Heart Bones - Colleen Hoover Page 0,55

my father.

“Why did that guy ask him when he got out?” Sara says. “Got out of where? Jail? Prison?”

Marcos shrugs again. “Could have been referring to rehab.”

“He was in rehab?” Sara asks.

“I have no idea, I’ve known the guy as long as you have,” he says.

Samson reappears at our table moments later, sans friend. I stand up and he slides back into the booth. He says nothing. Offers no explanation. That doesn’t matter because Sara won’t let this slide. I can tell by the way she’s staring at him.

“Why did that guy call you Shawn?”

Samson stares at her a moment, then releases a quiet laugh. “What?”

She waves her hand toward the direction the guy went. “He called you Shawn! And then he asked you when you got out. Where have you been? Jail?”

For some reason, Samson looks at me. I say nothing because I’m waiting for the same answers Sara is waiting for.

He looks back at Sara and says, “That’s my name. Shawn Samson.” He waves a hand at Marcos. “He called me Samson when we met, and it just stuck with you guys. Everyone else calls me Shawn.”

Marcos brings his straw to his mouth. “Sounds vaguely familiar now that I think about it.”

Shawn? His name is Shawn?

I’m so used to calling him Samson, I’m not sure I can call him Shawn.

“Okay,” Sara says. “But where’d you get out of? Jail? Were you in jail?”

Samson sighs and I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it.

“Leave him alone,” Marcos says, also recognizing Samson’s discomfort.

Sara waves a defensive hand toward me. “I’m trying to set my stepsister up with him, I think we deserve to know if he’s some kind of criminal.”

“It’s fine,” Samson says. “He was talking about getting out of the city. We went to boarding school together and he knew how much I hated New York.”

I can see the slow roll of his throat after he says that, as if he’s swallowing a lie. What are the chances he’d run into a guy from New York on a peninsula in Texas?

Very slim, but is it really Sara’s business? Is it mine? None of us owe each other our past.

I don’t know why I feel protective of him right now, but I know he hates talking about himself. Maybe that’s something Sara doesn’t know about him.

I’ll get the truth out of him later. But right now, I just want the awkwardness to disappear, so I say, “I’ve never been to New York. Texas is only the third state I’ve ever been to.”

“Seriously?” Sara says.

I nod. “Yep. Only ever left Kentucky when I’d fly to Washington to see my father. I had no idea Texas was this hot. I’m not sure I like it.”

Marcos laughs.

The waiter shows up with the appetizers Sara ordered. He takes my glass to get me a refill and Samson reaches for a piece of calamari, popping it into his mouth. “You ever tasted calamari, Beyah?”

I take a piece from him. “Nope.”

Marcos rolls his head. “It’s like you were raised on a different planet.”

Sara doesn’t wait for me to start eating this time. She makes herself a plate of appetizers and begins eating. This small moment may not seem like a big deal to anyone at the table, but I’m relieved to know Sara isn’t putting as much pressure on herself as she was the night I showed up.

Sara starts asking me questions about what else I’ve never tried, and the conversation moves from being only about Samson to being unrelated to Samson.

After a few minutes, Samson reaches under the table and grabs my hand. He gives it a squeeze before releasing it. When I look at him, he’s saying a silent thank you.

I barely know the guy, but I can somehow communicate better with him by not using words than I’ve ever been able to communicate verbally with anyone else.

He gives me one look and it’s proof that I don’t need to know more. Not right now, anyway.

I’ll peel his layers back on his time.

SIXTEEN

There weren’t two seats next to each other when we made it to our nightly bonfire, so Samson is sitting across from me.

Sadly, Beau is in the one next to me.

I’ve noticed Samson eyeing Beau every time he speaks to me. I’m trying to make it very clear that I’m not interested, but Beau isn’t taking the hint. Guys like him never do. They’re used to getting what they want, so they can’t recognize when what they want doesn’t want