Tell Me No Lies

by A. V. Geiger

  “No. I want to make it to the border before we stop.” He made an effort to relax his hands, but the more he tried, the harder they gripped. Maybe she was right. Maybe he wasn’t fine. Maybe he wouldn’t be fine for a long time.

  He turned the wheel and glided the van to a stop on the shoulder of the freeway. “I just need a sec,” he said, but he could hear the tightness in his voice.

  Tessa covered his hand on the steering wheel. “Breathe,” she said.

  She was staring at him hard now. Eric looked away, ashamed. He didn’t want her worrying about him. He was supposed to be taking care of her, not the other way around. She was the one who’d been through an ordeal that nearly took her life.

  She disappeared into the back of the van, riffling for something in her duffel bag.

  “I don’t need my Xanax. I’m fine!” His voice came out more exasperated than he intended. That was one thing he’d realized about himself in the month since he and Tessa took up residence in the van. He’d always had triggers, same as Tessa, but his fear usually expressed itself as irritability and anger. It was only recently—as he wrapped his head around Maury’s betrayal—that he fully understood the anxiety that lay beneath.

  Tessa reemerged with something in her hands, but it wasn’t a pill bottle. Eric recognized the spiral-bound journal that she used to record her thoughts. “Talk to me,” she said. “Tell me what’s going through your head.”

  • • •

  Tessa watched Eric’s face, waiting for him to speak. He pinched the bridge of his nose, and his overgrown bangs fell forward into his eyes. Tessa recognized the pose. She’d seen photos of him like that: the tortured artist after a long day in the studio. It would sell a ton of copies if he ever put out an acoustic album with a shot like that on the cover.

  Maybe someday. Tessa wondered if he would miss his old life as a musician. She had a feeling he would stage a comeback eventually. But for now, she knew that pose wasn’t a performance. He’d been getting his headaches on a daily basis. She couldn’t tell if they came from tension or inactivity, spending all day holed up inside a van.

  Why did she feel like he was showing signs of agoraphobia? Was she projecting? He wasn’t housebound. He was comfortable enough to leave home and drive to Mexico. But Tessa knew agoraphobia could be more subtle than that. She saw him making excuses to stay inside the van with the curtains drawn. He’d spent the past month wrapping up his affairs, and he’d conducted most of the conversations with lawyers and accountants over the phone. The only human being he’d interacted with in person was her. He would listen to the radio, but he refused to go online. And then there was the question of the cell phones he’d chucked off the side of a mountain…

  Maybe that’s what agoraphobia looked like in the smartphone age.

  Tessa sighed. He hadn’t answered her, but she could guess what he had on his mind. She wished she hadn’t brought up Maury. She knew it would set him off. “Eric,” she said softly. “No one’s asking you to forgive him.”

  “I just don’t understand.” He looked up and met her eyes. “How can you go on, knowing he still exists somewhere in the universe…and not want to hunt him down and bash in his skull with a rock?”

  His hands clenched on the steering wheel again. Tessa peeled one hand free and cradled it. She could feel the sweat of his palm—a physiological response, thoroughly predictable. Adrenal glands fired. Palms went damp. “Fight or flight,” she said. “You’re all about fight, but I’d rather run away. I’d be perfectly happy never to see Maury again.”

  He shook his head. His voice was low and raspy, but she heard him clearly enough. “I’m not talking about Maury. I’m talking about Blair.”

  Tessa looked down at her lap. A month had passed since her release from the hospital, and she still refused to speak her stalker’s name. Maury, she could talk about. Not Blair. The police kept coming by, asking questions, but Tessa shut them down. They could prosecute Blair without her if they liked. She didn’t want any part of it. She didn’t have the stomach to sit before him in a courtroom and look him in the face.

  Eric knew where she stood. They’d fought about it more than once. Why did he have to bring it up again?

  “Tessa, you have to press charges. They’ll let him walk!”

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t care if he saved your life!” His eyes went hard. “He’s a predator. He doesn’t get a free pass.”

  “I know, but—”

  “You have to protect yourself.” Eric turned toward her, clutching both her hands firmly in his grasp. “That has to come first, before kindness.”

  Was that what he thought? Tessa’s eyebrows rose. She supposed that used to be her motto.

  Her entire worldview, summarized in meme form. If only life were truly that black and white. She still believed in kindness, of course. She believed in battles too. It was the “always” part she could no longer stand behind.

  She pulled her hands free and looked out through the windshield into the deep, black nothingness around them. “It’s not about kindness,” she explained. “It’s about moving forward.”

  Tessa understood that now. She could never rely on prison cells and courts of law to keep her phobias at bay. She would never truly be free of Blair Duncan for as long as they both drew breath—not until she found a way to live her life without thinking of him every single day.

  She looked at Eric. He pitched forward with his forehead resting against the steering wheel, massaging the base of his skull with his fingers. Tessa reached out to him and pulled his head into her lap.

  “Take a deep breath,” she instructed, and she felt the inrush of air against her knees. “That’s it. Hold it while I count. Tijuana one…Tijuana two…Tijuana three…Tijuana four…Tijuana five…”

  His shoulders relaxed as she led him through the exercise and worked her soothing fingers through his hair.

  “How’s that? Better?”

  Eric sat back up, rubbing the back of his neck. “A little.”

  She’d set her thought journal on the dashboard. Tessa picked it up and dropped it in his lap. Then she jerked her thumb toward the back of the van. Eric frowned at her, confused.

  “Go ahead,” she said. “I want you to write a journal entry. Write down whatever you’re feeling, and then we’ll talk about it later.”

  He wrinkled his nose. She knew what he was thinking. Who was she to dole out secondhand psychotherapy? She had enough to deal with on her own.

  But she’d been on this road a lot longer than he had. She’d learned a thing or two about anxiety in the past year. If she could find a way to leave behind Blair Duncan, maybe she could help him shake the specter of Maury Gilroy.

  “Writing,” she said. “It’ll help with the headaches. Trust me. I’ve been where you are.”

  He looked at the journal with its well-worn cover. “This seems like it’s not your job.”

  Tessa almost replied with a snarky comeback, half-formed inside her head. Something about iTherapy apps and shattered screens…and boyfriends who made a habit of throwing away people’s phones without permission.

  But she held the words inside. Eric didn’t need a joke. His fears were not the kind that he could easily laugh away.

  He needed love.

  He needed kindness.

  He needed treatment from a qualified professional, and she would talk him into that eventually. But for now, all he had was her.

  Tessa turned and ran a finger along his chiseled jaw. So perfect, she thought. And yet so flawed. “Eric, do you remember what you said the night we met?”

  “I say a lot of things. Which part?”

  She scooted closer. “We were sitting in my driveway, side by side in a parked car. And I told you what a mess I was, but it didn’t scare you off.” A lock of hair fell in his eyes, and Tessa swept it away with her thumb. “‘I know you.’ That’s what you told me. ‘I know your weaknesses, and you know mine.’ And, Eric, that’s the heart of it. T
hat’s the truest thing you ever said, and it meant more to me than any love song you could write.”

  Eric caught her hand and pressed a kiss into her palm. “I love you, snowflake,” he whispered.

  He hadn’t called her that in a long time. Tessa tried to go on smiling, but she felt like she might cry. She held the feeling in, buried deep inside. He needed to focus on his own battle. Not hers. She kept her face blank, just the way Dr. Regan used to look at her—the human equivalent of a white noise machine.

  “You write,” she said. “I’ll drive.”

  Eric chewed his lower lip. He flipped the journal open and shuffled past her old entries until he came to a clean page. “Does any of this therapy crap work?”

  “Of course,” she answered with a tiny smile. “Look at me. I’m the poster child for mental health.”

  Eric laughed, but he didn’t argue. He plucked her pencil free from its spiral metal cage. Then he crawled backward through the gap between the seats, and Tessa took her place behind the wheel.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Let me begin by thanking my readers. I heard from many of you in the months since Follow Me Back hit the shelves: Wattpad followers cheering for me online and new readers who discovered my work in print. Your passionate responses have lifted me up, helped me to grow as a writer, and pushed me to make this sequel the best book it could be. I thank each and every one of you who took the time to reach out, write reviews, share my work with fellow readers, or respond to my words in your own way.

  I must also acknowledge the writing community who embraced me as one of their own. I can’t tell you how much it means to have dear friends going through the same ups and downs at every stage of this publishing adventure. Thank you to my fellow 2017 debuts and to my family of Wattpad authors for your wisdom and encouragement. To Kayla Olson and Jordan Lynde, who offered critique on an early draft of this book, I hope you know how deeply I feel indebted. I must also say a word of thanks to Anna Todd, Ali Novak, Paula Stokes, Sandy Hall, and Laurie Elizabeth Flynn, whose kind words about my debut novel meant so much to me.

  To my agent, Myrsini Stephanides, my heartfelt thanks for taking me under your wing and guiding me through every twist and turn. Without your insight and good humor, I would be lost. I’d also be remiss not to thank my former agent, Lydia Shamah, who saw promise in a first draft by an unproven author and set me on this road to a published duology.

  That brings me to my publisher, Sourcebooks, and the amazing group of people who had a hand in the making of this book. Thank you first and foremost to my wonderful editor, Kate Prosswimmer. You have come to know Tessa and Eric nearly as well as I do, and you have helped in countless ways to bring their story to life. I hope you take as much pride as I do in the final product. I am thoroughly grateful as well to the entire Sourcebooks team, including Annette Pollert-Morgan, Elizabeth Boyer, Alex Yeadon, Katy Lynch, Stefani Sloma, Beth Oleniczak, Sara Hartman-Seeskin, and so many others who had a hand in bringing both Follow Me Back and Tell Me No Lies into the world. I could not be more appreciative of the care you have shown in bringing my stories to the printed page.

  Before my words came to a bookstore shelf, however, they first caught fire online within an extraordinary community called Wattpad. I would be nowhere without the incredible people at Wattpad HQ who have opened doors and done so much to amplify my voice. Thank you all, and a particularly hearty thanks to my talent manager, Caitlin O’Hanlon.

  Finally, a word of gratitude to my family: Helene, Alex, Ted, Debbie, Allan, Gail, Jeanne, my children, and above all, David. This book would not exist without your endless love, patience, and support.

  Thank you for sharing in my hopes and believing in my dreams.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  A. V. GEIGER is an epidemiologist who spends far too much spare time on social media. By day, she studies women’s psychiatric and reproductive health. By night, she can be found fangirling, following people back, and photoshopping the heads of band members onto the bodies of unicorns. Her writing career began with celebrity fan fiction, and her work draws extensively on her own experiences with online fan culture. Her original teen fiction has received millions of hits on the story-sharing website Wattpad, ranking as high as #1 in the mystery-thriller genre. She lives in New Jersey with her husband and twin boys. Visit avgeiger.com.

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