Not You Again (The NOT Series Book 1)

by Terri Osburn

  “It was my idea,” I pointed out.

  Jacob nodded toward the sidewalk on our left. “Okay, then. Let’s go have a seat by the fountain and I’ll let you grill me.”

  We’d reached the main shopping area where a courtyard sat closer to the water, offering a beautiful view of the city skyline and featured a long, colorful water fountain. We made our way through the crowd and stepped into the courtyard at the same time a small family vacated one of the benches. The wind coming off the water was cooler now, and I shivered as I lowered onto the seat. Seconds later, I found Jacob’s jacket draped around my shoulders.

  “You’ll get cold,” I said, trying to refuse the offer.

  “I’m never cold,” he stated, ignoring my protests.

  As his heat and scent surrounded me, I leaned back and pulled the coat tight beneath my chin. “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure. Start your questions.”

  As our shoulders met, I could feel the tension running through him. What did he think I was going to ask? His political leanings? His social security number? His number of sexual partners? No one should ever ask that last one. Not unless they wanted to start a fight or develop some new insecurities.

  “Favorite ice cream?” I said, hoping to put him at ease.

  He hesitated before saying, “You can’t judge me for this.”

  “Who judges someone over an ice cream flavor?”

  “You’d be surprised. I like mint chocolate chip.”

  Oh, now I got it. “I love mint chocolate chip. And no, it does not taste like toothpaste.”

  “Are you just saying that?”

  “No, I swear. We can go get some right now. Except I might shiver my teeth out of my skull if we do.”

  “I wouldn’t want you to lose your teeth,” he teased. “Next question.”

  Very considerate of him. “Favorite music?”

  He turned and leaned an elbow on the back of the bench, far more relaxed than when we first sat down. “Most anything, but my favorite group is ONE OK ROCK.”

  What a coincidence. “I saw them in concert like six years ago,” I said. “They’re so good.”

  Dark eyes widened. “You know who they are?”

  Offended, I poked him in the chest. He was rock solid and I nearly forgot my next thought. “Yes, I know who they are. Why is that so surprising?”

  “You don’t look like the Japanese rock music type.”

  “Don’t make assumptions about me, Mr. Kim. I’m much more hip than I look.”

  Failing to hold in his laughter, he said, “My apologies. You’re very hip. Next question.”

  I rattled off the common ones—favorite movie, favorite food, favorite color—to which he gave quick answers. It was time to turn up the heat.

  “Now for the tougher ones,” I said. “Cats or dogs?”

  “Definitely cats.”

  “Ding, ding, ding. Right answer. Coffee or tea?”

  “Both.”

  “Feels like a cop-out, but I’ll let you slide. Call or text?”

  “Call.”

  We hit our first impasse. “Are you a sociopath?” I asked.

  “Is that the next question?”

  “No one calls anymore.”

  “I do. And I’m counting that one. The answer is no, by the way. Next question.”

  Why did I have to find smart-asses so attractive?

  “I’m running out of ideas so one more, and then it’s your turn.” I had to make this one count. What did I really want to know? Watching the fountain shoot water toward the sky in long narrow streams, the perfect question came to me. “Why did you come back for me that night I hit the tree?”

  “Was I supposed to leave a helpless woman on the ground?”

  He was dodging the question. “You showed up too quickly to have only come back because I might be injured. You stopped before I ran into that sycamore, didn’t you?”

  Rubbing his palms on his thighs, he came clean. “Yes, I did. I told myself not to look back, but you were so cute I couldn’t resist.”

  Heat raced up my neck. “You thought I was cute?”

  “I did. You were so determined to get that guy home safe, even though you couldn’t possibly have carried him far. I was impressed that you didn’t give up.”

  That wasn’t the impression I got. “You kept giving me judgy looks in the mirror,” I reminded him. “I thought you found me annoying.”

  “Judgy looks?” he repeated. “I was trying to figure out why you were with that guy. I was actually relieved when you said he wasn’t your boyfriend.”

  Now he was just messing with me. “Relieved?”

  Jacob stretched an arm along the back of the bench and twirled a lock of my hair. “Yeah. I hadn’t even considered dating for more than a year, but I found myself wanting to know everything about this beautiful, capable woman who landed in my car. Which is why I left in such a hurry.”

  My brain was starting to short-circuit. I wanted to lean into him and at the same time I wanted to leap off the bench and run. This was what I’d wanted, but then why did it feel so wrong? The sounds of the river and the crowd around us grew louder in my ears until I couldn’t concentrate on anything Jacob was saying.

  Sensing the panic about to take over, I bolted to my feet. “I should get going.”

  “I didn’t get to ask my questions yet,” he said, rising to stand with me. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m really cold.”

  Looking around, he said, “Do you want to step into one of the stores to get warm?”

  What I wanted was to go home. “I’ll be fine once we’re moving.”

  Looking confused, as he should, Jacob ran a hand through his hair. “Okay, then. Let’s walk.”

  When we reached the street, I turned left, knowing the quickest option to get away was to ride the incline back up to Mount Washington. I could easily walk home from there. Instead of the comfortable pace we’d traveled before, I turned on my downtown power walk, which wasn’t easy in those shoes.

  “Becca, did I do something?”

  “No,” I said far too quickly. “It’s just late and I have to be up early in the morning,” I lied.

  “I can drive you home then.” He stopped to turn around. “My car is in the garage down by the boat dock.”

  I turned to walk backwards but didn’t stop. “You go ahead. I’m going to take the incline.”

  “Wait.” I was practically running by the time he caught me. “Becca, what’s going on? I thought we were having a good time.”

  How did I explain that I couldn’t stop thinking about my dead fiancé? That I was about to have a full-on breakdown in the middle of the street over a man I should have let go of a long time ago? There was no rational explanation for what I was feeling, and knowing that made the panic even worse. This man had seen me flat on my back on the dirty ground, embarrassed and covered in alcohol, and passed out in a crowded restaurant.

  He would not see me crumble into pieces on a city sidewalk.

  “Jacob,” I said, holding up a hand when he reached for me. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do this. I wanted to do this. But I can’t.”

  “You can’t what? We’re just taking a walk.”

  “There’s more than taking a walk going on here. I like you, but I really need to go home.”

  Concern etched in his features, he held up his hands in surrender. “Just let me take you home. You don’t have to talk. I won’t ask any questions. Just let me give you a ride.”

  “I don’t need a ride.” Pointing to the station a half block away, I said, “There’s the incline right there. I ride it all the time. I’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t look fine. I can’t let you walk away like this.”

  “Yes, you can,” I snapped. “I’m sorry. Please. I’ll be fine. Just let me go.”

  That was two lies in a matter of minutes. I was really racking them up.

  “Text me when you get home,” he said. It was an order not a request
.

  “I will.” I didn’t want him to worry, or worse, come looking for me if I didn’t. He knew where I lived, after all.

  “At least call someone else. Someone who can stay on the phone with you while you walk home.”

  A reasonable idea, but I wasn’t kidding when I said I did this all the time. I’d probably made this same trek a couple hundred nights before.

  “I’ll call Josie when I get to the top.” Realizing I was still wearing his coat, I slipped the soft material off my shoulders and handed it over. “Thank you and I’m sorry.”

  “Stop saying you’re sorry. You haven’t done anything wrong.”

  But I did. I shouldn’t have gone on this date any more than I should have gone on the others. Even if I wanted to this time. Without another word, I took one last look at him and then walked away.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I managed to make the ten-minute walk home from the incline station without shedding a tear. Maybe I’d shed my quota in the last two years and there were none left. I didn’t call Josie, as I said I would, but as far as lies went, that was low on my list for the night.

  At the top was going out with a perfectly wonderful man when I had no business doing so. At least this time I couldn’t claim peer pressure. No, I’d gone on this one willingly. Excitedly even. But part of me knew that nothing had changed. That I hadn’t changed.

  I did send the promised text to say I was home. I owed Jacob that much. He’d written back saying that I could call if I needed anything. Without responding, I silenced my phone and tossed it onto the coffee table. I didn’t need that kind of temptation.

  Bundled up in my bunny pajamas, fluffy robe, and a pair of winter socks, I stretched out on the couch under a blanket and after nearly thirty minutes, finally started to feel warm again. Milo slept on my stomach, purring in peaceful contentment.

  “I’m such a mess, buddy,” I murmured, stroking a hand along his soft fur. “Thank you for loving me anyway.”

  Closing my eyes, I tried to shut out everything that happened in the last few hours, but all I could see was Jacob’s face. Smiling as we collected flying bobby pins. Confused when I changed so abruptly. Concerned as I practically ran away from him. I clearly didn’t deserve a guy like him, and he definitely didn’t deserve me and my baggage.

  I sank lower into the couch and pulled the blanket up under my chin, which shifted Milo onto my chest. He continued to purr. Tomorrow was my last day before the real chaos of Amanda’s hiatus would begin. I planned to sleep in, eat lots of comfort food, and not speak to a single, solitary soul.

  The combination of exhaustion and Milo’s purring quieted my thoughts and I felt myself easing into sleep when someone started pounding on my front door like the building was on fire. Heart racing, I heard Josie yelling, “Becca, open up!”

  Sliding to the door in my fluffy socks, I unhooked the chain and flipped the deadbolt before swinging it open. “What’s that matter?”

  “Oh, my God,” she said, enveloping me in a bear hug. “You’re all right.”

  “Why wouldn’t I be all right?” I asked, struggling to speak with my neck in a virtual choke hold.

  Josie pulled back, her hands grasped tightly on my shoulders. “Why aren’t you answering your phone?”

  Could I not get one night of peace? They didn’t need to know every detail of the date within minutes of it ending.

  “I put it on silent. What’s going on? Is someone hurt?”

  “We thought you were!” Blond ponytail swinging, she went from concerned to angry in half a second. “Jacob called Lindsey and said you were upset at the end of the date and he was worried about you. When you didn’t answer her texts or calls, she sent me to check on you.”

  Now I was angry. “I’m not a child who needs to be checked on. Maybe I didn’t answer because I wanted to be left alone. Did anyone think of that? I just want to be alone.”

  “I’m sorry but when someone tells me my best friend, whose gone through some serious shit over the last two years, acts weird and then doesn’t answer her phone, I get worried. Forgive the hell out of me.”

  I stormed back to my couch. “I’ve been a lot of things since Brian was killed, Josie, but suicidal isn’t one of them.”

  “How would I know that?” she said, charging in behind me. “You don’t talk to me. You don’t talk to any of us. You say we don’t bring him up, but you’re the one who wants to pretend that it’s in the past and you’re fine now. Becca, you aren’t fine.”

  “So I’m not fine!” I screamed, spinning and throwing my hands in the air. “The man I was going to spend the rest of my life with was gunned down in cold blood for no reason the day before our wedding. I am entitled to not be fine after that.”

  “Yes, you are. So let yourself be not fine, Becks. Stop pretending that you aren’t still hurting, and let us help you through it.”

  Emotions I’d been suppressing for months bubbled over, releasing the tears I’d thought were done. “Isn’t that what this week was about, Josie? You guys helping me move on by sending me out on these stupid dates. Even when I told you over and over again that I didn’t want to go out with anyone. Damn it, I shouldn’t have to let another man into my life in order for you four to leave me alone.”

  “Becca, we—”

  “Just go back to your apartment and tell Lindsey that she doesn’t need to worry. I’m not doing anything stupid.”

  “I—”

  “Close the door on your way out,” I snapped.

  Shoulders dropping, she shook her head and said, “We love you, Becks. We just want you to be happy again.”

  My friends needed to face reality. “I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen. And if I’m all right with that, then you guys have to be too.”

  Josie opened her mouth to argue, and then closed it again. Hugging her own bathrobe tight across her chest, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  Two words I was ridiculously tired of hearing. I nodded and silently stood my ground until I heard the door click shut behind her. Then I folded to my knees, face pressed against my palms, and cried myself to sleep on my living room floor.

  A week later, I stood in the warm sun in front of a house I hadn’t walked into since the week I lost Brian. As I’d predicted, the first five days without Amanda in the office had been unbelievably busy, but I’d welcomed the constant distraction. When I was working, I didn’t have to think about the past week or the past two years. All of my focus was on the clients, and there wasn’t time for anything else.

  My friends gave me the space I needed. There’d been a few text messages in which they’d attempted to check in without actually asking how I was. I didn’t ignore them, but I didn’t send long replies either, and no one brought up the confrontation between me and Josie.

  I felt bad about that, but I didn’t regret finally saying what I should have told them long before now. I was sorry that it came out the way it did and that Josie had to bear the brunt of it, but the words needed to be said. My life would be different from now on, and they needed to accept that just like I did.

  Jacob sent a text on Sunday. I owed him an apology, which should have been done in person, but there was no way I could have handled that. I retyped the text three times until I felt confident I’d expressed remorse while also making the finality of our connection clear. There would be no more oddly fateful run-ins. And no more dates.

  I was doing him a favor by letting him off this train wreck before we left the station.

  On Thursday, I’d found a free hour in my afternoon and the thought of sitting quietly with the voices in my head drove me to make an unplanned phone call. My old therapist, Roberta, had miraculously been between patients and was able to talk. After listening to my summation of the last couple of weeks, and the truth about how I’d been struggling even before that, she suggested two things.

  One was to come back to see her, and I agreed that would be a good idea. The other was to visit the one person who underst
ood my loss as much as I did. Maybe even more so. And that was how I got here, in front of the house where Brian grew up.

  This wasn’t a surprise visit. I would never do that to Maggie. She’d been like a second mom to me, and I should have taken the time to see her more often, but running from the memories had meant running from her as well.

  The running stopped today. With sweaty palms and a nervous stomach, I climbed the stairs to the Finnegans’ front door. Not much had changed. Where my parents’ house was a dark-red brick, the Finnegan home was a light-tan color, but the same general shape—a boxy three-story with a rectangular covered porch that spanned the width of the house. This was pretty much the blueprint for houses all over the city.

  For nearly half my life, I would have walked in without knocking, but that wasn’t the case anymore. With one last deep breath for courage, I tapped on the glass storm door three times. A dog immediately started barking and I took two steps back. The Finnegans didn’t own a dog the last time I was here.

  An excited white boxer charged into the foyer and pranced from right to left while barking loud enough to be heard three blocks away. He—or she—didn’t look vicious, but I wasn’t going inside without some assurance of the fact. Mac Finnegan appeared seconds later and offered a familiar smile through the glass.

  The large man who’d always been quick with a smile looked to have aged ten years in the two since I’d seen him. The reddish-brown hair was a little thinner. The green eyes slightly dimmed. The lines of age a little deeper and more obvious.

  “Yes, Penny, I see her,” he said loud enough for the dog to hear him. She quieted immediately but continued to prance as if she was about to get a very big treat. “She’s harmless but we haven’t broken her of the jumping yet,” he said as he opened the door while keeping one hand on her collar. “Come on in.”

  As I stepped inside, Maggie joined us in the foyer. “Mac, take Penelope out back, will you?”

  Someone meeting her for the first time would immediately think that Maggie Finnegan looked young for her age. The dark hair bore no streaks of gray. The skin around her eyes was still fresh and nearly wrinkle free. But I could see the change right away. Maggie’s true glow had always come from the inside. That glow wasn’t there today.