Page 48 of A Heart On A Sleeve

I point my chopsticks at him and chew my own mouthful of raw fish thoughtfully. “I know that, but she said if I don’t embrace it, then I’ll never be able to open up. I’ll be just like her, Howard. An old witchy woman who dies alone.”

“Ollie, come on. You know that’s not true.

You are going to be whoever you decide to be, magic be damned.

Just like with your mom. She wanted you to be one thing, but here you are, working and living your life.

” He is so matter-of-fact about it, confident that this decision is mine.

But it doesn’t feel like it is at all. It feels like the moment I turned around and uttered those very first words to Irina, everything changed for good.

“I saw something at the house.” Howie’s eyebrows shoot up as he nods for me to continue. “On the table, under their names . . . it said never again will we wear our hearts on our sleeves.”

“What does that mean? What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, what if this is a trick? What if she purposefully did this to mess with me, to hurt me.”

“Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know, but Sam looks at my arm all the time to gauge my reaction to things. Maybe she was trying to show me that real love isn’t real at all. That no matter how good the guy is, he’ll always take the easy road.”

“I understand why you’d say that, I do.” Howie runs a hand down his face. “But if you really believe that about Sam then you couldn’t be more wrong. He’s a good guy, Ollie.”

I sip my drink, thinking about what he said. “Howie, I know that. He’s the kindest person I’ve ever met. It’s just, well, I’m torn because how will I ever know it’s real if I keep the curse? But then again, if I get rid of it, I might lose him altogether.”

“I can’t answer that. All I know is that you will never regret betting on yourself, believing that you can be open and find love, that what you have with Sam is real.

If you keep the tattoo, well, you probably will regret that.

The unknowns would eat at you, for sure.

But the good news is, you don’t have to decide today. ”

After we finished lunch, Howie and I didn’t talk about it again.

There wasn’t much else to say. He thinks I can choose, and I think I’m essentially screwed for life.

I thought a lot about it on the ride home, and I do think I’m in love with Sam.

But I also worry that, in this case, love isn’t enough.

If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that love, no matter what we read or are told, is conditional.

I think that Sam loves me because it’s easy to do so with a constant guidebook at his disposal.

Without it, I would just be like every other female, frustrating him with my inability to tell him what I need.

And that’s just the kicker. That’s what I was taught from a young age: Sit down.

Be quiet. Know your place. Don’t ruffle feathers.

Don’t gossip too much, but don’t be a stick-in-the-mud.

Be adventurous, but don’t try to attempt things that are a man’s responsibility.

If we are too emotional, then we are moody.

If we aren’t emotional enough, we are heartless bitches.

“Deep in thought? Trying to find a way to get Daddy’s money back?” Bridget interrupts my turmoil, whispering in my ear as she places both hands on my shoulders from behind.

“Hilarious, but no. Just thinking.” I turn, smiling at her. I know she was joking.

“Too much thinking will give you wrinkles. Didn’t you know that?” Bridget slides onto the stool next to me at Mabel’s kitchen island.

“Now you sound like my mother,” I quip, sending us both into a fit of giggles.

“I love that sound,” Mabel singsongs from her place at the stove, stirring a pot of soup.

“What sound?” Sam asks, coming in from helping his dad chop wood, wiping his face on the bottom of his T-shirt and making my mouth water at the peek of his abdomen.

“The sound of my girls laughing in the kitchen. It makes my heart feel so full.” Mabel turns, smiling at Bridget and me.

“This one is my girl, don’t go claiming her.” Sam wraps his arm around my stomach and drops a kiss to my forehead.

“That could be true, big brother, if she didn’t like us more than she likes you,” Bridget says, laughing at her own joke.

“I’m wounded. Olive, can you help me with something real quick? Upstairs,” Sam whispers the last part, and Mabel winks at us both. This woman is actually endorsing me making out with her son under her roof. I think I love her and am terrified of her at the same time.

I pop up from my stool and follow Sam into the hallway and up the stairs as Bridget yells from the kitchen, “You guys are gross!” Sam and I both chuckle but dip into his old bedroom.

“This is cute.” I take in his childhood room.

It appears like not a thing has changed from when he left high school.

Sports Illustrated swimsuit-edition pages still plaster the ceiling as if he had to fall asleep to them each night, and a prom picture of him in a suit and a girl in a silver dress is perched on his dresser.

“I, uh, yeah, I should probably help my mom clear this stuff out. I sorta forgot all this was in here when I felt the urge to kiss you.”

“It’s okay. It’s not the type of bedroom I had growing up, but I could learn a lot about you in here,” I reply, running a finger along the edge of his bed.

“Can the thing you learn be that you love to make out with me against the door?” he asks, a devilish grin on his lips.

I grab his hand and pull him to the door, sandwiching myself between it and him before snaking my arm around his neck and pulling his mouth to mine.

His breath is minty, and his skin has a slight musk from working up a sweat.

It’s intoxicating to the point I don’t notice myself being lifted.

I wrap my arms around him, and he grinds into me.

After exploring each other thoroughly, we break apart, heaving for air.

“Maybe this wasn’t a good idea. Now I want you and I can’t have you,” Sam says, running a hand over my hair to smooth it from our make-out session.

“I think it was a great idea. Keeps you wanting more.” I wink at him and drop my legs, slinking out of our position.

“Is that so?” he asks, gripping the bottom of his T-shirt and pulling it up over his head so I can very clearly see his ripped torso.

My mouth waters, and a squeak sneaks past my lips.

Traitorous body, I chastise myself, turned on by him even though my heart is constantly pleading with me to pull back.

“Okay, so maybe the feeling is mutual.” I cross my arms and pout my bottom lip out.

“It’s okay, we have plenty of time. The rest of our lives maybe.” Sam leans in and sucks my bottom lip into his mouth before biting it slightly. My body reacts in a visceral way while my heart races at the statement.

“Alright. I’m, uh, I’m going to go downstairs before anyone gets too suspicious.

I’ll leave you to get changed, since you clearly need a minute.

” I grab his hardened cock through his jeans and squeeze before turning to leave.

Sam smacks my ass as I make my way out the door, and I laugh the whole way downstairs.

As I take the final step and round the corner to head back into the kitchen, Max stops me with a look and a pointed finger, telling me to come with him. I follow him into the dimly lit dining room.

“What?” I whisper.

“Are you serious about my brother?” Max asks, not wasting any time before diving right in.

“I, uh, yes. I’m serious about getting to know him better.” Max looks at me with concern and disappointment.

“My brother really cares about you. I know this is fun and all”—Max sweeps his arm around to gesture at his home, his family, I assume—“but don’t drag him along if you aren’t all in. I’m pretty sure it would kill him if you broke his heart.”

“Max, I’m not planning to hurt him. I care about him a lot too,” I sputter quietly.

“Okay, but just, please. I want to believe you, but I’ve never seen him like this before, and he’s kind of the glue that keeps us all together.

I don’t know what any of us would do if he falls apart.

” My heart warms at the sentiment. Sam is the big brother, the protector.

Max wants to make sure Sam is safe with me emotionally, and it’s really sweet.

The only problem is, I can’t and won’t make any promises.

I’ve made it clear to Sam that I need time to figure things out.

I don’t need to share that with Max, but I feel guilty for not being able to reassure him completely.

“What are you guys doing in here in the dark?” Nora asks, sneaking into the dining room with us.

“Nothing, I was just telling Olive not to break Sam’s heart,” Max explains.

“That’s usually the talk you’d give to my boyfriend. I’m pretty sure Sam can handle himself. Come on, Olive,” Nora scolds Max and then grabs my hand, dragging me into the hallway and then to the kitchen.

Sam is waiting, sitting on a stool and eyeing me suspiciously.

Nora notices and approaches him while depositing me at the stool next to him.

“Sorry, I just stole her for some girl talk real quick.” Sam doesn’t look convinced but takes my hand and presses a kiss to my cheek as I scooch onto the stool.

“You, okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he whispers in my ear.

“Yes, I’m great. Someone got me hot and bothered upstairs. Just needed a minute,” I lie, not wanting to tell him about his brother’s speech.

Sam chuckles softly and kisses my neck discreetly before Mabel pulls a loaf of bread from the oven and shoos us to the dining table.