Tell Me Not to Go Read online

  As I drive home, I wonder what it is about this girl that gets to me. She’s all swearing and sass and dark eyes, but underneath that, there’s a whole lot of intelligence and caring. I want to know her, and that unsettles me. This is supposed to be a fun, hot hookup—something I’ve never had before. I need to be careful not to dive in too deep.

  An image of her crying when I touched her fills my mind, and I try to shake it off.

  Early March is gorgeous here—plenty of blue skies and warm air. Lizzie assures me that the sixty-degree weather is still too frigid for locals, which I find hilarious. Not unlike the drizzle they insist is rain. I throw on my jeans and a T-shirt and speed over to Jude’s.

  On the way, my phone rings, and I answer, thinking it’s Lizzie.

  “Hi Jeff, this is Jocelyn Hill, your mom’s friend.”

  This is why you should never answer the phone without checking caller ID. Mrs. Hill is Mom’s old college roommate, who happens to live in the Bay Area. The minute Mom knew I was moving here, she put in several calls to acquaintances, asking them to invite me over for dinner. In every case, there is a daughter right around my age who is coincidentally single. Mom may not be Mormon anymore, but she still knows how to matchmake like one.

  This is all done under the guise of caring, of course. But really it’s Mom’s way of exerting control. When I graduated high school, I wanted to go to school out of state. I was considering schools in Colorado, Ohio, and Illinois. Mom kept slipping University of Utah brochures under my door. When those were ignored, she had her friends talk it up. Then she started introducing me to girls who had been accepted there. When none of that worked, she sat me down and explained out-of-state tuition, and emphasized how much my brothers would miss me.

  Then one day, my brother Michael, who has Down syndrome, told me he didn’t want me far away. That he would be scared without me. Michael and I have always been close. It was my bed he crawled into when he was little and had nightmares, because he said I made the monsters go away. So University of Utah it was.

  I never asked Mom if she put Michael up to that; I don’t think I could have lived with hating her for it if she had.

  Since I left Utah to live my own life, now is as good a time as any to draw battle lines.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hill.”

  “It’s so nice to catch you. I was hoping you’d come to dinner at our house this Saturday—to welcome you to the area. I’m sure your mom told you I’d be calling. My daughter Lindsay will be there, so you won’t be stuck with me and Richard.”

  The urge to be polite has me in its death grip, but I fight back. “Unfortunately I’m all tied up this weekend, ma’am. I appreciate the invite. But I’m settling in really well and already have a full schedule.”

  “Oh. Well, if you’re sure. Maybe another time then.” Her words are clipped and terse, and I know my mother is going to be furious.

  But then again, I’m a grown man—way too old to be fixed up on a date by my mommy.

  “Thanks again for the invitation,” I tell her. And then I hang up the phone.

  The exhilarating freedom is worth the earful I’m going to get.

  Sam’s eyes light up when she opens the door, and then run down the length of my body. All worries about my mother are long forgotten.

  “Be good,” I whisper as I move past her, but all I can think about is the little skirt she’s wearing, and what she might or might not be wearing under it.

  Sam leads me through Jude’s living room to the kitchen, where Lizzie and Jude are cooking. I’ve been to Jude’s house once before. I like how he’s modernized it, so it’s clean and simple inside. The kitchen looks like it’s been updated since last year, too.

  “Need help with anything?” I ask Lizzie.

  “Sit and relax. You, too,” she says, pointing to Jude. “I can finish up.”

  She hands me and Jude a beer and shoos us all into the living room.

  “You guys care if I turn on the hockey game?” Jude asks.

  I sit down on the couch next to Sam. “Definitely not.”

  Jude turns on ESPN and plops down in a chair.

  “That’s icing, you idiot,” Jude yells at the TV, as though the ref can hear him. Can’t say as I blame him.

  “You a Sharks fan yet?” he asks.

  “Hell yes.”

  We clink beer bottles to toast our loyalty. Sam rolls her eyes.

  “Brings back memories of our first fight,” I say to her.

  She leans in to me. “Yeah. You dissed women’s sports.”

  “I did not.” I’m trying to work up a lather, but she crosses her legs and her skirt inches up her thigh. I’m very conscious of Jude being kitty-corner from me. We haven’t told Lizzie anything yet, so I have to keep my attraction to Sam under wraps. Which only makes the situation hotter.

  “You actually watch any women’s sports?” Her voice is normal, but her eyes spark with mischief.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t I watch hot, athletic women?”

  “Too true,” Jude says, not taking his eyes off the TV.

  Sam glances at Jude to make sure he’s absorbed in the game. “Total animals. Both of you.”

  She takes one hand and snakes it under my shirt near my hip. Jude won’t be able to see from his vantage point, but I feel her touch like a burn.

  No way in hell can I let her get away with that, so I put my arm behind her on the couch and trace the back of her neck with one finger. It’s immediately clear that I made a tactical error when she shivers and her nipples go hard. She is not wearing a bra.

  “Are you kidding me?” I whisper in her ear.

  She smiles at me, the devil in her dimples.

  We both pull back from each other when Lizzie comes out of the kitchen.

  “Dinner’s ready,” she says, as Jude gets up and gives her a peck on the cheek.

  But as we head to the table, Jude shoots me a knowing, accusatory look—like he’s on to me.

  I make sure not to make too much eye contact with Sam during dinner, and I avoid Jude’s gaze altogether.

  “I met a girl at the hospital,” Lizzie says as she passes dishes around. “Her name’s Heather. She’s one of the newer nurses. Sam, do you know her?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  Lizzie spoons another helping of chicken piccata onto her plate. “She’s pretty cute. Want me to introduce her to you?” she asks me.

  Sam swallows her water badly and starts coughing.

  I lean forward so Lizzie hears me loud and clear. “Quit trying to hook me up. Seriously.”

  “I’m trying to help you make friends. Heather is really sweet.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but I meet lots of women on my own, Lizzie.”

  “Lots?” Sam asks, her tone frosty.

  This girl has a serious lack of a filter.

  It must be clear to Jude by this point what is going on, because, bless his soul, he jumps in to save the day. “Babe, I heard from Ryan today.”

  All chatter at the table stops. Things must be so awkward between Jude and his brother, considering Jude swept in and stole Lizzie. Lizzie says it wasn’t like that, but if one of my brothers went after my girl, how could I ever look at his face again without punching it?

  “Oh, what did he say?” Lizzie asks, tension evident in her voice.

  “He still loves Japan. Tried to tell me a bunch of political stuff that’s happening there. He’s going to travel when his teaching job ends, so he’ll be home in early August.” Jude leans back in his chair, seemingly at ease. I wonder if that’s really the case.

  Lizzie goes still. “That’s great. We’ll need to make sure I’m cleared out of the house by then.”

  Jude’s eyes turn steely. “No.”

  “What do you mean?” Lizzie asks.

  Now it’s me and Sam who are the spectators.

  “I mean you should move in when school is over.”

  Lizzie’s back goes straight. We all go quiet for a moment.
/>   “But then Ryan won’t feel comfortable living here,” Lizzie finally says.

  “You’re the one that keeps telling me he’s all grown up. He can live on campus or find an apartment. I can help him out with the rent for a while if he needs it.”

  “We haven’t even discussed this. And now’s not the time.”

  Lizzie makes the same pinched expression that Mom does when she’s embarrassed.

  Jude makes a sweeping gesture with his long arms. “Why not? You’re going to tell Sam and Jeff all about it anyway. I want you in my bed. Every day, every night.”

  “Oh, jeez,” I say, as Sam shakes her head.

  “We can talk about it later,” Lizzie says, her words soft, but final.

  A thought occurs to me, and I let out a sharp bark of laughter. Sam looks at me like she’d tape my mouth shut if she could.

  “What?” Lizzie asks, annoyed.

  “He’s going to have to face Dad.”

  “What?” Now Jude is confused. He hasn’t met my parents yet.

  “They don’t believe in living together before marriage. So if you two move in together, be ready to face the gauntlet.”

  “Are you serious right now?” Sam asks. “This isn’t the eighteen hundreds. Lizzie can do what she wants.”

  I take a long pull on my beer. “She sure can. But there’s still going to be hell to pay.”

  “I’m not worried about it,” Jude says, his cocky swagger in full effect.

  “You should be.” I smile at Lizzie, and she flips me off.

  The tension eases after dinner as Jude and I finish watching the game while the girls talk.

  I start to think I’m out of the hot seat with Jude, but as I leave, he pulls me aside.

  “How long has that been going on?” He gestures in Sam’s direction.

  “It’s new.”

  “Guess I’m not surprised. Lizzie said you two didn’t like each other, but I see she was wrong.”

  I rotate my head to relieve the ache in my neck. “I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

  “Fine, dude. But you need to tell your sister.”

  “I will.”

  “Soon?”

  “Soon enough.”

  He slaps me on the back, like he’s already part of the family.

  “Good. Because if you don’t, I’m going to have to.”

  Arrogant bastard. I can almost see why Lizzie likes him.

  “Good thing I’ve been running regularly,” Sam says between breaths.

  I’m too winded to answer her. But then again, I did the lion’s share of the work. If you call having sex with Sam work, which I definitely don’t.

  “Bonus points for creative use of the ladder,” she says.

  “That was more about impatience, but thank you.”

  She laughs. “Looks like you’ve been working on that list of things to do to me.”

  “That was pure improvisation.” Somehow, Sam’s skirt came off while we were still downstairs. So I made her climb up the ladder first.

  “Pretty quick on your feet.” She runs a fingertip over my ear.

  “Yeah, not too shabby. But you provided the inspiration.”

  She props her head up on her hand, her hair snaking down her shoulders and breasts. “Glad I could help you get spontaneous.”

  Her face is glowing in the low light.

  “Your eyes are beautiful.” I’m not sure where that came from, but I don’t want to take it back.

  Her smile dissipates as her face becomes guarded. She doesn’t seem like someone who would be shy about taking a compliment. So what is she afraid of?

  “Did I see a banjo downstairs?”

  I let her change the subject.

  “Yes. And a guitar. I play them both.”

  Her nose scrunches.

  “Is that weird to you for some reason?” I ask.

  “My dad plays the banjo. So that’s a little creepy.”

  “I hate to kill the mood even more, but since you brought up family . . . we need to talk to Lizzie.”

  Sam gets quiet—probably thinking of all the possible outcomes of telling my sister, just like I am.

  “I want to talk to her first, if that’s okay,” Sam says. “I’ll do it tomorrow. But how do I put this in the best possible light?”

  “Tell her the truth. That we like spending time together.”

  “Yeah.” Sam gets up and gets dressed. As she shimmies her skirt on, I think about what we’ve been doing for the past hour, and I want to do it all over again.

  “I’m going to change your mind about that banjo,” I tell her as I kiss her goodnight.

  “Not in this lifetime, sugar. My parents made me listen to too much folk music. I’m scarred for life.”

  I chuckle. “Good luck with Lizzie tomorrow.”

  “Thanks. I’m going to need it.”

  She gives my butt a squeeze and heads out into the night.

  It’s only after she’s gone that I realize Eva is sitting on her back porch reading a thick novel. She’s less than thirty feet from my front door, which means she probably saw me get groped.

  I pass Eva and Diego often as we come and go from the house, but I haven’t made any effort to talk to them—or to apologize. No time like the present.

  “Didn’t mean to intrude,” Eva says as I approach her. There’s a glass of something sitting next to her. “I come out here sometimes after Diego’s asleep.”

  “You didn’t. I’m just glad you didn’t get more of an eyeful.”

  She sets her book down on a wicker side table, making sure to put a bookmark where she left off. “She seems nice. Funny.”

  “She is.” All of that and a lot more. “Hey, so I’ve been meaning to come over and talk to you.”

  “Is something wrong with the place?” She rubs the back of her long, graceful neck with one hand. She’s probably stiff from reading.

  I shake my head. “I wanted to apologize. For the way I treated Diego the day I moved in.”

  “Not everyone is comfortable with kids. And he shouldn’t have invaded your space.”

  Nice of her to try and give me the out, but that makes me feel like an even bigger jerk. “I was rude to him and there was no excuse. And I do like kids.”

  “Okay, well, thanks. I’ll still make sure he doesn’t get in your hair.”

  I put my hands in my pockets, frustrated that she thinks I’m the kind of guy who can’t stand to be inconvenienced by a child.

  “No, please don’t do that.” I pause, not wanting to air my laundry in front of a stranger, but hating the idea that Eva thinks badly of me. “I let old memories get away from me and took it out on Diego. That’s all.”

  She stays quiet, and I respect her for it. She can sense there’s more I need to say, but she doesn’t rush me and I take the bait.

  “I almost had a son Diego’s age. We, uh, lost him before he was born.”

  “I’m sorry.” Eva leans forward on her knees.

  “I know it shouldn’t be painful all this time later. I don’t think about it much. But Diego just reminded me.”

  “There’s no rhyme or reason to grief.”

  “I guess that’s true.”

  Eva tips her head, her chin-length hair hanging to one side. “You would have been a young parent, like I was.”

  “Wouldn’t have been easy.”

  “No. And it’s not easy being a single mom, either. But we do okay.”

  “I’ve seen Diego’s dad come pick him up. Do they have a good relationship?”

  Eva’s face falls, and I can tell this is a source of pain for her. “Mostly. He tries really hard. But he couldn’t be the husband he wanted to be, and he’s not always the dad he needs to be, either.”

  I assumed that Eva was single by choice. Now I realize that she may be single, but she’s not unattached. I’m sure finding the energy for a relationship on top of everything she deals with must be hell.

  “Tell Diego he can come by anytime,” I say. />
  Her smile feels like a reward for manning up and apologizing. “Okay. But I’ll leave out the ‘anytime’ part when I tell him. Trust me on that one.”

  Chapter 11: Sam

  85 Days Left

  “How did studying go last night?” Lizzie takes another bite of her scrambled eggs.

  She and I are both busy today, so this is the only time we’ll see each other. Which means I need to tell her about Jeff. Right now. I don’t keep anything from Lizzie, and the guilt this past week has been intense. Sort of lost sight of it because of how much fun I’m having flirting with Jeff, but it’s time to pay the tab.

  I shovel in another forkful of eggs and deflect her question. “These are really good.”

  I get up and clear the plates when we’re done. Buys me another minute to formulate my strategy. It’s not like I think Lizzie is going to do anything bad to me when she finds out. Her idea of holding a grudge is not baking someone cookies. But that’s the thing. I’m afraid of hurting her, not the other way around.

  “Why is my brother texting you?” Lizzie is standing at the table, glancing down at my phone, which I left sitting there.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath. Way to be stealthy.

  “I didn’t mean to snoop, it popped up and caught my eye.”

  I stare at Lizzie as her face transforms from perplexed to angry to hurt in the space of a second.

  “I was about to talk to you,” I say, knowing it sounds like a lie.

  Her face straightens out, along with her spine. “Then talk.”

  “I’m seeing your brother.”

  She rests her hip on the table. “What?”

  “We’re dating.” Which is the nicest possible way to frame it.

  “How long?”

  “Just a week.”

  “But you don’t even like each other.” Her arms fold around her, like she’s wounded.

  “Turns out it was sexual tension. Surprise,” I say, shaking my hands in the air.

  Lizzie shakes her head so hard her hair swings back and forth. “No. Too soon for jokes. Give me a minute.”

  “’Kay.” I sit down in my chair and take a deep breath.