Page 47 of Any Port in a Storm

“Yeah.” I cross to the fridge so I can put my back to him. “I’m not so sure casual is me after all.”

“No?” His tone is caught halfway between intrigued and smug.

“Nah. I think I’m going to end things with Porter. I might want…more. Than that.”

I turn around to grab more groceries and see Nick leaning against the counter, surveying me thoughtfully. “You don’t have to do this, Laurel. Your life is your own. We’ve done more than enough damage to each other’s relationships in the past.”

My mind jumps to five years ago. To Sam. To Alyssa. I shake my head. “We have. But this time, I think you were right.”

His lips edge up at the corners. “Well, if you’re sure.”

I smile back. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

FOURTEEN

five years earlier

Two weeks before Thanksgiving, Sam asks if I can come over after his hockey game. It strikes me as odd, because we don’t typically hang out on game nights—he usually goes to the bar with his team to celebrate.

Especially this year. Hawthorne’s been on quite the winning streak, and the guys have been spending so much time celebrating that their coach has actually started to tag along to make sure they don’t get too drunk.

When I get to his dorm, Sam’s standing awkwardly in the doorway. The TV is off, which is also a bit of a red flag—he and his roommate, Jordan, typically need a constant infusion of ESPN in order to function. While I don’t particularly understand it, I’ve always thought it was kind of cute. Sam is just so devoted to hockey. And being obsessed with your pursuits is definitely something I can get behind.

“Hey,” I say, leaning in for a kiss. Sam smiles awkwardly and twists to shut the door, so I hit his cheek instead.

Now I know something’s wrong.

“Sam. What’s going on?”

He sighs deeply. “Want a drink?”

“I’m okay, actually.”

He’s practically wringing his hands. “Please let me get you a drink.”

I take a step closer, ignoring the panic written all over his face. “Just tell me what you need to tell me.”

His eyelids flutter shut. “You know I care about you, Laurel.”

“I do.” My pulse picks up its pace, even though I know exactly where this conversation is heading.

“But I think we’re just…we’re heading in two different directions.” He runs a worried hand over his jaw. “I’m so focused on the team, and getting ready for my internship; you’re so busy with your classes, and it’s only going to get harder when you start on your dissertation.”

“We’ve both always been focused on those things,” I say gently. “That’s part of what made us such a good match. There was no guilt about having those priorities.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “But it just feels like…you’re not all in.”

I shake my head. “I’m as all in as I can be without dropping out of school.” I spend almost every evening I’m not prepping for class or writing papers hanging out with Sam. Except when he has practice, or a game. Or when he goes out with the hockey team, which, admittedly, has been feeling far more frequent of late.

I’m also not with Sam when I’m hanging out with Grace and Nick. But there’s been a lot less of that recently, since she’s been so caught up with Roger, and, until Halloween, Nick was spending most of his time with Alyssa. Still, the three of us do manage to get out for dinner and movie nights pretty regularly.

Sam’s teeth catch on his lower lip. “Even when we’re together, it feels like you’re somewhere else.”

My mind races. I guess I have been pretty focused on prepping lesson plans lately. Maybe I’ve been neglecting Sam a little more than I should, even with our super relaxed relationship. “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I can try harder. It’s just, with all the classes I’m TA-ing, there’s been a lot more prep than I expected. And I really want to wow the department so I get into a doctoral program next year. But I can⁠—”

He cuts me off. “It isn’t that. I love that you’re so devoted to your work.”

“Then what is it?”