She scrunches her nose, thinking it over, and then shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. Just that his dad is a hockey player, and his mom is a sports agent.”
“Preston’s dad was an alcoholic before he met his mom.”
“But he was a pro hockey player.” She seems confused. “How could he drink and still play?”
“He was a functioning alcoholic. After his dad died, he started drinking all the time. Preston’s mom made him stop drinking and helped him get his career back on track. Preston’s grandparents were both drug addicts. They died from an overdose when his mom was younger, and she was raised in foster care with Jamie’s dad. That’s how they became friends.”
“Wow.” Sam relaxes in her chair, looking less stressed than before. “I had no idea.”
“Jamie’s grandparents were both alcoholics. That’s how his dad ended up in foster care. They even named his dad after a bottle of whiskey.”
“Jameson,” she says, nodding her head, now getting the reference. “Oh, that’s… interesting.”
“You get what I’m saying, Sam? Most successful people don’t come from money. You look at your upbringing as a barrier, but I think that’s the reason you’re gonna make it. You never give up. I’ve never met a woman like you. No matter how hard you have to work, you keep going. And that’s what makes you unstoppable. It’s the reason I like you so much.”
Love her so much.
She smiles, brushing her fingers along my hand. “You’re nothing like what I thought all those years ago. I wish I had known the real Tucker all along. I would have made different choices if I did.”
I have no idea what choices she’s referring to, but I nod that I understand.
“It’s hard to grow up the way I did and not see someone like you thinking you have it all and that your life is perfect,” Sam adds.
I snort. “Far from it. I have money and material things, but I was empty before I met you. I had hockey and my family and friends, but I was missing something.”
She points a finger at her chest. “And that something was me?”
“Yeah, I think so. I stopped drinking all the time after I met you. I started studying after that, too. You make me want to be a better man, Sam.”
She flashes a closed-mouth smile. “I wish I had the same effect on my dad.”
“You can’t change everyone,” I say. “But you did change me.”
Sam hesitates, her lips part and shimmer with a light pink gloss. “If I can change just one person, then I guess I did my job. Right? I must’ve been a good teacher.”
“You’re an example worth following,” I say with a wink.
A few minutes later, we enter the house carrying bags of groceries. The entryway stinks of cigarettes, the paint on the walls stained from age and smoke. As we step into the living room, I stare in horror at the man on the couch across from us. Jim is passed out, a lit cigarette still in his hand, burning at the end. The ashes fall to the floor as the beer in his other hand spills onto the frayed carpet,
Sam wasn’t lying about her dad or the condition of her childhood home. But this place isn’t a home. It’s a fucking nightmare. Seeing how this man lives puts my own life into perspective. Now, I see why Sam considers me a spoiled brat. I am by most people’s standards, but compared to Sam, my family might as well be the Rockefellers.
“Wake up, Jim!” Sam drops the bags to the beat-up wooden coffee table and rips the cigarette from his hand, leaving it in the overflowing ashtray to burn out.
Jim rolls onto his side, dumping the rest of the beer on the carpet, now snoring loud enough to hear him from across the room.
Sam lifts the bags from the table and sighs, unable to look at me. “I didn’t want you to see this. It’s humiliating.”
I cup her shoulder with my hand. “The way he lives is his fault, not yours. You’re not responsible for him. He’s the parent.”
“More like a child,” she groans, leading me into the kitchen.
I help Sam put the groceries away, and then she leans against the counter, her hands covering her face. She didn’t want me to come with her and maybe I should have listened to her, but I’m glad I came today. I needed to see for myself to truly understand how hard it is for her. Why she works so hard to make something of herself. I’m proud of the woman she’s become despite all the obstacles in her way.
As I step in front of her, I peel her hands away, slipping my fingers between hers. “You’re not him, Sam. Don’t be ashamed.” I bend down to match her height, brushing my lips against hers. “Thank you for letting me in. I know how hard this is for you.”