by Debra Doxer
“How did it happen?”
“I got distracted.” When I tried to lower my hand, Jonah wrapped his long fingers around my wrist and held on.
“By what?”
I couldn’t help glaring. Was he serious?
He just looked at me, waiting, like we hadn’t all seen Parker practically give him a lap dance out there.
“What was that?” I blurted.
“What was what?”
“Are you kidding me? Parker was trying to feed her boobs to you for lunch, and you didn’t seem to hate it.”
His brow creased. “Is that what distracted you?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, it was a little distracting. What are you doing? I thought you couldn’t stand her.”
Jonah smiled. “Are you jealous, Candy?”
I had just opened my mouth to deny it when his satisfied smile caused a light bulb to go off in my head. “Were you using her to make me jealous?”
His smug expression faded. “Maybe I was trying to get your attention. But I didn’t mean for you to hurt your hand.”
“All that,” I said, waving my arm in the direction of the alleys, “was to get my attention?”
“Just because you stopped caring about me doesn’t mean I stopped caring about you. I know it was juvenile, but I’m losing you and I don’t know what to do about it.”
My pulse quickened at his words, even though they made my heart feel heavy. When Jonah said he cared about me the first time, it made my breath catch. Hearing him say it now, my reaction wasn’t any different. It gave me butterflies and made my insides turn molten.
“I didn’t stop caring about you. I stopped trusting you.” I licked my lips that suddenly felt dry. “We should get back.”
The harsh set of his jaw told me he didn’t like what I’d said. His eyes stayed on mine as he moved closer, crowding me, making me step back until the wall stopped me.
“If you still care, we can get that trust back.”
Emotion was driving him. I could sense it simmering beneath his skin.
“I do care. But I can’t forget.”
“Maybe I can make you forget.”
He surprised me by pressing his body into mine, and I could feel his warm breath on my face. Threading his fingers into my hair, he cradled the side of my head in his palm. It felt so good that I leaned into his touch, and my eyes fluttered closed.
“Look at me, Candy,” he whispered.
When my gaze collided with his, I saw a storm brewing there. The next moment his lips were on mine.
I sucked in a harsh breath, instinctively pressing my hands against his chest. I didn’t let myself kiss him back, even though I wanted to. It wasn’t until his hands gently cupped my cheeks, urging me to move with him, that I finally gave in, unable to help myself.
Jonah groaned, pressing even harder into me. His lips were soft but insistent, and when his tongue slipped into my mouth, I brushed mine against it. The kiss deepened, and my head spun. I’d nearly forgotten how strongly I responded to Jonah, wanting to get closer no matter how close we were, like our bodies needed each other.
It would have been so easy to get lost in his kiss and let everything else disappear, but my thoughts wouldn’t let me. Despite how perfect this felt, it wasn’t perfect. All it would do was hurt me more, because despite what we felt for each other, one kiss changed nothing.
“Candy, please,” he murmured when I went still.
“I can’t,” I said breathlessly.
“Tell me why.”
“You know why.”
Jonah exhaled heavily and lowered his forehead to mine. We stood there, each of us breathless, the passion of our kiss lingering between us. He shook his head from side to side before he pushed off the wall and away from me.
Immediately I felt cold, not just by the loss of his heat, but also by the chilly look in his eyes. “I don’t like regrets,” he said. “I never wanted you to be one.”
Then he walked away, leaving me standing there with his words reverberating in my head. What did he regret? Lying to me? Being with me at all? Meeting me in the first place? Whatever his meaning, his words hurt, just like he’d meant them to.
I took a moment to gather myself and when I got back to our alley, Parker and Ashley were putting on their coats.
“Are you okay?” Heather asked, and I nodded absently, hoping to avoid more questions.
“By the way, Parker nearly ended up on the floor when you walked off and Jonah went after you. He lifted her off him like a sack of potatoes.”
She thought I’d laugh with her, but I couldn’t as I scanned the room for Jonah, still shaky and unsettled. I didn’t see him anywhere.
Heather’s smile turned curious, but she didn’t pry as we watched Parker and Ashley gathering their things. “So now I guess they’re leaving?”
“I don’t think they were here for the bowling,” I said.
Before they walked off, Parker looked right at me. I braced myself for her venom, but it never came. Instead, her face was flushed, as if she was embarrassed. While Ashley gave us all a halfhearted good-bye, Parker said nothing as she headed for the door.
“Good riddance,” Heather murmured.
I was silently agreeing when Ethan asked, “Who wants pizza?”
Heather looked at me, understanding I was done for the night. “I think we’re gonna hit the road,” she said.
“Me too,” Lea chimed in. “I have other plans.”
“What plans?” Ethan asked.
She reached for her coat. “I have a date.”
Ethan’s brows knitted. “With who?”
“None of your business.” She gave me a quick hug before saying good-bye and leaving.
“Who’s she dating?” Ethan asked once Lea was gone.
I thought his disgruntled expression was a good development. “The guy she went to homecoming with.”
He scowled. After grabbing his coat, he did a weird one-armed guy hug with Jonah, who had just come back. Then Ethan left too, forgetting about the pizza.
“Everyone’s gone?” Jonah glanced around at the deserted lanes and the empty cups and wrappers that littered the floor.
At some point Malcolm and Marta had left too. I didn’t even see them go.
Heather eyed him. “Your fan club had no reason to stay.”
He ignored her. “Let’s get some takeout and go back to the house,” he said, looking only at Heather.
She agreed, telling him any kind of food was fine with her, oblivious to the new tension between Jonah and me.
“Sure, anything,” I chimed in, but I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to go home.
Since we’d left it to him, Jonah decided to stop at the all-night deli in Claymore for subs. As he drove, I could feel him glancing at me in the backseat through the rearview mirror. I pretended not to notice as flashes of our kiss played in my head, making me feel restless and flushed, sending my emotions into a tailspin.
When he pulled into my driveway, I glanced at the mirror again, and he lifted his eyes at the same time. For a moment, we just stared at each other. My heart picked up speed, and I ached deep inside.
I must have been denying how I felt, because after what Jonah had done, I should hate him. But I didn’t hate him. I couldn’t. I wanted him still, and he knew that. His plan to make me jealous worked, and it took all my willpower and self-respect not to fall into his arms at the bowling alley.
I couldn’t help thinking that other than my parents, no one had ever cared about me the way Jonah seemed to, and throwing that away would be something I’d regret. But I understood myself well enough to know I might do it anyway.
When he lied to me, it fractured something inside me. The broken pieces were sharp, and they cut each time he got close.
***
I hit Send on my text.
Me: Remember Jonah’s friend, Heather? She thinks you’re funny and cute. Wants you to have her number. Should I give it to her?
It took about
three seconds for Theo to reply.
Theo: What?!? Are you messing with me?
Me: No.
Theo: You are, aren’t you? I’ll text her and look like an idiot.
Me: Not messing with you.
Theo: Promise?
Me: I promise.
Theo: Does she know?
I figured he was asking if she knew about his decision to stop treatment.
Me: Yeah, she knows.
There was a long pause before he responded. I could almost hear how hard he was thinking.
Theo: Fine. But what do I say to her? How do I open? If she thinks I’m funny, I’d better be freaking funny. Not sure it’s worth all this pressure.
Me: Oh my God.
Theo: Kidding. Thanks. I liked her too.
Me: Don’t thank me. It was her idea. Whatever you do, don’t open with one of your cheesy pickup lines.
Theo: Is your daddy a drug dealer? Because you’re so dope.
Me: Right. Don’t say that. In fact, never say it again.
Theo signed off and I put down the phone, hoping I hadn’t made a mistake. I was tempted not to tell him, but Heather seemed like she’d be good for him, and I certainly hadn’t been much of a friend to him lately.
After killing as much time in my bedroom as I reasonably could, I walked into the kitchen and smelled the remnants of dinner in the air, the tangy scent of the Italian subs we’d eaten. It was early, just after ten when Heather left. That was also when I disappeared into my room to text Theo, but I couldn’t hide in there all night.
Jonah was staying over again. He didn’t say anything about it and neither did I, but it became obvious when he didn’t leave after dinner. It made me wonder if he knew something about his father that I didn’t. I figured when his father said I had the weekend to tell Jonah, I would be safe for at least that long.
Needing to stay busy, I finished cleaning up in the kitchen while Jonah was out in the living room, rummaging through his bag. Eventually, when it was clear neither of our tasks could really be taking so long, Jonah wandered into the kitchen dressed in sweats and a T-shirt he’d changed into.
Pulling open the refrigerator, he stood looking inside for a moment before closing it again. “You’ve got no food in the house. I thought you were going to order some.”
I said nothing because I didn’t hear a question in there.
“You’re not cooking for yourself?”
That was a question, and I supposed I couldn’t ignore it. “No.” After wiping down the table for the fifth or sixth time, I tossed the sponge into the sink.
“Why not?”
Sighing, I faced him. “I don’t know. I just haven’t felt like it.”
“Maybe if you tried, you’d feel—”
“Better?” I finished for him. “Please don’t keep trying to make me feel better. There’s only one thing that will do that.”
His jaw flexed and frustration flickered in his eyes.
The kiss we’d shared had thrown me off-balance. The good place we’d reached, the unspoken truce, had turned back into tension. He wanted me to trust him and I couldn’t, no matter how nice he was or how much he thought he was helping me.
“I had this crazy idea about you,” I said. It was a thought at the back of my mind—the one way he could earn my trust back if he really wanted to.
His brows arched curiously.
“I thought you might offer to run away with me to keep me safe from your father.”
His face fell. “We can’t run. He’ll find us.”
“And you don’t want to run.”
“Guilty people run.” Jonah took a step toward me. “I don’t understand why you won’t tell me what the Hoyts said to you, especially if it could help your father. Is it loyalty to them that’s stopping you?”
I swallowed hard, knowing he would get to this question eventually, and also knowing I probably led him here because I wanted to tell him. Just like with my aunt, I wanted Jonah to know how wrong he was about my father.
“It’s loyalty to everyone who helped my mother,” I said, unable to resist hinting at the truth.
His brows knit together. “Your mother? What does your mother have to do with anything?”
I gripped the counter behind me and looked away because I couldn’t say any more. I shouldn’t have even told him that.
“Candy, did the Hoyts tell you anything? Yes or no?”
Shifting my gaze to him, I nodded. “But it wasn’t the information you wanted. It was personal, having to do with my family.”
Jonah stared at me like he was trying to figure something out, maybe whether he should believe me or not. As he raked his fingers through his hair, I gnawed on the inside of my cheek, wondering what he was thinking. Probably that his father was going to be very unhappy.
Eventually he released a ragged breath, and the conflict he felt was written on his face. “So you learned something, but it’s not useful to me?”
I nodded again, even though I wasn’t sure if it would be useful to him or not. What I did know was that I hadn’t found the information he wanted, and it was unlikely I ever would.
“Okay.” He nodded resolutely as if he’d made the decision to believe me. “Good.”
Good?
He stared at me for another beat before he turned with a look of determination on his face. As I watched, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, tapping on it as he walked away.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I followed him into the living room.
“Telling my father. This means you’re done, Candy. You’re out of it now.”
Out of it. He sounded relieved, and I waited until he stopped and looked up to ask him a question. “So that’s it? He’ll believe me and leave me alone now?” It couldn’t be that simple.
Jonah pushed his phone back into his pocket. “I’ll make sure he does.”
“But now he won’t help my father because I couldn’t give him what he wanted.”
He frowned. “No. Probably not.”
I knew he would say that, but hearing my last hope disappear, no matter how small, was harder than I thought. Pressure built behind my eyes, and I didn’t want to cry in front of Jonah so I turned to walk back to my bedroom.
“Candy, wait.”
I stopped reluctantly and faced him.
“I know you’re dealing with something and you don’t want to tell me what it is. But you can talk to me. I still want to help you, even if it has nothing to do with your father or the case.”
His soft, kind tone brought the words to the tip of my tongue, but that was where they remained. “I really wish I could talk to you. If you understood more, I don’t think you’d be so hard on me or my father.”
His lips parted, and I could tell he didn’t like hearing that I thought he was hard on me or that he didn’t understand, but he turned his attention back to his phone when it dinged with a message. He glanced at it and tapped on the screen before putting it away again. “My father wants to see me. Will you be okay if I leave?”
My skin prickled. “He wants to see you about me?”
Jonah nodded. “It will be okay. I’ll be with him, so I know he won’t be here.”
His words were little comfort. “If he believes me, will he really leave me alone?”
“If you have nothing for him, I think he’ll move on to other leads.”
Jonah smiled reassuringly at my skepticism. “I have to go, Candy.”
As he gathered his things, it wasn’t only my fear of being alone that pressed in on me, it was the fact that I was going to miss Jonah tonight.
“Try to get some sleep,” he said, lightly brushing his fingertips over my cheek, making the skin there come alive. His expression was different, lighter with relief, and all because he believed he could get me off the hook now. Had my involvement been weighing on him so heavily?
After he left, it took a full minute before what just happened sank in and I could make myself move away from
the door. I’d told him the truth, or rather a half truth, and now Jonah was optimistic. He believed his father would be done with me.
As I settled into bed and closed my eyes, I wished I could believe it too.
I pull open my locker and exchange my history book for calculus, and stuff it into my messenger bag. Behind me, the hall buzzes with activity as students move between classes, talking, laughing, and calling to each other. I’m not a part of the moving mass of energy today; I feel different, separate, lost in my own fuzzy thoughts.
The noise dwindles. I close my locker and walk quickly in the direction of class, not wanting to be late. Knowing the late bell will ring soon, I speed up my pace, holding my bag so the heavy books won’t knock against my hip bone.
After I turn the corner that will take me to calculus, I stop abruptly, my heels squeaking on the tile floor. The hallway is deserted except for a familiar figure standing at the end of it. His dark wavy hair is artfully mussed, pushed back off his forehead in a way that looks careless but perfect. His lips are slightly parted, and his hazel eyes focus on me.
When I stop moving, Jonah walks toward me, slowly at first but then faster, his long legs eating up the distance.
“Candy,” he says in a low, gravelly voice that resonates through me, touching each part of me, wrapping itself around my skin.
Entranced, I’m rooted to the spot, my pulse thrumming faster the closer he gets. Once he’s in front of me, so close I can smell his clean scent, he stops. Hesitantly, he reaches out a hand and pushes a lock of hair behind my ear.
“I’m sorry,” he says softly. “I’m so sorry for everything.” His warm hands cradle my cheeks as his eyes seek a connection with mine. “Can you ever trust me again?”
My heart thunders, and my rising anger tightens like a band around my chest. “I want to, but I can’t,” I whisper.
I expect him to lash out, but instead a gentle smile curves his lips. “What if I could make it right?”