What can I say? Just because it’s not a secret, or a big deal, doesn’t mean I want to talk about it.
“Not a big deal, huh?” Devyn asks sounding less than convinced.
“Nope. I saw Sam. We talked for a few minutes. He went his way. I went mine.” I force a shrug. “No. Big. Deal.”
“You sure about that?” she asks softly.
My throat gets tight and I drop my gaze. Rub at the dot of dried pizza sauce on my tank top.
Both my sisters know what really happened between me and Sam last summer. How our friendship imploded. Why he left.
They witnessed firsthand what a mess I was. How heartbroken. How pathetic.
They got me through.
Jones sisters stick together. Always.
But they don’t know everything.
And they never will.
I lift my head. Nod. “I’m sure.”
She studies me, searching and intense, trying to see in my brain. Trying to dig out my truth.
But there are some things not even a sister can know. Some mistakes too huge. Too humiliating. Some feelings too private to share, even with her.
Like how I felt—how I still feel—after seeing Sam today. After hearing his voice. Angry that he came back, that he approached me after ghosting me for so long.
Confused that a part of me—a big, huge, loud part—was so relieved to see him again. So happy.
Scared that relief and happiness might shove aside everything I need so desperately to hold on to—all the bitterness I’ve felt for almost a year, the pain—leaving me weak. Giving him an opening he’ll take advantage of.
One he’ll use to hurt me again.
“Are you going to hang out with him again?” Dev asks.
Jeez. I hope my fake nonchalant tone is better than hers because hers sucks.
“I didn’t hang out with him today. It was an accidental meeting.”
“Uh-huh. So he didn’t ask you to spend any amount of time with him?”
I roll my eyes. “I’m not going to hang out with him,” I say, leaving out the part about Sam offering me a ride home. About him saying he wanted to talk to me. “I doubt I’ll even see him again while he’s in town.”
“Make sure you don’t,” Dev says, standing. “The last thing you need is him messing with your head again.”
I snort softly as she walks down the short hall off the kitchen toward her bedroom on the far side of the trailer.
Too late for that warning. I’ve spent less than ten minutes with the boy and already my mind’s a tumbling, freaked-out mess.
But it doesn’t matter because, like I told Dev, I probably won’t even see him again. I’m sure he has plans to keep himself occupied for the week or two that he’s in town. Spending time with his family. Catching up with the friends he didn’t completely ditch last year.
And if I do just so happen to see him again, I’ll ignore him.
Sam will not hurt me again.
I won’t let him.
5
My arm lying on the open truck window, I rest my head on the doorframe as we drive down School Street. The morning air is cool and damp on my face and forearm and I breathe in deeply, letting it fill my lungs. And pretend I’m somewhere else. Anywhere else—the wilds of Alaska or a Hawaiian beach. Somewhere far, far away from northwestern Pennsylvania.
Anywhere except the passenger side of one of Glenwood Landscaping’s pickups.
Miles and continents and worlds away from Sam Constable.
I’m not. Far from Sam, that is. Nope, I’m super close. Well, closer than I’d like considering there’s only about two feet of space between us. Empty space.
Where’s Kyle when you need him?
Oh, that’s right, Kyle Caldwell, the college kid I’ve been working with for the past two weeks, is now happily mowing, weeding, trimming and mulching with John Butler and Cody Finlay. Because, as has been noted, Sam is back in town.
And back working for Glenwood Landscaping.
If it wasn’t for crappy luck, I wouldn’t have any luck at all.
Yeah, I know, whine, whine, whine. But I’d talked myself into believing the only time I’d see Sam again was in passing. So much for that hopeful thought.
Although I’m still giving that whole ignoring him thing my best shot.
I sure wasn’t expecting him to be there this morning when I walked into the garage where Mr. Glenwood was assigning today’s jobs. Didn’t think he’d be wearing his green GL T-shirt and a pair of khaki cargo shorts looking like some poster child for hot yard boy. He’d been talking with my coworkers, all chatty and grinning and more comfortable around them than I ever was.
Like he never even left.
Am I the only one who remembers that he did leave? That we all got along just fine without him?
I guess so because not only were Kyle, John and Cody tickled pink to have their buddy back, Mr. G. was ecstatic at the return of his favorite employee. And he obviously thought I’d be equally thrilled to be assigned to work with Sam. Like we used to. After all, Sam’s stepdad helped us get these jobs when we were both fifteen, and the previous two summers we always worked together.
As far as Mr. G. is concerned, it always has been, and always will be, Sam and Hadley. Hadley and Sam.
It’s like we have our own freaking theme song, for God’s sake.
So, yeah, there was much celebration and excitement at my work place this morning.
Whoopee.
And now, as has been noted, I’m in a truck with Sam, who, for some reason, thought it’d be a great idea to get his old job back.
Can’t I have one thing, one simple, little thing, that’s just mine?
Even if it’s a job I hate?
I shift, pretend to check my phone but really sneak a glance at Sam’s profile, his straight nose, the sharp line of his jaw. Yeah, definitely hottie poster child material. The kind that gives a girl all sorts of tingly feelings.
Stupid tingles.
He’s driving in his careful, cautious way, both hands on the wheel, speed just under the limit.
No rule breaking for Sam Constable.
That’s why I thought I was safe being his friend. I figured he’d keep to the rules of that friendship. Stay within the boundaries.
I hadn’t expected him to toss those rules aside. To knock down those boundaries.
Hadn’t expected him to ask for more.
Did I mention he texted me last night just after midnight?
Hey.
That was it. One word. One word more than I’d heard from him in close to a year. Three stupid letters meant to remind me he’s here, in town. That he’s going to be here tomorrow and the day after that and all the days next week and for God only knows how long.
I didn’t need the reminder, thanks all the same. It’s not like I forgot seeing him a few hours before. Worse, memories had bombarded me all night, sneaking up on me when I least expected it. Memories of all the time we spent together.
I’d taken his friendship for granted. Had assumed he’d always be around, would always be a part of my life.
Lesson learned.
Long, painful lesson learned.
Now he wants…well…I’m not sure, but whatever it is, I can’t give it to him.
I can’t go back. I won’t.
So I deleted his text without responding and despite the three dozen freshly baked chocolate chip cookies on the counter and the fact that I had to get up in six hours, I made a double-layer devil’s food cake from scratch with chocolate Swiss buttercream.