LPOV

After I learned that Sam didn't trust me, I went into the house. I rinsed out my mouth and started reading on the couch. I had an assignment due next week that I hadn't completed yet. So why not make headway now?

Sam came in, his feet wet from hosing off my vomit. He sat down next to me. "I am an idiot. I'm sorry," he said, looking at me. I continued reading. He sat there doing nothing for a while, just watching me. I read the next assigned chapter and took notes for the paper.

I got up, brought in the table that was left outside. I put the snack plates in the sink. Then I started to prepare supper. I couldn't even process my anger.

I was cutting veggies on the counter. He was leaning on the counter a few feet away. I hated how sexy he was.

"Emily fucked Paul," he said casually. "I was going to tell you after Emily weekend but then she… Well, she died, and then he was so torn up about it. He was boyfriend material and you were so touched. And you didn't even know that they fucked, did you?"

I shook my head.

"I didn't mean to not tell you. I just hadn't thought about it since she died. But I think it's been in the back of my mind, swimming around and forming unconscious thoughts. Paul has gotten every girl he's ever set out to, every girl except you. And he says shit… I don't know if he means it or if he just says it to get a rise out of me. I don't know."

He sighed and shifted his weight on his legs. I hated how Sam's muscles rippled with every movement. It made me so mad.

"It wasn't about you though, Lee-lee. It was about him."

"Unless you thought he was going to rape me, it was about me," I said, chopping faster, angrily. "And you know he wouldn't rape me so…."

"It really is more about him, though, like has he ever hit on you?" Sam asked.

"Not exactly. He's said some shit that has made me uncomfortable, like flirting or flattery I guess, but he's never made a pass at me. He's never asked me out."

"He really does have a perfect track record, outside of you."

"Did you ever ask anyone else out?" I asked. Sam didn't see that question coming.

"What?" His whole face was perplexed.

"To dances or the movies or anything? Were there other girls that you ever asked out?"

"No! Why would I? What are you talking about? I was only ever interested in you. You know that! You have to know that, Leah!" His voice was furious. His face was enraged. There was a deep sadness underneath his fury.

I stayed calm. "Why does that question upset you?"

"I… I thought I made it clear, for years I've tried to make it clear that you are everything I want and you always have been. You're my life partner, my soulmate, my everything. I don't care if I sound like a chick flick, Leah. You can't doubt that. There was never anyone else. How could there be? With all that we shared… how could you even ask that?"

"Exactly my sentiment," I said. I started sauteing the vegetables with the meat that was simmering. I walked away to check on the rice cooker. When I got back to the stove, Sam was sitting on the floor.

"I'm such an idiot."

"I know." I said, seasoning the meat and veggies, building a sauce for the rice.

"I don't deserve you."

"I wouldn't go that far." I sat beside him. "Is there anyone else you were jealous about, other than Paul?" I asked.

"No," He said.

"Was there anything I did that exasperated your insecurity with Paul?" I needed to know this.

"No, it wasn't you. I just kind of… I believed in him and he didn't let up about you, not even when I married you. I mean, you're my fucking wife! Why did he still have to say that shit and to think that shit? But he didn't say anything when he was grieving for Emily."

"How did you find out they slept together?"

"It was when I asked him to do the double date with us. I told him to show her a good time but don't fuck her. He said, 'I fucked her last time. Why can't I fuck her this time?'"

"What a class act."

Sam laughed. I loved his laugh. I loved that I could make him laugh, even now.

"Yeah, that's Paul. I'm so stupid. I'm so sorry Lee-lee."

"I know. But how do we move on? You don't trust me and I don't feel like it's fair."

"It's really not you, Leah. I think it's my own, I don't know, misogyny or sexism or something. Like, some part of me really worries that there isn't a woman alive that will say no to Paul."

I laughed really hard at that. It took me a minute to be able to form words again.

"Thank you, Sam." I said, still giggling. He was looking at me like I had slapped him in the face.

"What's so funny about that?"

"Thank you for bearing your soul and admitting to your misogyny. I really never expected that from you. It just took me off guard, all that. But it's also really funny."

"Why is it funny?"

"Because you're right, it is absolutely misogyny. Paul has a perfect record. Good for him. He goes after girls that he knows that he can have. I know a lot of girls that want nothing to do with him. He's tried flirting with them, they shot him down and he doesn't try anymore. He never asked them out. He knows how to take a hint. And I've given him more than a few hints. I don't think he's actually into me. Like, I know he finds me attractive, but he's doing this to get to you. He's never going to even try something with me. Know why?"

"Because I'll beat him to a pulp?"

"No! Because he knows I'll turn him down and talk about insecure! Paul is the king of insecure. He only goes after those that he is sure of. He doesn't take any risks, doesn't step out on a limb, not with girls at least."

"Hmmm. Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"You literally share a brain with him!" I wanted to shake him. "I thought you knew that. If you had once told me that you felt insecure about him, I would have told you."

"Do you forgive me?" He asked. He was adorable.

"No! Maybe." He was smiling at me. The fucker. I loved his smile. He reached his hand across the linoleum floor and brushed it against mine. He was so fucking romantic. I stood and stirred the sauce.

He stood behind me, wrapping his arms around me. He started kissing my neck. I turned the heat down on the sauce to let the flavors mingle while the rice finished cooking.

I turned around in his arms. He buried his face in my neck. "Sam, it's ok."

"Yeah, I know, I just want to be here," he said, his voice muffled a little.

"Why don't you just order him to cut the shit?" I suggested.

"That's not a fair fight."

"I could do it." I offered.

"Hot," he said, "but no. We can't order people to not have certain thoughts."

"But we can order them to not say shit, like how you ordered Jake to not tell Bella anything about us."

"That was pack business, Lee-lee. This isn't. This is between me and Paul and he's my best friend and our beta so it's kind of delicate."

"You broke his nose." I reminded him.

"I thought you weren't looking."

"I heard it."

Sam smiled into my neck. "I won't be able to get away with anything anymore with your wolf senses."

"You know you love it."

"I really do love it." Sam said with a hint of seduction creeping into his words.

SPOV

She reached around my neck and put her fingers in my hair, rubbing my scalp gently. Then she lifted my face away from her neck. She looked up at me with her beautiful brown eyes.

I looked down at her, trying not to show my desperation. We stood there, staring at each other for a long while.

The rice cooker beeped.

She didn't move.

I kept my eyes on hers but reached around her and turned off the burner. The click of the knob awoke something in her. She pushed me back, separating us.

She spun around and took the pan off the heat. She pulled the rice pan out of the rice cooker and set the table. She grabbed serving spoons and drinks and brought the food to the table. She sat and started to help herself to the meal.

Now I was motionless, exactly where she left me.

"You're going to want to eat or there might not be any left," she cautioned.

Fuck. We were so close to reconciling. I sat across from her where she set my plate.

"It's delicious," I said. It was.

"I got the recipe from one of your mom's cook books."

I smiled. My mom can't cook for shit but she had a huge cookbook collection. I figured that was why she was always so skinny, because she couldn't make good food and couldn't afford to eat out all the time. She had given Leah most of her cookbooks.

"Which book?" I asked.

"Chinese food for two. I made a triple batch."

"Smart. I'm not sure there will be any leftovers though." I commented.

"I already made your lunch for tomorrow if that's what you're worried about."

"One, I'm not worried, two, I was thinking of your lunch, not mine, and three, tomorrow is my day so you are stealing my chores." I tried to hide my smirk. As if I cared about chores right now.

"If we had leftovers, you'd have taken them and you wouldn't call it stealing chores. What's the difference?"

Damn. She knew how to get me. "Your wolfy appetite is exactly the difference. Last week, this amount of food would have provided enough for your lunch and about half of mine. Now, I don't see how there will be any leftovers, and that's fine. We just have to plan it differently."

"And how do you suggest we plan it differently?"

"We'll need a lot more food, for one."

"Yes, true," she agreed.

"And maybe we should plan our lunches on the weekend like we do dinners, instead of relying on leftovers and sandwiches. Either that, or we need to double the portion size for dinners and package half for the next day's lunch."

"That's actually a really good idea. But we haven't shopped for it this week."

"Leave it to you to phase on a Monday knowing that shopping day is Sunday," I said playfully.

"I didn't do it on purpose!" She spat, not catching the playful tone.

I grinned. "I know, baby. I'm just teasing. It's not a big deal. We won't run out of food, not before the weekend. We have tons of ingredients and you get a meal from the diner when you work."

"Will that meal be enough?"

"Maybe keep a bag of peanut butter sandwiches in the car."

"Good plan."

"When you get your meal break, order your dinner, then eat maybe three peanut butter sandwiches. By the time you're done, your meal will be ready and you'll be able to enjoy it more because you won't be so hungry."

She smiled softly. "Great idea, thank you Sam."

"Are we good, Leah?" I asked, hoping she couldn't hear my desperation. But she knew me so well. She probably could.

"Yeah, we're good."

"Can I sit with you?"

"Yeah." She scooched over, I pushed my plate next to hers. Then I walked around the table and sat with her. But I didn't touch her. I left that up to her this time, to decide when we touched again. I knew I had fucked up.

After supper, she cleaned up and I started a load of laundry. Then we sat on the couch and I turned on the little TV that used to be in my bedroom at my mom's house.

Over the course of a half hour sitcom, she inched closer and closer to me until our thighs touched. I put my arm around the back of the couch. She pulled it down over her shoulder and held my hand. We sat like that for another half hour sitcom.

She started looking up at me. Hungry eyes. She had hungry eyes for me. She pulled my head down and kissed me. We made out for a whole sitcom and it was great. It was like sophomore year when we'd have movie nights at my house and we'd just kiss for hours, really exploring and enjoying each other.

Finally, she straddled my lap and said, "take me to bed."

LPOV

Sam lifted me off the couch and carried me to the bedroom. We both undressed and climbed into the bed. I felt nervous somehow, like it was our first time in bed together.

I slid over and started kissing him again. Sam and I fought a lot. We both had a healthy temper and weren't afraid to speak our mind. This night felt different than our usual fights.

This night was about trust and insecurity, not dumb shit like chores. We both showed a lot of vulnerability and it all felt so raw. But I loved him so much.

He kissed me and held me and kissed me. I could feel his erection growing on my belly. After thoroughly kissing me, he turned me around so that my back was facing his chest.

His hard cock was between my butt cheeks, gently rubbing. He had his head right next to mine, brushing his cheek against mine. He changed the angle of his hips and his dick was poking through my thighs a little bit. He changed his hips again and he gently rocked into me, pushing his head ever so slightly into my cunt.

He rocked his hips gently, pushing into me so slowly. I could feel the pulse in the hardness. I could feel his need as he submerged himself completely into me with balls pressed right onto me. He did not go hard. Instead, every few seconds he clenched his hips and butt, or at least that's when it felt like. It felt like a firm twitch inside of me. It felt primal and biological and so real.

He held me close to him, our cheeks touching, and his cock deep inside of me. It was an apology and a love letter in one. It felt like we were one and I could feel his love for me. I wanted him to feel my love back but I didn't know how he was doing that. It was like being in the pack mind, almost, where our emotions could mingle together.

But I didn't want to break the silence to ask. The silence was what made this so good, feral almost, with just grunts and sighs. He pulled my face up and started to kiss me again. There was no rush, just enjoying each other. But the intensity was crazy good, with his balls on my clit and the gentle thrusts that filled me completely… I was going to come.

"Sam," I whispered, not wanting to break the silence, "Sam I'm…." then my whole body clenched. He pushed in so deep and I felt him tighten, then release inside of me as he shot his load.

Then he held me still, cheek on my cheek, our kiss broken but he was still inside of me.

"I really loved that." I said, still quietly.

"I know, I could feel your emotions, your love and your pleasure."

"You could?" I asked, surprised. "I could feel your love. It was almost like the pack mind. It was amazing."

"It really was. I love you so much Leah. I feel so stupid." That hit me hard. I didn't want him to feel that way.

"I was thinking about your misogyny, Sam, and I think I'm responsible for some of it."

"Oh?" He was intrigued. He kissed the back of my ear, then nibbled it a little.

"We've been together forever, since long before homecoming my freshman year. Have you ever had any friends that were girls, other than me?"

He thought for a minute. "Emily?"

"And what did you and Emily talk about?" I asked, smiling.

"We never really talked. I just spent time with you two and you talked to her. I listened though."

"That's what I thought. I never had any guy friends either other than your friends, but I've had tons of conversations with them. I think maybe you didn't talk to other girls because you didn't want me to be jealous or something?"

"No, Leah, I'm just not that chatty with most people. I don't have much to say. And I was never really interested in what any girls had to say. Even with Emily, I wasn't all that interested in what she was talking about, just how you'd respond and what you thought about certain topics that I never thought to ask you about."

"What did you talk about at lunch with the guy jocks?"

"Sometimes sports, sometimes girls. I didn't really say much. Everyone knew I was with you so no one bugged me about girls. I always pulled my weight in the games so no one bugged me about that either. If I had something to say, I'd pipe up. I'd share a burn when I had a good one, but mostly I just enjoyed their company in peace."

"I never would have guessed."

"Why's that?"

"Because we talk so much."

"You're always interesting and I feel safe being vulnerable with you. I feel safe fighting with you too. Even tonight, I knew we'd get through it. I didn't know how , but our anger, it's like traction. It moves us to a new place every time, do you know what I mean?"

"Yeah," I agreed, "but sometimes it just feels like a different place, like with the chores fights. Sometimes it moves us profoundly closer, like tonight. But you're right, our anger has traction and it is good."

"And I love it. Like, I never imagined I'd love fighting with my wife but I don't even suppress my anger anymore, or not as much as I used to. I let it flow and butt heads with your anger and see where we end up after we've cleared the air."

"That's beautiful, Sam."

"You think so?"

"Yeah. Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"What did you do with your anger for your dad? I mean, he's gone, so the traction doesn't work."

He thought for a moment. "I had to let it go a long time ago. When he left, I was mad. You remember. That anger still had traction but it wasn't changing my relationship with my dad. It was just tearing me up. So I let it go."

"How did you do that?"

"Is this about your dad?"

I nodded against his cheek.

"It took years for me to let the anger go, but I was so young. Maybe it will go faster for you. I might have held on longer in hopes that he would come back. Knowing was half the battle."

"Knowing that the anger wasn't helping?"

"Yeah."

"And what was the other half?"

"It was giving up hope that the anger would ever help."

"Oh Sam!" I gasped. "I didn't know. I didn't know that you don't expect to see him again."

"Oh, I expect to see him again. His mom lives on the rez and he does come to see her. He doesn't ever stop in to see me, but I expect I'll run into him at some point."

"That sucks."

"I guess. He's just not anything to me now."

"I can give up hope of seeing my dad again. He's dead."

He nodded.

"But the anger is still there."

"Yeah, it will take time to fade. Are you still mad about everything earlier, all that Paul shit."

"Only a tiny bit," I admitted.

"It's ok, baby," he said, and kissed my cheek. "That's what I'm saying though. It takes time to fade, even when you accept that it is time to move on."

He held me close as we both drifted off to sleep.