My Bestie's Dad Likes Me Wet-Chapter 103 SELFISH

NOVA / ELIZABETH POV

We’d spent the entire day at the county fair two towns over. It was all rides, games, cotton candies and the works. Phoenix and Asher had run themselves ragged, their little faces sticky with sugar and sunburned despite the sunscreen I’d religiously reapplied.

The boys were passed out before we even got them inside.

"I got Phoenix," Sam said, scooping up my son from the backseat like he weighed nothing. Phoenix’s head lolled against Sam’s shoulder, mouth open, completely dead to the world.

I grabbed Asher, who was significantly heavier than he looked. My back immediately protested. Five-year-olds were not designed to be carried up stairs.

"You okay?" Sam asked, watching me struggle.

"Fine," I lied, adjusting Asher’s weight.

Sam gave me a look that said he didn’t believe me but didn’t argue. We made our way up to the apartment in comfortable silence, the kind that came from six years of knowing each other.

Six years. Had it really been that long?

The boys’ room was small but cozy. We’d painted it blue last summer—well, Sam had painted it while I "supervised" and the boys made a mess with the leftover paint. Their matching beds were covered in superhero sheets, and the wooden cribs Sam had built sat in the corner, now used for storage.

Sam laid Phoenix down gently, pulling off his sneakers and tucking him under the blanket. I did the same with Asher, brushing his dark hair off his forehead. He looked so much like Grant when he slept but a more peaceful and Innocent version.

"They had a good day," Sam whispered as we stepped out of the room, leaving the door cracked.

"They did. Thank you for coming with us. I know you had that job at the Miller’s place—"

"It can wait." Sam closed the door softly. "Days like this are more important."

There it was again. That steady, reliable Sam energy that made my chest tight. He always put us first. Always made time. Never made me feel like I was asking for too much.

I walked to the kitchen, suddenly needing something to do with my hands. "Want some tea? I think I have some—"

"Elizabeth." Sam’s voice stopped me. "You look exhausted. When’s the last time you just sat down?"

"I sit down all the time. I write, remember?"

"That’s not the same and you know it." He gestured to the couch. "Sit. Let me help."

"Sam, you’ve already done so much—"

"Sit."

The command in his voice surprised me enough that I obeyed. I sank onto the couch, suddenly aware of how much my back ached, how tight my shoulders were, how bone-deep tired I felt.

Sam sat behind me. "May I?"

I nodded, not entirely sure what he was asking permission for until his hands landed on my shoulders.

Oh.

His thumbs pressed into the knots at the base of my neck, and I couldn’t stop the groan that escaped.

"Told you," Sam said, but there was no smugness in his voice. Just concern. "You’re all tensed up." 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

"I’m always tensed up." The words slipped out before I could stop them. "Comes with the territory."

"What territory?"

Being on the run. Living under a fake name. Hiding from a man who probably stopped looking for me years ago.

"Single motherhood," I said instead.

Sam’s hands worked magic, kneading the tension from my shoulders, my neck, the space between my shoulder blades. It felt so good I could cry.

"You don’t have to do it alone, you know," Sam said quietly.

"I’m not alone. I have you."

"That’s not what I mean." His hands stilled for a moment, then resumed their work. "You’re so busy taking care of everyone else. The boys. Your writing. The diner. When do you take care of yourself?"

"I don’t need—"

"Yes, you do. You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, Elizabeth. You’re allowed to want things just for you."

Selfish. He’d been telling me that for years. "Be selfish. Ask for help. Let people in."

But I couldn’t. Because being selfish meant admitting I wanted more than survival. And wanting more felt like betraying everything I’d lost.

"Sam..." I didn’t know what I was going to say. Didn’t know how to explain the war inside me.

"I know," he said softly. His hands moved to my arms, gentle now instead of firm. "I know you’re scared. I know you’re holding back. I know there’s something you’re not telling me about who you were before you came here."

My breath caught. "Sam—"

"And I don’t care." His voice was firm now. "I don’t care about before. I care about now. About you and Phoenix and Asher. That’s all that matters to me."

He gently turned me around to face him. We were too close now. Close enough that I could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes. Close enough to smell his soap and the cotton candy the boys had smeared on his shirt.

"You matter to me," Sam said, his voice barely above a whisper. "More than I think you realize."

"Sam, I can’t—I’m not—" The words tangled in my throat. I’m not who you think I am. I’m not Elizabeth Moore. I’m Nova Hart and I’m still in love with a man I’ll never see again and you deserve so much better than this mess.

But I didn’t say any of it. Because Sam was looking at me like I was something precious. Like I was worth fighting for. And God, I was so tired of fighting.

"Tell me to stop," Sam said, leaning closer. "If you don’t want this, tell me to stop and I will. I’ll never bring it up again."

I should stop him. Should push him away. Should confess everything and let him run like any sane person would.

But I didn’t.

Sam’s lips met mine, gentle and questioning. Nothing like the desperate, consuming kisses Grant used to give me. This was softer and sweeter like a question instead of a demand.

I should pull away.

I should stop this.

I should—

I kissed him back.

My hands found his shirt, gripping the fabric as six years of holding back finally broke. Sam made a sound low in his throat, his arms wrapping around me, pulling me closer.

It felt good in a way that terrified me.

Because this wasn’t Grant. This was Sam. Sam who’d been here for six years. Sam who loved my boys. Sam who never pushed, never demanded, never made me feel like I owed him anything.

Sam who deserved the truth and was kissing a lie.

But I was so tired of being strong. So tired of being alone. So tired of denying myself anything that felt good because I was punishing myself for sins I’d committed a lifetime ago.

"Be selfish," Sam had always said.

So I was. Just this once, I was selfish.

The kiss deepened. Sam’s hands moved to my waist, thumbs brushing the strip of skin where my shirt had ridden up. I gasped against his mouth and felt him smile.

"Is this okay?" He pulled back just enough to ask, his forehead resting against mine.

"Yes." My voice was breathy, desperate. "Yes, Sam, it’s—"

My phone rang.

We both froze.

It rang again, the sound shrill and intrusive in the quiet apartment.

"Ignore it," Sam murmured, leaning in again.

But something felt wrong.

I pulled away, reaching for my phone on the coffee table. The screen lit up with a number I didn’t recognize.

Unknown caller.

My heart started pounding for an entirely different reason now.

Nobody had this number. Nobody except Mabel, Dr. Harrison, and—

Katie.

I’d given it to Katie years ago. Right after I’d left she sent me a single text saying Lena and her mum are on the look out for me. I’d sent a single text: I’m okay. Don’t look for me. Don’t tell anyone. Please.

She’d responded once: I won’t. Be safe.

And that was it. Six years of silence.

Until now.

"Elizabeth?" Sam’s voice sounded far away. "You okay?"

I stared at the phone as it rang a third time.

"I need to take this," I heard myself say.

"Now?"

"Yes. Now." I stood up, putting distance between us, my heart hammering. "I’m sorry. I just—I need to take this."

Sam’s face was a mix of confusion and hurt, but he nodded. "Okay. I’ll... I’ll go check on the boys."

He left, and I was alone with the ringing phone. If I didn’t answer, they’d hang up, right? It could be nothing right? Maybe a wrong number. But my hands were shaking.

Because deep down, I knew. I knew that six years of hiding was about to come crashing down.

I answered.

"Hello?"

Silence. Then a voice I hadn’t heard in six years. Katie’s voice, but wrong, whispery and scared.

"Nova?"

The name I hadn’t heard for the last six years.

Nova.

Not Elizabeth. Nova.

"Katie?" My voice was barely a whisper.

"Nova, thank God. I didn’t know if this number still worked. I didn’t know if you’d—" She stopped, and I heard her take a shaky breath. "You need to come home."

Home. As if I had a home to go back to.

"Katie, I can’t. I told you—"

"Your godmother is dead, Nova."

The words didn’t make sense at first.

Dead? Dead.

"What?"

"She died three days ago. Heart attack and I only found out because the funeral home called the university trying to track down next of kin. You’re listed as her emergency contact."

My godmother. The same woman who’d raised me, neglected me and sold me out for drug money.

Dead.

She is dead.

"I’m sorry," Katie continued. "I know things were complicated between you two. But they need someone to handle her affairs. And Nova..." Her voice dropped. "There are people here. Asking questions. Looking for you."

My blood ran cold. "What people?"

"I don’t know. But they’re asking about you. About where you went. If anyone’s heard from you." Katie paused. "I think you need to come home and handle this before—"

"Before what?"

"Before they find you themselves."

The line went dead and I just stood there, phone in my hand, staring at nothing.

Six years.

Six years of hiding. Six years of being Elizabeth Moore.

And in one phone call, it was all crumbling.

Behind me, I heard Sam’s footsteps.

"Elizabeth?" His voice was gentle, concerned. "Who was that?"

I turned to face him. This man who loved me. Who loved my boys. Who’d just kissed me like I was his entire world.

This man who didn’t even know my real name.

"Sam," I said, my voice shaking. "We need to talk."