Free Somebody Like You by Beth K. Vogt Page A

leftovers still waited for her. Memories of Sam, when she allowed them to slip past the mental barricade she’d erected, left the salty taste of unshed tears in the back of her throat. She scraped the remnants of dinner into the trash can, closing the metal lid on the aroma of Italian food with a bang.
    “Whatcha say, buddy?” Was that a small kick or punch in response to her question? “How about pretzels dipped in Nutella?”

    He should have asked Haley what her middle name was.
    After spending an hour wrestling answers out of her, he’d go with “Stonewall.” The woman was worse than a dead end. She gave up no ground.
    Stephen sat in his Mustang, a chill surrounding him, even as a deeper cold—an ache he couldn’t relieve—grew in his heart. Years of choices—things said, things left unsaid—separated him from Sam. And now, the chasm between heaven and earth.
    He leaned forward, arms resting across the steering wheel, his breath fogging the windshield. He already knew his brother liked to dip his potato chips in ketchup. That Sam wanted a classic ’66 Mustang. He could have found most of the other information about Sam if he’d read his obituary. But Stephencouldn’t do that. Let Haley Ames be casual about the word dead when it came to Sam. He’d been the one to fight back tears, not her.
    A tornado of unanswered questions swirled inside, all the larger after spending time with Sam’s widow. What kind of woman had his brother married anyway? Honey-blond hair that scattered past her shoulders. Icy blue eyes highlighted by high cheekbones. No makeup that he could see. And no engagement ring or wedding band on her finger either. She hadn’t waited long to take off her rings. She’d huddled across the table from him in a quilted green North Face coat that looked like something a guy would wear.
    Maybe it was. Maybe it was Sam’s coat. She took off her wedding band but wore her husband’s coat. Odd.
    Stephen shifted in the seat, a faint hint of moonlight filtering into the car. He couldn’t find Sam by going forward . . . and without Haley’s help, he couldn’t discover Sam’s past. She was a shaky bridge to the twelve years of silence, but he had to try. Her resistance, her silence, impeded his progress. But he couldn’t give up yet.
    The doors to the white SUV next to him opened, then slammed shut in a rapid one-two-three-four beat, as a family with two preteens entered the car. Their laughter snagged at his heart, an echo of sweeter family times with Sam. What next? The thought of calling Elissa flickered through his mind. Faded. He hadn’t spoken to her since his crash-and-burn proposal in Breckenridge. The memory of that day scalded his heart.
    “That’s it, then?” Stephen waited at the bottom of Elissa’s stoop.
    She stood with the front door half-open. “What else is there to say? You want something more . . . something I’m not ready for. Honestly, Stephen, it’s always felt as if you’re searching for something—”
    He shook his head, the words tumbling past his resolve not to expose his heart to her again. “No. No, I found what I want. Who I want, Elissa.”
    “I don’t think so.” She reached out, as if to caress his face, but then pulled her hand back. “I will miss you.”
    “Maybe—”
    “No maybes, Stephen. They’re fraught with expectations, don’t you think?”
    And that was that. And while Elissa wouldn’t leave room for maybe, he couldn’t deny the ember of hope that still burned. If he settled this thing with Sam—about Sam and himself—then maybe he could go back and make things right with Elissa.
    But not tonight.
    He hit autodial for his father, who answered on the first ring. “How are you, son?”
    “I’ve been better.”
    His father’s voice was gruff, weighed down. “I still can’t get used to the idea that we’ve lost Sam—”
    “I went to see his wife—his widow, Dad.”
    “What?”
    Stephen opened the driver’s door, turning so