The LaRusso kitchen was silent except for the soft sound of the kettle on the stove. Sam sat at the table, her hands wrapped around a mug of tea she hadn't even touched, her eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the wood. It had been a week since the chaos at school, a week since Robby had pushed Jack down the stairs, a week since Moon had broken up with him. The weight of guilt still suffocated her, but she tried to keep her head up, even though it was difficult.
Daniel walked in, his shoulders hunched as if he were carrying the world. He pulled out a chair and sat across from her, his expression serious. "Sam, we need to talk about Robby," he said, his voice low but firm.
She looked up, her heart clenching. "Did you find him?"
Daniel nodded, rubbing his hands together as if trying to warm them. "Me and Johnny. He was on the streets, lost. We tried to help, but he… he decided to turn himself in. He's in juvie now."
Sam felt a lump in his throat, tears burning in his eyes. "Reformatory? Because of me?"
"No, Sam," Daniel cut in, leaning forward. "Because of his choices. He pushed Jack, but no one wanted that to happen. He's trying to do the right thing now, even if it's the hard way."
She wiped a tear away with the back of her hand, the image of Robby in handcuffs cutting like a knife. "I need to talk to him, Dad. I need to tell him I'm sorry."
Daniel sighed, knowing he couldn't protect her from everything. "You can't visit him right now, not without permission. But he has access to emails in there. If you want to write to him, I can help get them to you."
Sam nodded, determination taking shape amidst the chaos. "Thank you, Dad. I'll do that now."
She grabbed her laptop from the living room, sat on the couch, and opened Gmail, her fingers hesitantly hovering over the keyboard. The cursor blinked defiantly, but she took a deep breath and began typing:
Robby,
I know you hate me now, and I don't blame you. What happened at the party, what I did to Jack... it was a mistake, and I'm so sorry. You didn't deserve this. I wanted to find you, to tell you in person, but my dad told me where you are. I don't know if you'll read this, but I needed to tell you that I care about you. I always have. I hope you can forgive me someday.
Sam
She hit send before she could change her mind, her heart racing. She didn't know if Robby would respond, or even open the email, but it was a step. A ray of hope in the midst of the wreckage she had caused.
Later that day, Sam walked the sterile halls of Reseda Hospital, the smell of antiseptic filling her nostrils. She'd heard from Tory that Jack was getting out tomorrow, and something inside her was urging her to see him before then. It wasn't just guilt—it was deeper, more confusing. She held a cup of coffee she'd bought at the coffee shop downstairs, an excuse for her shaking hands.
When she reached his room, she hesitated at the half-open door. Jack was alone, sitting on the bed, his cast-covered arm propped up on a pillow. He stared out the window, his face pale and his eyes distant, as if the world outside was a place he no longer recognized. The backpack in the corner was already packed, a sign that he would indeed be leaving the next day.
"Jack?" she called, her voice soft, almost shy.
He turned his head slowly, his green eyes meeting hers with a mixture of surprise and wariness. "Sam? What are you doing here?"
She stepped inside, closing the door behind her carefully. "I… brought coffee," she said, holding the cup up like a shield. "And I wanted to see how you were doing. You're all alone here."
Jack gave a half smile, but there was a softness to it this time. "Tory just stopped by but she had to go to work. I'm fine, Sam. Just waiting for tomorrow."
She walked over, sitting in the chair beside the bed. "You don't look well," she said, her eyes roaming over the cast, the bandage on his forehead, the dark circles under his eyes. "I came to apologize again. I know everything's a mess because of me."
Jack held up his free hand, stopping her with a gentle gesture. "Sam, stop. You don't have to apologize. I forgive you. Completely." He paused, his eyes fixed on hers, filled with something she couldn't name. "Everything that happened… was my fault."
She frowned in confusion. "Your fault? Jack, I was the one who—"
"No," he said, his voice firm but not angry. "It was my fault for not doing something. For not being a real man. You were there, Sam, and I saw how you felt. I knew deep down that you liked me. But I froze. I was scared, like I always was with my mother, with everything in my life. If I had said something, given a sign, anything… you wouldn't have kissed Robby. None of this would have happened."
Sam was silent, his words echoing in her mind like thunder. She felt tears well up, but she held them back, shaking her head. "You can't put everything on yourself, Jack. I made choices too. I kissed you at the party. I hurt Moon, Robby… you."
"And I let it happen," he said, leaning forward a little, even though the movement hurt. "I know you, Sam. You're strong, loyal, someone I've always wanted to protect. And I failed at that. I failed you, I failed Moon, I failed myself. This broken arm? It's the least of my punishments."
She got up from her chair and sat down beside him on the bed, hesitant but driven by something she couldn't ignore. "You didn't fail me," she said, placing her hand over his, the one that wasn't in a cast. "You're the sweetest, kindest boy I know. Always helping others, even when you're broken inside. That's why I fell in love with you, Jack. These feelings… they're real. And I know it's all wrong right now, but I can't let it go."
Jack looked down at her hand in his, the warmth of it like a beacon in the midst of the storm he felt inside. "I forgive you, Sam," he repeated, his voice softer now. "But I don't know what to do with this. Moon broke up with me. Robby's in juvie because of me. And Johnny… he's my father, and I don't even know what that means. I'm lost."
"Then let me help you," she said, squeezing his hand gently. "You're leaving tomorrow, and I didn't want you to leave without telling you. You're not alone, Jack. I know who you really are, from everything you've been through. And I want to be your shoulder to cry on, even if I don't deserve it."
He was silent for a moment, his eyes shining with tears he didn't let fall. "You deserve more than I can give you right now," he murmured, but didn't pull his hand away. "But… thank you. For being here."
For a moment, they just stood there, the sound of the heart monitor filling the void. Sam knew there was no easy fix, but this moment—the touch, the confession, the forgiveness—was a start. She knew the real Jack, the boy who made her laugh in the park, who stood up to bullies for strangers, and she couldn't let him go. No matter how much it hurt.
Outside the room, Tory stood, her body rigid against the wall next to the half-open door. She had gone back to get the keychain she had forgotten on the table next to Jack's bed—an old keychain with a snake charm that Miguel had given her—but what she heard made her freeze. Every word Jack and Sam said echoed in his mind, cutting like sharp blades.
She'd met Jack on the school rooftop, a loyal boy, someone who fought for others without a second thought. That day, she'd seen a mirror in him—someone who understood the weight of carrying the world on one's shoulders. He was pure in a way few were, and Tory had clung to that, even if she'd never admit it out loud. But then he'd changed. Some time later, the Jack she'd known had begun to lose his way, and now, listening to him talk to Sam, she knew LaRusso had a hand in it.
"I forgive you completely," he said. "It was my fault for not being a real man." Jack's words stirred something inside her, a mixture of anger and something she didn't want to name. Tory was with Miguel now, and he was good to her—solid, reliable, someone who made her smile even on her bad days. But hearing Jack open up to Sam like that, taking the blame, talking about feelings she never imagined he held… it shook her.
She clenched her fists, her knuckles turning white. How could he blame himself for her? She thought, her heart pounding. LaRusso is a snake, and he's falling for her again. But there was more there, something burning deep in her chest—a pang of jealousy she didn't understand. It wasn't like what she felt for Miguel; it was different, more confusing, like a part of her ached to see Jack so vulnerable with someone else.
Tory took a step back, the keychain forgotten for now. She wasn't going to go in there, wasn't going to interrupt. But their words stayed with her, echoing as she walked away down the hallway. Jack was loyal, sweet, a tiger who fought for everyone but himself. And she knew, deep down, that what she felt for him wasn't just friendship. Not anymore.