Forbidden Ties

Chapter 4; Beneath The Surface.

I heard the bathroom door slam before I even had a chance to react. Sam. Gone. I stood there, frozen for a heartbeat, and then I pushed myself into motion. I couldn’t let her shut me out like this. I couldn’t let the one person who meant everything to me walk away without a fight.

“Sam!” I shouted, my voice cracking, desperation clawing at my throat as I ran down the hallway. My hand gripped the doorknob, but it was already too late. She had locked it behind her. I pounded on the door, my knuckles bruising with each hit.

“Sam, please. Let me in. Let me explain. It wasn’t like that.” My chest tightened, panic starting to build in my throat. What had I done? How had I let it go this far?

I pressed my forehead against the door, trying to catch my breath. Silence on the other side, followed by the sound of muffled sobs.

“Sam…” My voice softened, barely above a whisper. “Please. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you.”

But she didn’t answer. Only more sniffles, more choking sobs that tore at my insides. I knew I’d messed up—badly—but this? This was killing me. I could feel my heart twisting in my chest, the weight of my mistakes suffocating me with every passing second.

“Sam…” I said again, but this time, I heard her.

“Just go away, Jax!” she cried out, her voice breaking. “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear any more lies. Just leave me alone!”

My throat tightened at the pain in her voice. God, I never wanted to see her like this. It was supposed to be a joke—something dumb I could brush off, but now? Now it was all falling apart, and I had no one to blame but myself.

“I’m sorry. I really am, Sam. Just… open the door. Please.” I stood there for a long time, hoping for any sign that she might listen, might let me in, but there was nothing. Only more silence.

And then the sound of water splashing.

She was in the shower. She was drowning herself in it, trying to wash away everything that had happened between us. And it killed me that she felt like she needed to do that.

I could hear the front door open downstairs, the sounds of footsteps coming into the house. Our parents were home. My mom, her stepdad—did they know what was going on?

“s**t,” I muttered, looking down the hallway. The last thing I needed was for them to get involved in this. Sam was already hurting, and I didn’t need them making it worse.

I turned back to the bathroom door, my hand still resting on it, feeling the cold wood under my fingertips. I could hear her moving inside, the shower running louder now. She was trying to block everything out. Trying to block me out.

My mind raced. What had I done? What could I even say to make this right? Nothing. There was no magic word to fix this. I knew that, but I couldn’t stop myself from wishing there was.

“Sam,” I whispered, but this time, I didn’t pound on the door. I couldn’t do that anymore. I didn’t know what else to say.

It felt like I was losing her, piece by piece, and there was nothing I could do to stop it.

The sound of the shower water became muffled as her footsteps shifted, probably stepping out of the stall. I swallowed hard, my head spinning with the weight of everything. The only thing that was certain was that this wasn’t over. Not for me. Not for us. But I knew—I knew it might be for her.

Footsteps echoed upstairs as our parents walked toward their rooms. My heart thudded in my chest. I needed to figure this out. Fast. But for now, I was locked outside, helpless.

“Dinner’s ready!” Sam’s mom called from the kitchen, and I knew it was time to face the music.

I walked into the dining room, and Sam was already sitting at the table, her eyes down as she poked at her food. She didn’t look at me, but she didn’t need to. We both knew there was an unspoken tension between us.

Her mom was busy plating food, smiling as she set down the dishes. “How was school today, you two?”

I glanced at Sam. She didn’t look up. “Same old stuff,” I said, shrugging it off.

Sam didn’t respond, just jabbing her fork into a piece of chicken, pushing it around on her plate.

“Anything exciting happen?” Sam’s mom asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Sam gave a noncommittal grunt. “Nope. Nothing exciting.”

I couldn’t help it; I tried to break the silence. “Yeah, same here. Just the usual,” I said, but Sam didn’t react. It felt like she was purposely avoiding any kind of conversation.

I leaned back in my chair, glancing at her mom, who gave me a look that made it clear she was aware something wasn’t quite right. She didn’t press, though—just sat down with a smile that seemed a little too forced.

“You both seem... quiet,” she commented, eyeing us with a raised eyebrow.

Sam finally looked up, but only briefly. Her eyes flickered toward me, and for a split second, I thought she might say something. But she didn’t. She just shrugged again, not making eye contact. “Just tired.”

I noticed she was still avoiding the subject. It was like everything had shifted in the last few hours, but I couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Trying to lighten the mood, I threw in a playful comment. “Guess we’re just too cool for a lively dinner conversation, huh?”

Sam smirked, but it was more out of habit than anything.

“You can keep your ‘cool’ to yourself. You’re the one who probably needs the most energy anyway,” she shot back, her voice teasing but not harsh.

I couldn’t help but grin, appreciating the normalcy of it, even if things felt a little off. “Maybe. But hey, I’m just here for the food.”

Her mom smiled at the exchange, but her smile faded when she noticed Sam’s lack of appetite. “You okay, Sam?”

Sam didn’t look up, only muttered, “Yeah, just not hungry.”

She stood up, scraping her chair back with an exaggerated screech. “I’m gonna go... do something.”

Her mom watched her leave, and I couldn’t help but feel the awkwardness between us. There was a subtle discomfort hanging in the air, but I didn’t know how to address it. I couldn’t just come out and apologize—not with her mom here.

“Everything okay between you two?” Sam’s mom asked, her voice low and careful.

I hesitated, unsure what to say.

“Yeah. Just a misunderstanding.”

Her mom nodded slowly, but she didn’t seem convinced.

“Well, whatever it is, I'm sure you two will figure it out.”

I didn’t answer, only sat there, the words caught in my throat. What was I supposed to say?

As I lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling, the weight of the silence pressing down on me. The room felt too quiet. My mind, however, was anything but. Every inch of my body ached with the absence of Sam. I couldn’t stop thinking about her—the way her hair fell across her shoulders, the curve of her lips, the quiet intensity in her eyes. It was like she was everywhere—yet, just out of reach.

I should’ve handled things differently. I shouldn’t have let the tension between us grow. Shouldn’t have let my own pride, my own mistakes, tear us apart. She had pulled away from me, and I couldn’t blame her. What I had done—what we had done—was too much, too soon, and now it felt like everything was unraveling because of it. I regretted pushing her, regretted the words left unsaid.

What the hell had I been thinking?

I turned onto my side, trying to sleep, but every inch of my body was on fire with thoughts of her. The feel of her, the taste of her kiss... I could almost still taste her, feel her hands on me. I closed my eyes tightly, willing the thoughts away, but they wouldn’t leave. They couldn’t leave.

Then, a vibration from my phone shattered the silence. I reached for it, hoping for something, anything to distract me.

It was a message from Sam.

“We need to talk.”

I sat up, heart racing. My fingers hovered over the screen, a wave of panic flooding through me. I almost replied instantly, but before I could, another message followed. My breath caught in my throat.

“More threatening texts from different numbers just came through. They know about us. And they apparently want to expose us.”

My chest tightened. This was getting out of hand. The past—the secret we’d been so careful to hide—was coming to haunt us, and I wasn’t sure if we could bury it.

I quickly typed out a response.

“I’m coming over. We’ll figure this out together.”

But I knew, deep down, that this wasn’t just something we could “figure out” so easily. Things were spiraling, and fast.

I just hoped we could stop it before it was too late.