me, on our drive back? I won't torture you with a family dinner, but if I stop in, I can at least see the twins and…check on things."

I could tell he was struggling with that last part…maybe, how I did with my own brother. Making sure he was okay...he was surviving...and he still felt loved.

"Of course, I'll go, Sam. No problem." The surprise in his eyes was evident.

"Cool, thank you."

We were packed up and on the road by twelve thirty.

Sam had sold one of his smaller drawings and he seemed satisfied.

I helped him wrap the rest of his artwork in butcher paper and bubble wrap and store them in the back of his jeep.

"Mind if we go to a drive-through? I'm starving."

"Me, too," I said, and got comfy in my seat, by removing my shoes and propping my feet up on the dash.

He pulled into a McDonald's and we got two burgers, sodas, and fries to share.

"After that greasy food last night and now this, I'm going to have to eat salads for the rest of the week," I said.

"See, that's the beauty of working out," he said, biting into his burger. "I can eat what I want, as long as I work it off at the gym."

"Yeah, and I'm pretty sure your genes have nothing at all to do with it," I said, rolling my eyes, as I kept my gaze away from his muscular biceps, in that blue T-shirt.

We got back on the road and downed the rest of our burgers.

I ended up feeding Sam my fries, only because he grabbed my hand, after it came out of the bottom of the bag.

When his tongue touched my finger tips, I held my breath.

"More, please," he said, gobbling up the fries.

"What am I, your servant today?" Heat was pulsing low in my belly. "Grab your own damn fries."

"Hey, I'm the chauffeur, so it's only fair," he said, yanking the fast-food bag onto his lap and digging in. Around a mouthful of fries, he said,

"Want to play Five Fingers again, to pass the time?" I wasn't sure if that was such a good idea, but he seemed like he was in a good mood, so I went with it.

"Sure."

"Okay," he said, wiping his fingers on the napkin I handed him.

I resisted the urge to pull them in my mouth, one by one and suck the salt off.

"Me first," he started. I nodded and then braced my hands on my knees. "Tell me about that tattoo behind your ear."

My back went rigid.

I got the tattoo in that location, so that few people would ever notice it.

It meant something to me. It represented a time in my life, that I'd needed to be strong. The time I made a conscious decision, to never be fragile again.

But somehow, around Sam, I felt all kinds of weak. And that scared me.

Here goes nothing.

"Eighteen…Gaelic symbol…means survive."

Sam's eyebrows rose to his hairline, as he considered my answer.

I held my breath, as he thought about it for a long moment.

Then his fingers reached for my hair and I felt my skin pebble beneath his touch.

Keeping one hand on the wheel, he brushed the strands over my shoulder, exposing my ear, so he could get a glimpse of the tattoo again.

I was waiting for him to say something…anything…like it sucked, it was ugly, or it was poorly designed. But he didn't breathe one word.

"You probably could have done a better job," I mumbled.

"Nah...but, it would be cool to ink something else on you, though."

Sparks flickered inside me, as I imagined how sexy that would be. Lying on his table, letting his fingers work their magic on me.

"That reminds me," I said, glad for the distraction. "My friend Marley needs an appointment with you. She's wanted a tattoo forever, but always chicken out."

"Happens to a lot of people. Cool, guess I'll be seeing her soon."

"Okay, back to our game," I said, and he glanced over at me. "Turnabout is fair play. Your tattoos?"

His cheeks turned up into this, ridiculously sexy smile, as if he was recounting our night together.

And I too, as I thought about seeing his tattoos on his stark naked body.

'Damn!' I crossed my legs and squeezed my thighs together.

He cleared his throat two times.

"An hourglass and a poem."

Drat! He got out of that too easily.

I knew the hourglass was on his lower back, and it seemed to resemble the one in the drawing, I liked so much.

And the scripted letters…the poem…was on his rib cage. But I needed more information.

"Can I see the poem?" His eyes expanded.

"What…now?" I shrugged.

"We've got the time."

He swallowed thickly and his eyes became hooded.

Shit! Maybe, this wasn't such a good idea.

But I've been curious about the tattoo on his rib cage, for weeks.

Sam's eyes met mine, and he nodded, ever so slightly.

I unbuckled my seat belt and slid closer to him.

He white knuckled the steering wheel, like he'd crash, if he didn't pay more attention to the road.

Thankfully, the tattoo was on the side closest to me.

With shaky fingers, I lifted his T-shirt, and he sucked in a breath.

The poem was written in a heavy black script and it curved inward, in the shape of a mini tornado.

It reminded me of his drawing from the exhibit.

I moved my face closer to his skin and noticed how his chest rose and fell in quick succession.

How my breath caused goose bumps to break out over his smooth flesh.

I found the beginning of the poem, which was marked by a small star and read it aloud.

"Unfurl your muscles. Slip off your skin. Drop your guts in a heap on the floor." I felt my airway constrict. Damn! This was deep. I continued.

"Nuzzle inside the hollow of my bones. Let our breaths mingle as one. Turn liquid for me. Only for me. Bury your essence inside of my soul."

I sat up and let the fabric of his shirt fall back into place.

I was lightheaded, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth.

I stared straight ahead, at the cars in front of us, on the freeway, trying to digest what I had just read, of that beautiful, multilayered poem.

"Sam...that's just...wow," I said, trying to meet his eyes, but he kept them trained on the road. "What does it mean to you?"

"I believe it's my turn, Ms. Jones."

"No! Time out, Sam," I said, gritting my teeth. "I really want to know. Please, tell me."

He stared at me for a lengthy moment, then back at the road again, before answering.

"It's written by a modern-day poet," he said, almost reluctantly. "And it's a reminder to me…of two very different kinds of love."

I held my breath, praying for him to keep going.

This man, this gorgeous man, continued to astound me at every turn.

I pleaded with my eyes for him to continue.

"There's the kind of love that's unhealthy, all-consuming. You give up entirely who you are, for that other person. Like my mother has done her whole damn life."

He took a deep and meaningful breath.

"And the other kind of love, is freeing. It allows you to be your best self. You're seamless, when you're with the person you love unfathomably…but never invisible."

As I sat there listening to him, something profound happened in the very center of me.

Stuff began rearranging and clicking into place.

And my heart burst through my chest and landed at Sam's feet…asking, pleading, begging him, to smooth out its creases, soothe all its wounded parts, mend its shattered center. I couldn't even talk any sense into it.

"Why aren't you saying anything?" he whispered and gave me a nervous sidelong glance.

"Because I have no words," I said, still in awe of him. "What you just said…it…it left me…breathless."

We didn't speak for long minutes afterwards, both of us lost in our own thoughts.

I waited for my heart to get its butt home, back inside my chest, so I could breathe freely again.

Sam was the first to speak.

"Why the word survive?" He was speaking about my tattoo again.

He had shared some deep beliefs with me. It was only fair that I opened myself up, too. At least a little.

Although, I'll admit, he was way braver than me.

"Because, I survived my mother. Growing up with her and all her... men. Her shit. Her selfishness."

'Her betrayal,' I left out. I huffed out a breath.

"And I hope against hope...that I can help my baby brother survive that woman, too." He grabbed my hand, tugged it towards him, and squeezed it.

"Thank you, Mercedes, for sharing that." It was like, he knew how tough it was, to open myself up to him.

Damn! He got me sometimes.

"My family lives just off this exit," Sam said, pointing east. "You ready for this?"

"I'm ready," I said, fidgeting with my seatbelt strap.

Meeting Sam's family?

What the hell was I thinking?

He pulled into the first development, off the exit and then, down the second side street.

The house was ranch style, with peeling paint and half-dead flowers in the garden.

But it had a sweet, white picket fence, that surrounded the property, and the lawn looked freshly cut.

We waited at the door, as Sam knocked.

"Why didn't you use your key, honey?"

A lady who was unmistakably his mother, swung open the door.

But, she looked slightly different from the picture I had seen in his apartment.

Her hair was a mess, her blouse wrinkled, and a cigarette hung from her lips, like she needed a long drag, to help soothe her nerves.

Hell, if she didn't remind me of my own mother.

"Mom, this is Mercedes," Sam said, as we stepped inside.

"Nice to meet you," I said, my palms sweaty and slick.

I wondered what this family would think of me and my friendship with Sam.

I was glad, I at least put on mascara and ran a brush through my curly hair this morning.

Not that, I should want to look presentable for them. Or pretty.

"Sammy!" the twins sang in unison and came bounding down the stairs. They looked almost identical, with the same blonde hair.

"Sammy?" I mouthed to him and he narrowed his eyes at me.

"Stacie! Stevie!" he said, picking each child up and twirling them around. "Guys, this is my friend Mercedes," Sam announced.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Mrs. Evans asked, running her cigarette butt under the faucet, before pitching it in the garbage can under the sink.

Well, at least she knew about fire safety. But all that second-hand smoke around these kids.

Who was I kidding? I was probably a walking billboard, for what a parent's second-hand smoke did to you.

"Got anything with caffeine?" I asked.

"Diet Coke?"

"Perfect. Thank you."

I looked around the kitchen.

It was a wreck.

Toys were everywhere, the counters were cluttered, and the dishes were piled a mile high.

Sam came around the corner with a handful of toys.

"Haven't the twins been doing their chores?" he asked, looking at the kitchen sink. "Mom, you've got to enforce that stuff."

She fished another cigarette out of her pack.

"They haven't been listening to me."

"Stevie! Stacie! Start on the dishes," Sam said, in an authoritative voice. "Now!"

I've never heard him sound like that, and it took me by surprise. But it was so damn sexy.

The twins dragged themselves to the sink, both sets of eyes glaring at him.

"Do they listen to Henry?" Sam asked.

"Yeah." His mother sighed. "When he's here."

"Hmm."

"He's been working a lot of hours," his mother interjected. "Don't start, Sam. You know he's a good man."

"Just making sure, mom," he replied, narrowing his eyes.

"How do you and Sam know each other?" Mrs. Evans asked, turning her attention to me.

"We live in the same building and attend the same university," I said.

"She's an LPN…which is a kind of nurse," Sam said, placing his hand on the small of my back. "She's working on her RN degree."

Sam's warm fingers made me flinch, but I also liked his hand there. It felt protective, and I felt safe. And I wasn't sure I wanted him to remove it.

His gesture didn't go unnoticed by his mother, either.

"How are you doing with homework, guys?" Sam asked the twins. "You keeping up?"

"Yes. Henry's been helping us." Stacie said, wiping a dish with a soapy sponge.

Henry. The stepfather. It sounded like he might be involved with these kids.

I shivered, remembering Tom taking an interest in my school work, and hoped Henry's intentions were sincere.

I noticed the siblings spoke, as if their mother wasn't even in the room.

And she didn't seem to mind at all.

In fact, she had planted herself at the kitchen table, with another cigarette and a soda.

At least, I hoped that was, what's in her glass.

It reminded me so much of home, that I wanted to slap her silly and tell her to get ahold of her family and her responsibilities.

Now, I understood why Sam felt so damn accountable for this family.

"We've gotta head back soon, mom," Sam said.

"I'll let Henry know you'll be here next week," she said. "He'll be disappointed you didn't stay. He'd planned on grilling steaks and chicken for dinner."

I wondered again, about this Henry guy and whether he was a decent man. I felt protective of the twins…especially Stacie.

"I need to check on something upstairs," Sam said to me, and then, "Do you mind? I'll be right back down."

"No problem," I said, looking at some of the kids' artwork on the refrigerator.

The twins were still washing dishes and arguing about some video game, as I watched Sam make his way upstairs, and then, I turned to his mother.

I wasn't even sure what to say to her.

Like with my own mother, I was pretty sure we had nothing in common.

"He's smitten with you," Mrs. Evans said, out of the blue, puffing out a ring of smoke. "Hope you're not a heart breaker."

"We're…we're just friends."

"Sure you are." She took a sip of her drink. "I see how he looks at you."

"I'm not really sure what to say to that."

"He doesn't bring any girls around here," she said and then sighed. "He's a good boy."

"I agree," I said and sat in the chair across from her. "The best."

"Well, he's needed around here…a lot," she said, her voice wavering. "So, he doesn't have time to get all caught up in some girl."

What she's really saying is, that she continues and will continue to lean on her son, instead of relying on herself and that, just made my blood boil.

"I hear you loud and clear," I said, meeting her hard gaze.

She puffed her cigarette and turned away. Like she'd said her piece and was done with me.

"He's an adult now," I said, more for Sam's sake than for hers. And maybe, a little for mine, too. "He's bound to make his own life, and live his own dreams."

I looked up and saw Sam, paused on the top step of the staircase. His brows were drawn together.

"You starting stuff, mom?" The question was one, he'd probably asked her a thousand times, and I realized, it wasn't my place to be here, saying anything at all.

They had a long history together, and even though, I thought I understood it, I knew there was plenty more I didn't.

"Everything's cool, Sam," I said standing up. "It was nice meeting your family. I'll wait in the jeep." At that, I exited the house and went to the jeep.

When Sam came outside, his face was drawn, and his jaw set tight.

As he backed out of the driveway, he said,

"I'm sorry I brought you here."

"I'm not." I placed my hand on his arm and felt him twitch. He was really tensed.

"Thankfully, Sam, neither one of us is defined by our families," I said, staring out the side window, my hand now on his leg, slowly rubbing it.

And just like that, I felt him relax beside me.

Welcome HarleyQ93. I'm glad you're enjoying this story. Thank you for your kind words and for adding this to your list of favorites.

Stay home, stay safe and stay blessed.