Don't Let Me Go. J.H. Trumble

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      Something locked into place. “Wait. You mean, you knew about Adam?”

      “Well, yeah.”

      “Why didn’t you tell me?”

      “I guess I thought you knew, and”—she shrugged—“it wasn’t mine to tell anyway.” She flung a small rock into the pool. “I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

      “If it makes you feel any better, that’s what we planned to do tonight. We were just trying to find the right time.”

      “Well, you blew that. I guess when Adam said he wanted to get in your pants, he wasn’t kidding.”

      “I hope not.”

      She shot me a look.

      “Sorry.”

      We were quiet for a few minutes as Juliet came to terms with the changing boundaries in our relationships. I listened to the water splashing into the pool below and let her have whatever time she needed.

      “Nate.”

      I looked up.

      “Have you told anybody?”

      I leaned back on my hands and looked at the black sky, then closed my eyes, and took a deep breath. Finally I shook my head.

      “Why now?”

      “I never had a reason to until now.”

      “He’s a great guy, Nate. The greatest. I wouldn’t trust him to just anyone.”

      “You’d trust him to me?”

      “I already have.”

      “Can I tell you something, Jules? I’m scared to death. I’m scared to death of what’s going to happen when everybody else finds out. I keep thinking maybe they don’t have to. You know, and maybe you knowing ... maybe that’s enough.”

      “I can’t tell you what to do, Nate. But I have to say that all those people you’re worrying about, they’re not worth you losing yourself. You can’t live your life walking on eggshells so you won’t offend other peoples’ sensibilities, or in this case, insensibilities. Don’t pretend your happiness isn’t important. It is. And at the end of the day, that’s all you got.”

      I dropped my head back and stared into the moonlit sky. “I don’t know. It could all explode in my face. It’s not like I can change my mind later. Once it’s done, it’s done.”

      “It’s done already, Nate.” She laid her hand on mine and stroked my fingers. “Give yourselves permission to live and love on your own terms. There are a lot of people out there who will support you. Me, for instance.” She smiled, a little sadly maybe, but she did smile. “You can count on that.”

      We locked eyes. “You don’t have to figure this all out tonight,” she added. “Take baby steps. It’ll all work out.”

      “Thank you,” I said.

      “For what?”

      I thought for a moment before I answered. “For making it okay.”

      She smiled again. “Ain’t nothin’ but a thang.”

      “A thang?” I grinned back for a moment and then grew serious again. “I love you, Jules.” And I knew at that moment that I meant it.

      “What’s not to love,” she teased, giving me a little push. I reached over and pulled her to me. This time the kiss was real—chaste, but truly genuine.

      Adam opened the door. “Is it safe to come out?”

      Juliet flung a rock at him.

      He closed the door behind him. “Good. I thought you might still be mad.”

      He climbed up and sat down behind us and draped his arms around our shoulders.

      “I still hate you,” Juliet said.

      “No, you don’t.” He kissed her cheek and then he kissed mine.

      Chapter 7

      My ringtone startled me awake. Groggy and confused, I fished my phone out of my pocket and pressed the answer key, my eyes still closed, sleep tugging me back toward sweet oblivion.

      “Hello,” I croaked.

      “Nate?” A laugh. “Did I wake you?”

      Immediately I was up. “You’re there!” I sent up a quick prayer of gratitude.

      “I just stepped off the plane. I’m headed down the escalator right now to baggage claim. Were you asleep?”

      I looked around me, then ran my fingers through my hair. “Yeah, I fell asleep on Juliet’s bed.”

      “Juliet’s bed, huh.” I could hear the smile in his voice. “I’m not gone four hours and you’re already in bed ... with a girl?”

      “Yeah, I’m thinking about expanding my options while you’re gone, maybe procreating a little.”

      “Uh-huh.”

      “You know I don’t roll that way. Mr. Ratliff sent me home early. I just hung around here to wallow in my misery.”

      He got quiet on the other end.

      “I’m okay,” I assured him, then changed the subject. “Is Justin there to pick you up?”

      He hesitated, obviously deciding whether or not to pursue that okay bit. In the end, he let it go. “He said he’d meet me at passenger pickup after I get my bags. I’ll call and let him know I’m in in just a minute. I wanted to call you first.”

      After some small talk about the flight (long, uneventful, boring, lonely) and the airport (crowded and lonely), he promised to Skype when he got to the apartment. I wanted to keep him on the line, maybe until forever, but he’d forgotten to charge his phone the night before (“Busy, remember?”) and the battery was running low. Reluctantly, I let him go. I closed my eyes and tried to hold on to the sound of his voice in my head, letting it soothe me back to sleep like a lullaby.

      I woke almost three hours later and panicked for a moment, thinking I might have missed Adam’s Skype. But he’d said they were going to the theater first, then probably dinner. It would be early evening before he could get to his computer.

      I found Juliet in the kitchen with her mom, drying lettuce in a salad spinner. Mr. Ratliff was home too. He was draining a metal basket of fried shrimp over a pot still popping with hot oil. It was only about four thirty, so I figured he must have left Gary to lock up.

      Mrs. Ratliff gave me a one-arm hug when I came in. “Juliet told me you were having a nap in her room. Better?”

      Not really, but I nodded anyway.

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