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Okay (Something More #2)
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After the horrors she’s survived over the past year, Rory never expected to find the one thing she certainly wasn’t looking for – love. But after the painful realization that her past has left her a dangerous liability to the person she cares for the most, she finally understands that for her and Sam, love means letting go.
Can two people hopelessly in love with one another ever revert back into just friends? Neither Rory nor Sam know for sure. But the one thing they do know – it’s the only choice they have.
As Rory recovers from a devastating assault, Sam will do anything to make sure it never happens again. But how far will he go to keep her safe? Their choices will change everything, and they will either bring them back together, or destroy them irrevocably.
OKAY is the follow-up to NORMAL and Book 2 of the Something More series. It is not meant to be read as a standalone novel.
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My mom got on a plane as soon as I finally called her and told her what happened, so I’m flying back home with her now. I didn’t want to wake you to say bye, especially since you didn’t really sleep last night. I just wanted to say thank you for everything. For convincing me to come on this trip in the first place, for making sure I had a good time that first night out, for taking care of me when I got sick. Some of the best moments of my life were with you on this trip.
I hate that you think that you’re even remotely to blame for what happened last night. The only thing you’re responsible for is saving me. I won’t ever be able to repay you, Sam. I just hope you know how grateful I am and how much you mean to me.
I’m sorry for how I handled things, or for the fact that I can’t handle things. I’m sorry if I hurt you. You’ll never know how much. You are still one of my best friends in the world, and I love you for that. Please try not to worry about me, I will be fine, I always am, right? Just try to enjoy the rest of your trip. Go to the beach, to the bars, do all the things you should have been doing this whole time, and I’ll just see you when you get back.
A note. A stupid fucking note. She left in the middle of the night and left me a note.
How can I have the best and worst fucking experiences of my life all in the same fucking day?
And since when do I curse this much?
Never in a million years did I think this would be me. A heartbroken, sorry shmuck, and on spring break no less. I have fucking whiplash from the events of the past twenty-four hours.
This is why you don’t have a girlfriend in high school.
First, I have the most mind blowing, life altering afternoon with the most beautiful girl on God’s good earth, and then, because of my own pathetic jealousy, I let her put herself in danger.
You can’t imagine what it’s like to see the girl you care about more than your own damned self pinned to a wall in a dark alley with a fucking monster attacking her. To watch her live out her worst nightmare—literally—because I was too blinded by my own insecurities to stop it right away.
I take another shot of tequila in an attempt to erase the image that’s been laser printed onto my brain.
But one good thing did come of that shitty fucking night. I found my fucking balls. After everything was said and done, and Rory was safe in my arms again, I told her I loved her.
Me. Sam Caplan. The guy who had a rule about not having a relationship in high school so I wouldn’t repeat my parents’ pathetic, cliched mistakes—link myself to some chick I thought I loved until I hated both her and myself. Because love wasn’t real, right?
And then in walks Rory. With her downplayed beauty, and her perfect little body. Her defiance and her vulnerability. God, it’s like it just snuck up on me and yet at the same time it hit me like a goddamned freight train the moment I caught sight of her—freaking out by the lockers at school, acting all tough even while she was trying not to fall apart.
I rub my eyes with the heels of my palms. My head hurts from overthinking every detail of the past couple days like a fucking girl.
Rory loves me too. She said it. She meant it. I know she did.
But then I got into a fistfight with her father in a goddamned police precinct. And I’d been so good at controlling my “anger issues” lately. But that son of a bitch was there to help her attacker, and called her a liar, and when he reached out to grab her arm, I fucking lost it. No way was I going to let another man—whoever the hell he was—lay a hand on her without her permission again. Not after everything she’d already been through. No fucking way.
A loud crashing sound across the room is the only indication that I’ve thrown another glass against the wall. I groan and rub at my temples. That was my last glass. I take the next shot straight from the bottle.
I hit her fucking father. What the hell is wrong with me?
The best part—the truly hilarious part—is that even after that, I was still choke-on-your-own-breath, heart-stoppingly shocked when she ended it.
Never have I had a stronger urge to punch myself in the face.
I stare at the screen of my phone for the thousandth time since I woke up yesterday to find she’d gone back home with nothing but a fucking note left in her place. I will my phone to buzz with a call from her, or even a text, explaining something. Though I guess that’s what the note was meant to do.