Living With Regret by Lisa de Jong Page A

letting him know I’ll be okay. I’ve dealt with my family’s judgment and guidance for years, and this is the least of my worries today. Besides, there’s nothing she can say that’s going to make me turn him away.
    As he stands, his hand squeezes mine. My mom watches the whole thing, her disdain written all over her face. A few weeks ago, her behavior might have caused an argument between us, but my body and heart have been drained of all energy. She can think what she wants to think about Sam, but it really doesn’t matter to me.
    I listen for the familiar click, curling the hospital sheets between my fingers. I hate when people pass judgment on others based on their family’s social standing or things they’ve heard around town—something that’s especially bad in our small town. It’s like deciding not to read a book because of its cover … there are so many beautiful, meaningful words I would have missed out on if I’d done that.
    “Rachel, what are you doing?” Mom asks, rubbing her fingers across her forehead. I’m annoyed that she is so bothered by Sam being here. There are bigger things to worry about.
    “What do you want me to say, Mom? I need him here.”
    “I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Not with the police coming. Do you understand that you could still be facing charges?” She says the last part like it’s a disease. One she wants to run away from. She hasn’t come out and said it, but I feel like an embarrassment to my family. Being a potential felon doesn’t really fit the prim and proper image my parents created, but that doesn’t matter to me, not when I consider what I did to get myself here.
    “They’re not going to tack a charge on for hanging out with Sam Shea.”
    She opens her mouth, but as soon as her eyes connect with mine, she stops, her eyes warming. “Your father’s going to be here soon. I just think it might be better if it’s just the three of us.”
    “I need him here,” I whisper.
    She shakes her head. “Your father—”
    “I’ll take care of him.” All the little fears I once had have been forgotten, because I’ve faced my greatest. I didn’t even know what my greatest worry was until just days ago. It shows how quickly things can change, and how those things change people. Before this all happened, I did whatever I had to do to keep my parents happy, especially Dad. Things like that just don’t matter anymore.
    When Sam walks back in, he ignores the way my mom’s nose wrinkles as her whole body recoils. It only worsens when he takes the seat next to me and rests his hand on my forearm. He’s been doing that since he arrived earlier. Talking to me, lightly touching my arm or squeezing my hand. It feels nice … it’s helping keep at least a part of my mind off of what’s to come today.
    All that comfort fades when Dad joins us. Mom may not be Sam's biggest fan, but my dad flat out doesn't like him. He's never really talked to him, but his perceptions of him aren't good. He’s the type of guy who hates foreign cars even though he’s never driven one. The minute he spots Sam, I know this is going to be a battle.
    “Sam, I think it’s time for you to go home. This is a family thing.” He stands at the end of my bed like a statue of authority. I'm almost scared into submission, but the thought of being here alone with my parents fuels me.
    “He’s not going anywhere,” I say quietly, pleading with my eyes. If we were just at home, he'd push the subject, but I know he won't here. There are too many people within earshot. His reputation, and everything he’s built from it, means too much to him.
    “I’m not leaving her,” Sam adds, squeezing my hand tightly. Sam pretty much despises my dad and everything he stands for. He’s also one of the few people in town my dad doesn’t have any hold over. Not much scares Sam.
    Not surprisingly, Dad ignores him, and the way his jaw works back and forth tells me he’s not ready to give