Sam

“Sam, it’s a long flight. Are you really not going to talk to me the entire time?”

Samantha Connors flipped her thick brown hair and gave her father her best icy glare before returning to stare out the window from her comfy first-class seat. There was nothing to see but clouds. She turned up the volume on her ear buds and closed her blue-green eyes trying to force the tears back as she listened to Adele wail unjustly. Adele was always Sam’s go-to songstress when she was upset. Listening to Adele lyrics was like crying on the inside—just how Sam liked it, so no one could see her pain.

But some things were too big even for Adele to remedy. And Ireland was one of those things. It’s not that Sam had a problem with the country. She actually thought Ireland was quite lovely. But she didn’t want to move there. Not now. Not when she could finally see light at the end of her teenaged tunnel.

It was her senior year of high school and her father had destroyed it by making her move with him to Ireland. She’d fought him every step of the way, which wasn’t like her at all. Sam and her father usually coexisted without much friction. But Boston was Sam’s life! And he’d taken that from her—basically giving her a license to behave like the angsty teenaged daughter she’d never been.

Sam had begged her father to let her stay and finish out the school year so she could graduate with her friends, but what little good that did. Here she was, sitting on a six-hour flight to Dublin, with only Adele to keep her company.

Her father scratched at the graying temples of his wavy brown hair and fidgeted with his glasses before tugging gently at Sam’s left ear bud until it came free. “Are you still mad at me, honey?”

She scowled at him. “You think?”

“Sam, listen. I know you think moving to Ireland is the end of the world, but once we get there, you’ll remember how much you used to love it.”

“Dad, I was eight the last time I was in Ireland. I used to love Barbie and karaoke. But I’m not that girl anymore. I’m seventeen. I’ve grown up. When are you going to see that?”

“I’m not blind, Sam. I know you’re not a little girl. But I still want you to be part of this family.”

“Dad! There’s only two of us. I’m pretty much a founding member of this family. That’s not going to change. But I want to make my own decisions, start my own life. You have to let me be an adult.”

“You’re almost an adult,” her father reminded her. “I still get to call you my little girl for ten more months.”

Sam blew out a frustrated breath, rolling her eyes as she shoved her ear buds back in. ‘Almost’ was her father’s favorite word and every time he said it, Sam pictured herself choking him in various ways.

I’m almost done working, Sam—she was wrapping her computer cord around his throat.

I almost made it to your soccer game, Sam—she was unlacing her soccer cleats to tie around his neck.

I almost got you a puppy, Sam—a leash would make a good noose.

I almost bought you a car for your good grades, Sam—stuffing her report card into his mouth would do the trick.

But that was just her father. He’d always been that way. ‘Almost’ really meant ‘never’ when he said it. And he never followed through on his promises. Until he did.

I almost care that you don’t want to move to Ireland, Sam, she thought bitterly. Of course he hadn’t said that, but he might as well have.

And for as many times as Sam fake-strangled her father in her mind, she didn’t really mean it. She loved him, in her own weird-teenaged-daughter kind of way. Her father was all she had. Growing up, he’d been forced to play both father and mother to her, and he’d done a good job.

Sam’s mother died when she was eight—that’s why they’d moved from Ireland to Boston to begin with. Her father never remarried. He never even dated. He pretty much buried himself with work, occasionally lifting his head enough to raise her.

Sam knew she wasn’t being fair. Her father was actually pretty great most of the time, and so was their relationship. They cohabited rather effortlessly. Her father was reasonable and Sam was flexible. She was allowed to date, just not get too serious. She could go out on school nights, as long as he knew where she was. He didn’t police her fashion or friends, so she chose them wisely. He gave her free reign on the Internet. That started when she got her period. Sam thought her father was going to shrivel up and die when she started asking him questions about tampons. “Why don’t you Google that, honey?” had been his response.

And last year, Sam’s father even told her he didn’t have a problem with her drinking after prom—knowing that’s what everyone did—he just made her promise not to get in the car with someone who’d been drinking.

Her father always told her he was happy to treat her like an adult as long as she acted like one. And that worked for Sam. Her best friend, Megan, repeatedly whined about how strict her parents were. “I wish they could just be chill, like your dad.”

But sometimes, Sam thought she wouldn’t mind being parented a bit more. Her father couldn’t spend a lot of time with her because his tech firm kept him busy. But it was hard to be mad when she knew he only worked so hard so he could send her to the best schools and give her everything she wanted—well everything except for a car and a puppy—and he’d probably been right that she didn’t really need those things. Boston had great public transportation and with Sam’s sports schedule and her father’s work, neither of them were really home enough to take care of a puppy.

Sam knew her father did his best. Losing her mother wasn’t easy on him either. He never talked about her. And after a while, neither did Sam. She reasoned that they both were just trying to make things easier on each other. Perhaps that’s why he was so easy-going and she was so mild-mannered. ‘Don’t rock the boat’, was pretty much the motto for their relationship. And it was perfect, until Ireland got thrown in the mix.

Ireland was ruining everything.

Sam tried every possible option to get out of it. She tried reasoning, she tried yelling, she even tried crying hysterically. But nothing worked. She felt like a heat-seeking missile and Ireland was the only thing with a pulse for miles.

But there wasn’t much Sam could do about it now. She was already on the plane. Short of finding a time machine or an independent fortune, Sam wasn’t getting back to Boston until she graduated from high school. But by then, it would be too late. Her friends would have already moved on and forgotten about her. Well, maybe not her best friend, Megan Fields, but everyone else surely would. Especially Sam’s almost boyfriend, hunky lacrosse player, Ryan Kennedy.

Sam didn’t have many regrets in life, but Ryan was one of them. She’d flirted back and forth with him for the past year, but she never really felt a rush to move past that. She liked keeping her options open. It never seemed to bother him either. Ryan seemed happy with their random hookups at parties.

Sam’s mind wandered back to the last conversation she’d had with Ryan.

“So you’re really moving to Ireland?” he’d asked.

“Yep. Are you gonna miss me?”

“Do you want me to miss you?”

“I want you to want to miss me.”

“Well, I’m certainly going to miss this,” he said kissing her with way too much tongue.

Sam had been thinking about giving Ryan even more than kisses to miss, but Megan interrupted them. Sam forgot she’d invited her brazen best friend over for packing and pizza. Sam asked Ryan to stay and join them, but he politely excused himself. She really hadn’t expected him to stay—packing wasn’t something an almost boyfriend did anyway.

“So, are you dating him or not?” Megan asked when they were alone, trying to pull her glossy black hair into a ponytail—it was still too short from the trendy bob she got at the start of summer.

“Almost.”

“You can’t almost date someone, Sam. Either you are or you aren’t.”

Sam rolled her eyes at her best friend. “Well, I’m moving so it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

“Of course it does! Do you want to date him, or not?”

“I don’t know. Sometimes I do. But sometimes it just seems like too much work.”

“Work? I don’t think falling in love is supposed to be work. It’s supposed to be something you can’t help but do,” Megan said dreamily.

Megan was a hopeless romantic and it always drove Sam crazy. Mostly because Sam was more hopeless than romantic. She took a big bite of pizza and frowned at Megan. “How are you such an expert about love all of a sudden?”

“Hey, I’ve had seven boyfriends, I’ll have you know.”

“Book boyfriends don’t count, Meg.” Megan was also a giant book nerd—probably where her hopeless romanticism came from.

“Says you!” Megan shot back indignantly. “But seriously, you need to figure out what you want, Sam. You can’t just go around almost loving people.”

“I don’t do it on purpose. But Ryan is impossible. If I knew he loved me it would be different. I mean, I can’t tell if he actually likes me, or just likes trying to get in my pants.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I feel like I interrupted the whole getting-into-your-pants scenario,” Megan replied sheepishly.

“It was probably for the best. Getting hung up on Ryan right before I move to Ireland doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

“Yeah, you need to keep your options open for all the hott Irish boys!” Megan swooned.

“Why would I do that? I’m coming back to Boston as soon as I graduate.”

“You say that now, but you might end up falling for some gorgeous prince!”

“Meg, I’m moving to Dublin, not Cinderella’s palace.”

“I’m just saying, you never know.”

“Well I do. I’ve been to Ireland before. The boys are exactly the same. The only difference is they’re all named, McSomething or O’Somebody and they call soccer, football.”

“You forgot about their sexy Irish accents.”

“The only accent I wanna hear is a wicked good Boston one,” Sam said, with thick Bostonian diction. “Besides, I’ll be back before you know it.”

Now it was Meg’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Seriously Meg, the first semester always flies by, and who knows, maybe my dad will see the light by then and let me come home. But if not, I’ll be back by summer. Nothing has to change.”

“I sorta hope it does.”

“What? Why?”

“Listen, you know I’m Team Sam for life, but your dad has a point. This could be a great opportunity for you. A year in Ireland may not be your first choice, but if it’s gonna happen, you might as well embrace it. This is our last year to be young and stupid. Soak it up, Sam—all the way. That means no more almost.”

* * *

Sam leaned her cheek against the cool glass of the plane window, trying to see through the clouds. Meg and her father were wrong. Ireland wasn’t going to be some great adventure. How could it be, when everything about the tiny green island reminded her of her mother and what she’d lost?

Maybe Megan was right. It was time for Sam to stop being so ‘almost’ about her life. She knew everything she wanted was in Boston and it was time she went all in to get it.

Devon

Today’s the day, Devon thought when he woke up. The day the girl of my dreams is coming back to Ireland. Looking forward to this day was keeping Devon alive. The past year had been a nightmare for him. Everything he’d thought he could count on started to crumble like a house of cards. It all started with his father’s diagnosis. Inoperable brain tumor. 12 months to live. Those words rattled around in the empty space in Devon’s chest. Nothing had been the same after he heard them. Not school, not his friends, and certainly not his future.

But today everything was going to change. Devon’s second chance at happiness was coming back to him. He still remembered the hope that filled his chest when he heard his childhood crush was coming back to Ireland. Sam Connors. Christ, how he’d loved her. Well, as much as an eight-year-old boy knows how to love. It’d been ages since he’d seen Sam. He’d pretty much moved on with his life thinking he’d never see her again. But he never forgot her. No one forgets their first love.