Promise Me This (13 page)

Jessie

The first quarter had already begun as we climbed through the crowded stands. Cameron and his friend Ryan were bouncing with excitement, and as I took in all the die-hard sports nuts in the home team’s cheering section, I realized that college games didn’t look much different than high school games. The stands were larger, had more rows, but the fans were probably the same.

“Sit wherever you can find a spot for all of us,” I yelled up to my brother who had looked back at my mom and me questioningly. He went about halfway up the stands and then began scooting past people to get to the middle of one of the rows. As I made my way over people’s legs, I immediately spotted Nate in the seats below and froze. Shit.

He was sitting with what looked like his parents and a pretty blond girl. My stomach plummeted immediately. Had he brought that girl with him to his brother’s game? I looked behind me at my mother, considering going back, and while I was contemplating my next move, this big guy began to make impatient noises because apparently I was blocking his girlfriend’s view. Right at that moment Nate turned to see what the commotion was behind him and his eyes zeroed in on me.

His lips parted in shock as if this was the last place he’d ever think to see me.
Tell me about it.
I forced my legs to keep sidestepping down the row until we were directly behind him. Awkward with a capital
A
.

The pretty blond girl next to him turned as well and looked me up and down. It could have very well been my colorful hair and tattoos, because I got that stank-eye often. Or it could have been curiosity about whom Nate, who was clearly there with her, was staring at.

But hold on a minute, Nate didn’t date. Was this a setup his parents had arranged? The girl certainly fit the bill.

Hi, Blue,” Nate said, his voice tentative, his eyes skating over to my brother and his friend, possibly recalling our earlier conversation. “I see you made it to a game.”

“Hey,
Square
,” I said, to set a level playing field. Then I grimaced. Was I trying to make the girl think I knew Nate better than she did? I didn’t do that kind of thing so I quickly pulled my shit together. “My brother wanted to come today since the Panthers will be going on the road next week.”

He nodded and then repositioned himself so that he could face me better in his seat.

“Nate,” I said, leaning over and catching my mom’s eyes, which widened in response. “This is my mom, my brother, Cameron, and his friend, Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Walters.” Nate gave a half wave to my mom and then to my brother and friend. Nate’s mom, dad, and date all turned to stare at us. His mom wore a half smile, his father a half glare.

“Hey, Cam,” I said, getting my brother’s attention. “Nate’s brother, Luke, is a linebacker for the Panthers.”

Cameron’s wide eyes drifted to the players’ bench and back to Nate. “You’re Luke Connors’s brother? He’s a beast. Right, Ryan?”

“Totally,” his friend said. “That’s my position, too.”

Nate’s mother now wore a shocked expression, probably because I seemed to know some information about her family. His dad’s eyes were drawn together in confusion and the girl next to Nate had something that looked like pride on her face. What the hell?

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Nate’s father as my stomach pitched and rolled knowing that he’d taken out his anger and whatever the hell else on this family.

Mr. Connors was a large man, easily over six feet tall. He could effortlessly snap Nate’s mother’s small frame in two. Yet here this family sat, looking normal and mostly comfortable, hiding behind all of that history. I guess you just never knew a person.

I saw a flash of distress course through Nate’s eyes as his gaze followed mine to his father. I shook my head at him, telling him in my own way not to worry, that I wouldn’t betray his trust.

I got now why people tried to keep such ugliness hidden. Because I wanted to spit in Mr. Connors’s face as he regarded me with distaste, probably thinking I wasn’t good enough for his son. That maybe only blond privileged Barbies were.

“Uh, this is my mom and dad,” Nate said turning awkwardly in his seat toward them. They nodded out of politeness, his mother’s gesture warmer than his father’s. “And this is my brother’s girlfriend, Anna.”

His brother’s girlfriend. Now that made more sense. It was so ridiculous for me to feel relief, but I did. She pushed her beautiful hair over her shoulder and said, “Hi.”

The stands erupted over a touchdown and we settled in to watch more of the game.

Over the course of the second quarter, what I noticed about Nate’s family was that they were awkward and stiff. His father spoke to Anna but never to Nate. Nate only really addressed his mother.

I felt a text buzz in my pocket and I pulled out my phone. It was from Nate who was sitting almost directly in front of me.

Well this is awkward.

Me:
Kinda sorta. Doesn’t have to be.

Him:
Thanks for acting . . . normal.

My mother leaned over and nudged me. “Who’s texting you?”

“Nate,” I whispered.

She smiled and shook her head.

Him:
Where’s you giant foam finger? Can’t believe you showed up without it.

Me:
Where’s you colossal monster? Bet he’d have a cheering section all to himself.

He stole a quick look over his shoulder and grinned at me.

We texted silly shit throughout the first half, which made the game way less boring.

During halftime his father got up and announced he needed to leave to catch his flight to St. Louis. He gave his wife a chaste kiss on the lips that left her looking disconcerted, he barely acknowledged Nate, and then said a warm good-bye to Anna.

Once he departed, the air seemed to transform and lighten. Nate turned in his seat to chat with me, Anna walked down to greet to some friends, and my mom got into a friendly conversation with Mrs. Connors about several different topics including work and charity groups.

Nate’s knees kept brushing mine and I felt a shiver race down my spine just as my phone buzzed with another text.

I looked down at my screen and then quickly up at Nate, because he had sneakily sent me another text.

So . . . is the offer still open to come with me to my first counseling appointment?

I quickly texted back.

Of course. Just tell me when and I’ll do my best to make it work.

I watched him blow out a breath as he read his text. And then he steadily typed his reply.

It’s Tuesday at 10 am. Maybe you can meet me in the student center right before?

I stared into his eyes for a long moment before giving my reply.

Sounds good.

The second half began and Nate swung back around to talk to his mom. My pulse was pounding at our exchange. He considered me a friend and I was glad for it, because I liked hanging out with him. A lot. But I couldn’t help wanting more. So much more.

My text buzzed in my pocket again and I pulled out my phone to read Nate’s message.

You look really pretty today. You always look pretty, Blue.

I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply like some schoolgirl with a crush. When I reopened them, Nate was staring over his shoulder, the one side of his mouth quirked into a sexy grin.

You’re pretty handsome yourself, stud.

Our texts quieted after that and the game turned into a nail-biter with the score being tied in the last two minutes. But the Panthers pulled through. Cameron and Ryan hadn’t sat down the entire fourth quarter as they jumped around and yelled.

“Want to wait around to meet my brother, Luke, and some of the other players?” Nate asked.

Cameron and Ryan were geeked about that idea, so we stood outside the locker room after the game. Nate’s mom smiled at him and her eyes grew warm. When he leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek my heart practically leapt out of my chest at the sweet gesture.

Luke emerged freshly showered and was polite enough to us, even entertaining questions from my brother and his friend. All the while, though, he seemed most interested in getting Anna home. He was way bulkier than Nate but not as good-looking, and I hoped to God he didn’t throw his weight around like his father did. I stopped short of asking Nate that question last weekend, maybe because I was afraid of the answer.

After Luke and Anna made their exit, Cameron and Ryan announced that they were starving.

“Me, too,” my mother said and then turned to Mrs. Connors. “Would you like to join us for some burgers at Five Guys?”

She looked uncomfortable at first, maybe not sure what she should say to this, but then Nate said, “That would be great. I’m hungry too, Mom.”

She smiled at him and I was suddenly glad that our families had connected, especially since our mothers seemed to find common ground.

We met at the diner, where we stuffed our faces, and Nate and I shared fries.

By the time we left our legs were practically intertwined beneath the table. Nate had gradually slid his feet over, successfully sheathing mine with his own.

I thought about repositioning myself for exactly one second before the thought flitted from my brain. Just having that warm, steady, and secret contact with him made me feel closer to him, despite my heart throttling unsteadily in my chest.

An hour later we said our good-byes and were on our way home. By that time I felt heated from top to bottom, and even more so after Nate’s final fiery glance in my direction.

After the boys exited the car, Mom reached over. “Honey, that family . . .”

“I already know what you’re going to say, Mom.”

“I could feel it radiating off of them,” she said, her eyes bright and troubled.

“Been going on for a long time.”

“That women needs a friend,” she whispered.

“It was very kind of you to talk to her and invite them to eat with us.”

“It wasn’t hard. I liked her a lot,” she said. “I liked Nate as well.”

I nodded.

“He seems taken with you.”

My pulse sped up. “I don’t know, Mom.”

“Just be a friend,” she said, patting my arm. “But don’t give too much of yourself away . . . for now.”

I wondered if maybe I already had.

Nate

Jessie sat waiting for me at a table in the student center. I suddenly felt like a dumbass that I had asked her to meet me at all. I was thrilled to see her, definitely, but I wished it had been under different circumstances.

Because she was like a bright ray of light offering me hope and confidence that maybe I could work through all my shit and find a way to be with her, really be with her, in a healthier way.

I had no damn desire to be with anybody else, but I was still so raw, so petrified. Of who I was, who I might become. And she knew, without uttering a single word that this was my struggle.

Our attraction was off the charts but still I kept her at arm’s length. Nevertheless, she remained who she was, never placing any pressure on me, and I admired and appreciated that.

“It was kind of stupid to ask you to come,” I said as soon as I approached her table. “You probably have plenty of other things to do.”

“Stop, Nate. I’m here for you. Plus, I brought homework,” she said, standing up and gathering her things. “Besides, if you’re a good patient and allow the
dentist
to poke at your cavity, you’ll get a lollypop at the end.”

I just stared at her before I burst into a hearty laugh. It had taken me a moment to remember that she was referencing the first time she urged me to make the appointment.

Without thinking it through, my fingers slid behind her neck and I tugged her toward me, wanting the connection she provided. She was like a salve to my soul.

“You know you’re amazing, right?” I said close to her lips, looking deeply into her eyes.

“I . . .” She was speechless, dumbfounded almost at my sudden mood shift.

“It means a lot that you’d show up here just to sit in a waiting room, Blue.”

“That’s what friends do, right?” she whispered, taking a step back but still holding my gaze. “You nervous?”

“A little. But also . . . ready. To move forward.”

She nodded, her hand reaching up to grip my forearm.

“I guess I better get moving then.”

We walked up the stairs and she took a seat while I checked in at the desk.

As I followed Dr. Drake behind his wood-paneled door, I glanced behind me once more to meet Jessie’s calming gaze.

Dr. Drake led me into a spacious office with soothing tan walls and chairs. His voice was equally comforting. “Have a seat, Nate.”

***

An hour later Jessie was right where I’d left her on a black leather couch in the reception area.

We walked down a flight of stairs to grab some coffees and then sat down at a small wooden table.

“You want to talk about it?” she asked.

“I think today was just about gathering information from me,” I said. “He asked a lot of questions. So I definitely let it all hang out about my family.”

“How did that feel?”

“Scary to say it out loud,” I said. “But then I felt relief, you know?”

She nodded.

“One thing Dr. Drake said was that Mom seems isolated and needs support, even if she never asks for it. Even if that makes her afraid.”

“Makes a lot of sense,” Jessie said. “She can always call my mom, you know.”

I smiled. “Your mom totally rocks.”

“Yeah, she does,” she said, after sipping from her cup. “Does your mom have other close friends?”

I shook my head. “I don’t think so. Not anymore. She used to be really close to her sister—Kai and Dakota’s mom.”

“What about your uncle, the one you said owns the racetrack?”

“Same thing,” I said, realizing just how far removed my mother had become from the people she once sought comfort from. “So Dr. Drake gave me a bunch of pamphlets with numbers on them to give to Mom.”

“You think she’ll take them?”

“I don’t know. For starters, I’d to need to tell her why I have them in the first place.”

Jessie reached her hand across the table and warmth flooded my chest. “It’ll all work out, Square.”

***

I’d made a habit of walking past the fine arts building on campus the past few days in the hopes of running into Jessie. And today, it had paid off. She slung her bag over her shoulder as she pushed through the door and then paused as her eyes met mine.

A smile lifted the corner of her mouth and my heart thudded in response.

“Where you headed?” she asked as she neared me.

“Library, I guess,” I said. “But it’s such a nice day, I thought I’d just keep walking. Want to tag along?”

She hesitated only momentarily before saying, “Sure.”

We walked and talked not paying any attention to the time or the direction we were headed. It just felt good to be in her space again.

“How’s your bridge project going?”

“Great,” she said. “I was just coming from the campus darkroom.”

I arched an eyebrow. “So no windows and it really gets completely black in there?”

“Yeah, for a portion of the time.”

My lip titled into a mischievous grin.

“Have you ever—” before I could get the words out, she slugged me in the arm.

“No!” she said, her cheeks tinting pink. “You horndog.”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t considered it before.”

“Nope,” she said, not meeting my eyes. “Never even crossed my mind.”

I laughed and then grabbed for her fingers, without even thinking twice about it. “Somebody is so not telling the truth right now.”

She rolled her eyes but didn’t tug her hand away. Instead she adjusted her grasp in mine and my skin tingled from the contact. “Whatever.”

“So you were able to get good pictures that weekend?” I asked, wishing she’d let me hold her hand for always.

“Really cool ones,” she said. “I’m considering doing a theme with the exposure level. I’ve learned some things from watching my dad.”

“Maybe I could see his photos someday.” I heard her breath hitch and caught sight of her parted lips in my side view. “I mean, if you ever wanted to show them to me.”

“Yeah, I think I would,” she said quietly. I squeezed her fingers. “Someday.”

We ended up on a familiar street so I slowed down. “Want to get a smoothie?”

She looked up at the Smoothie King sign and then through the window into the crowded shop. “Sounds good.”

I held the door for her and as she stepped through it, I said, “It’s on me.”

She opened her mouth to protest, as I knew she would.

“For coming to the dentist with me last week,” I said.

She burst into laughter and shook her head. “You don’t need to thank me for that.”

I held her gaze. “Yeah, I do.”

“Okay, fine,” she whispered and I felt like I had just won another mini-battle. “When’s your next root canal?”

“In a couple of days.”

“Do you need . . .”

“Nah, I’m good.” I was tempted to say yes if only to be certain to see her again. I loved being around her even if I wasn’t exactly sure what the hell we were doing. “Check in with you after, though?”

“Absolutely.”

We stepped up to the counter to place our orders. “I’ll have a pineapple coconut and . . . Jessie?”

She gave me a funny glance before placing her order for a medium strawberry banana.

As we moved down the line I said, “What was that look for?”

“You just ordered a smoothie with the two flavors I hate most in the entire universe.”

“Are you kidding me? You’ve never had one of those fancy beach drinks, like a piña colada?”

“Gross.” She scrunched up her nose. “Just the thought of those flavors mixing together with any type of alcohol makes me want to gag.”

I shook my head and grabbed our drinks. Jessie continued to surprise me at every turn and I couldn’t keep the smile from tugging at my lips.

I took a huge gulp of my beverage, made a big display of swishing it around my mouth and then leaned toward her lips. “So you wouldn’t want me to breathe anywhere near you right now?”

Her gaze shifted between my lips and eyes and I could’ve sworn I saw a flicker of longing flash in her irises. “Guess you’ll have to keep your distance.”

I cracked a grin and bent even closer. She pumped out one ragged breath. “Are you averse to the smell of suntan lotion as well?”

“Hmmm . . . I guess it’s more the
taste
and not the smell.”

“Taste, huh?” I watched her open her lid and dig a plastic utensil in her cup. “Is that why you’re eating your smoothie with a spoon as opposed to sipping it through a straw, like a normal person?”

“The flavor is stronger this way,” she said and then shoved a heaping serving toward my mouth. “Try it, you’ll see.”

As I swallowed the frozen concoction, she stared at my lips awaiting my reaction. I had the urge to yank her mouth toward mine and sample her sweetness, too.

“Tastes the same to me.” I shrugged. “But now you’ve got my coconut germs on your spoon.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed. “C’mon, walk me back to my car. I’ve got to get to Raw Ink.”

***

My phone rang just as I got home from my appointment with Dr. Drake.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, sinking into my couch and throwing my feet on the coffee table.

Today I expressed to Dr. Drake how much damn effort it took to hold it all inside. He suggested I seek support from close friends, when I was ready. He said I’d be surprised how many people probably already had an inkling about my dad, or how many might have gone through something similar. Lots of people had shitty childhoods, he’d said, and still grew up to create healthy relationships of their own.

“What are you up to, sweetie?”

“I just got home.” I hesitated. But then drew a deep breath. “I just . . . I’ve begun . . . seeing a therapist.”

“What?” she said, her voice panicked. “Why, honey?”

“You know why, Mom,” I said, pretty much expecting that reaction from her. “Our family is messed up and I needed to talk to somebody about how everything has affected me.”

There was silence on the line but I could hear her heavy breaths.

“I . . . I . . . okay, honey. If that’s what you need,” she said. “I’d just recommended you keep that information from your father and brother.”

That’s when I lost it. I rarely argued with my mother, but today I was ready to go toe to toe. “Why, Mom? Is that something I should be embarrassed about? Because I’m tired of feeling shame. In fact, I think I’ve had enough shame to last me a lifetime.”

“Nate, stop it, right this instant,” she said, her voice shaking. “You know your father doesn’t believe in therapy or broadcasting our family secrets.”

“See that’s the problem right there, Mom,” I said. “He’s worried because he’s done some fucked-up things. And he doesn’t want anybody to know about it. So he likes to make threats and keep us under his thumb.”

Her breathing pitched through the phone line but I kept on going.

“But I’m not going to keep pretending that it didn’t happen, that he isn’t who he is. I’m an adult, not a scared little kid anymore,” I said.

“Nate, I don’t think . . . I don’t think you should—” and then she dissolved into tears. I waited her out, moisture pricking the corners of my eyes.

“For the first time in a long while I feel free,” I said, softening my voice. “Relief. Hope.”

“I’m sorry, Nate,” she said, sniffling into the receiver. “So sorry.”

“Mom, please,” I said, thrusting my legs on the floor and standing up. “Leave him, come live with me for a while.”

“What? No, honey, that wouldn’t work at all. You have your own life and . . . you need to finish your degree.”

“Is this about the money, because I don’t give a shit about the money,” I told her. “We can figure this out together.”

“Nate, stop it. I know you worry but I’m fine right where I am,” she said, sounding stubborn as always. “You do what you need to do. And I’ll do the same. Just . . . finish college, find a job, and be happy.”

“Do you know how hard it is to feel any joy when deep down I know you’re not happy?” I growled into the phone while I paced around my apartment. “God, Mom, this is killing me.”

She gasped and sputtered and then finally seemed to find her voice. “Nate, honey, listen. I love you, you’re a wonderful son. But I’ve lived with your father a long time. I chose to be here with him in this marriage, in this house.”

I knew that would be her response but even still it infuriated me. Besides, I could read between the lines. She never once in her response told me that she was in fact happy. She never does.

“Fine. I can’t force you to face up to anything,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I swear to God if he touches you again, he’ll have to deal with me.”

“Honey, no,” she whispered. My heart was in my throat.

I could only change myself. Dr. Drake had said as much today. But it sure fucking felt like I was leaving her to the wolves. Or just one wolf.

“Do me a favor, would you?” I said, sinking back into the chair. “Call Aunt Johanna, Uncle Jack. Just reach out and let people in. Start doing things again, things you enjoy. Can you do that for me?”

There was a long pause. “Ye . . . Yes, of course.”

“I’m going to text you some numbers right after I get off the phone. He doesn’t have to know what they are,” I said. “They’re for support. Please don’t delete them.”