At the Heart of It

by Tawna Fenske

  Kate laughed, and Jonah took a step closer. He didn’t touch her, of course, but something in him ached to have her nearer. “Thanks for everything you did tonight,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “I did my job.”

  “No, you didn’t,” he said. “You went above and beyond your job. You promised Jossy you wouldn’t play up her disability without her blessing, even though we both know damn well audiences eat that shit up. Even though she probably signed the same crazy-ass contract the rest of us did that says you’re free to run with whatever story line you choose.”

  Kate bit her lip. “We aren’t heartless, Jonah. The show is about playing on human emotion, sure. But not at the expense of the humans involved.”

  “That’s good to know.” Jonah stretched, feeling tired all of a sudden. And hungry. Still really, really hungry.

  “Could I interest you in dinner?” he asked.

  She seemed to hesitate. “You mean that restaurant you mentioned? Cactus?”

  “Sure, or wherever you want to go.”

  Kate glanced down at her shoes. His shoes. “Under the circumstances, I should probably—”

  “How about my place?”

  Shit. He hadn’t meant to blurt that out. But Kate looked up at him with something that seemed like relief. “You are less than a mile away.”

  Jonah’s heart did a funny little hiccup in the center of his chest. “True.”

  “Okay, I can grab takeout,” she said. “I saw a drive-through Thai place down the street.”

  Jonah grinned. “Why don’t you just be honest here, Kate.”

  Her eyes widened like he’d just stepped on her foot. “What?”

  “You just want to see my cat.” He smiled and watched her face, wondering what the hell had prompted such a strong reaction. “It’s understandable.”

  Kate gave an uneasy laugh and clamped the lid down on the crate. “You caught me,” she said. “So do you want to meet at your place in fifteen minutes?”

  “Sounds good. You pick up the Thai food, and I’ll move all the socks and underwear out of the living room.”

  “Your house is neat as a pin,” she said. “I stopped by unannounced before, remember.”

  “Oh, I remember.” He remembered a lot more than that. “I’ll see you in fifteen minutes.”

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kate rang Jonah’s doorbell with her elbow. She had a bag of takeout Thai in one hand, a six-pack of IPA in the other, and her heart in her throat.

  “Hey there!” Jonah threw open the door and grinned at her, then stepped aside to usher her in. “Looks like you found a way to change clothes.”

  “Yeah. There was a Victoria’s Secret right by the Thai place, so I ran in and grabbed sweatpants and flip-flops.”

  “I like it,” he said, and Kate’s cheeks grew warm. Maybe she shouldn’t have mentioned Victoria’s Secret. And maybe she shouldn’t have bought the cute bra-and-panty set she’d grabbed on impulse, reassuring herself it was only because her black undies might show beneath the new white sweatpants. None of it had anything to do with Jonah.

  “Denial is a form of self-abuse,” Viv chanted in her head. “You’re lying to yourself instead of someone else.”

  Kate gritted her teeth and gripped her purchases a little tighter.

  “Let me take that.” Jonah grabbed the six-pack from her hand and started toward the living room.

  “I notice you grabbed the beer first,” Kate said as she followed behind him.

  “That looked the heaviest,” he said. “Besides, I wanted to see what you got.”

  Kate watched him head toward the couch and felt relieved. Something about that seemed more casual than sitting at the dining room table with placemats and straight-backed chairs. It had nothing to do with wanting to cuddle up close to him on a soft surface.

  She almost believed that as she began unpacking the food on Jonah’s coffee table, piling compostable containers of coconut rice and lemony tom kha gai soup in neat little rows beside his remote control.

  “Nice choice on the IPA,” Jonah said. “Crux makes some of the best beer in Oregon. Where did you find Gimme Mo?”

  “There was a little grocery mart next to the Thai place,” she said. “At first I wasn’t sure about buying beer in cans instead of bottles.”

  “No, this is great.” Jonah held up one of the purple cans and studied the label. “Canned beer has been making a comeback. Aluminum preserves the freshness of the beer better than glass does. Something about light and the way the cans are sealed.”

  “Plus I can crush it on my forehead when I’m done.”

  Jonah laughed. “I would pay a lot of money to see that.”

  Kate took the pile of paper plates and napkins he handed her and set them up on the coffee table while Jonah arranged plastic forks and a can of beer for each of them.

  “Want a glass?” he asked.

  “Nah, I’m good.” She popped the top on hers, and something about the click and hiss gave her comfort. It made this whole thing seem more like a platonic meeting between two colleagues than a clandestine rendezvous between two people who’d slept together and might wish urgently to do it again.

  Maybe that was just her.

  Kate glanced to her right and spotted Marilyn looking at her with intense skepticism.

  Kate could see her point.

  She tore her eyes off the cat and took a sip of beer. “It’s really good,” she said. “Different from the Boneyard one the other night.”

  The second the words left her lips, she wished she could take them back. The last thing she should do was remind Jonah of their visit to the swingers club. Of what happened after that.

  But Jonah didn’t seem to notice. “You have a sharp palate,” he said. “The Crux beer has more of a mosaic hop flavor to it. At least I assume that’s where the name comes from.”

  He held up the can to study it again, which gave Kate the chance to study him. He was still wearing the green shirt from earlier, though he’d undone several buttons in front. He wore a white undershirt beneath it, but she could make out the light dusting of chest hair at the neck of it. She remembered what that felt like pressed against her bare breasts, soft and springy and—

  “Okay, Kate.” Jonah set his beer down on the coffee table. “What did you want to talk about?”

  Kate licked her lips and rested her beer can on one knee. “What makes you think I wanted to talk about something?”

  Jonah studied her for a moment, and Kate tried not to squirm. There were definite downsides to spending time with a guy trained by the military to ferret out spy secrets. It felt like he could read her mind.

  He said nothing, which Kate knew damn well was meant to get her talking. To prompt her to volunteer more information.

  She shrugged and took another sip of beer. “I was hungry for dinner, and your place was close,” she said. “And being here instead of a restaurant keeps us from being spotted by crew members or Amy or—”

  “We’re coworkers, Kate. Is it really that suspicious we’d have dinner together?”

  “I don’t know.” She fiddled with the tab on top of her beer can. “I’m leery about what people read into things. What shows on my face. I may have studied acting, but I’m actually not a very good liar.”

  “That’s a plus.” He grabbed two coasters and set one on the table in front of each of them, giving Kate the chance to take the beer can off her knee. “I’m glad you suggested this,” he added. “It’s nice to be able to let my guard down a little. Not to have to keep up some sort of front for Amy or the crew or—anyone else.”

  There was something in that pause, a name they were both avoiding. Kate could see it hanging in the space between them, Viv’s name in big block letters. It was as noticeable as Viv’s voice echoing in her head all the time.

  “I love him. Again. Still, I mean—I don’t think I ever stopped.”

  She shook her head to clear the voice and reached for one of the co
ntainers of food. Viv was in a meeting tonight, so at least there was no chance of her dropping by with the hope of wooing Jonah. Not that she’d do that here. Knowing Viv, she’d want to save all the best footage for when the cameras were on them.

  Kate kept her eyes down, intent on the task of opening boxes and reading lids and trying to recall what she’d chosen. Beside her, Jonah began opening lids to reveal a fragrant array of food.

  As the silence stretched out, they took turns doling out spicy curry and coconut rice. Kate wondered what he was thinking. If this felt as awkward to him as it did to her. If he was as aware as she was of the warm body just a few inches away.

  Once she’d filled her plate, Kate leaned back against the sofa and tucked one leg under herself. As she forked up her first bite of food, she thumbed through the index cards in her brain, trying to find a topic of conversation. Something casual. Something friendly. Nothing that involved Viv or sex or marriage or—

  “How did Jossy lose her leg?” Kate bit her lip, pretty sure that wasn’t the fun quip she’d been aiming for.

  The startled look on Jonah’s face underscored her suspicion.

  “Sorry,” she said, eager to backpedal. “You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want. That’s a personal question and Jossy’s story to tell. That was really rude of me.”

  “No, it’s fine. Jossy would be okay with you knowing.” He forked up a bite of curry and took a long time chewing it. Kate waited, unsure how to conduct herself. She stabbed at a piece of eggplant but couldn’t seem to get it onto her fork. At least the task gave her something to look at besides Jonah’s face.

  “You just surprised me; that’s all,” Jonah said. “I was going to let the silence draw out a bit so you’d tell me whatever was on your mind. I thought I’d have to wait longer than that.”

  Kate gave a small smile and took an equally small bite of pad thai. “My finesse might leave something to be desired, but I’m usually pretty direct.”

  “That’s a good skill to have.”

  He still hadn’t answered the question, so she waited. She was thinking of reiterating her insistence that he didn’t need to tell her anything when he finally spoke.

  “When I was eighteen, Jossy was fifteen,” he said slowly. “I had my license before she did, so obviously I ended up driving her around. It was one of the conditions our mom set before she helped me buy a car.”

  Kate nodded and picked up her beer. She took a small sip but kept her eyes on Jonah. He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring down at his plate, a rare moment of eschewing eye contact. Even Marilyn and her eyebrows seemed aware of a shift in the mood. She lay quietly on the back of the sofa, paws stretched in front of her like a sphinx. Her eyes were closed, and her face seemed unusually devoid of judgment.

  “One night, Jossy called me from a party and said she needed a ride,” Jonah continued. “I was in the middle of a date with a girl whose name I don’t even remember. Krista or Kristy or something like that. Anyway, I gave Jossy a hard time. Asked if there was someone else who could come pick her up.”

  Kate watched the side of Jonah’s face, noticing the furrow between his brows. The way he stared at his own hands, the plate of food forgotten in front of him.

  “Did you end up giving her a ride?” Kate’s voice was quiet, and she somehow knew what the answer would be before Jonah spoke again.

  “No,” he said. “I was a selfish teenage asshole who thought he had a shot at getting a blow job that night. Jossy—” He stopped there and took a shaky breath. “Jossy got in a car with a bunch of older kids. Juniors. Most of them had been drinking.”

  “The one behind the wheel?”

  He nodded, gaze still fixed on his plate.

  “Yeah. Yes.” He looked up at her then, and the sadness in his eyes hit her like a punch in the stomach. “It was my fault. My selfishness cost my sister her leg. Left her with a lifetime of shitty pain and doctor visits.”

  “Jonah, no. You were just a kid.”

  He shook his head like he hadn’t even heard her. “You want to know the worst of it?”

  Kate nodded, though she wasn’t sure she did. How could it be worse?

  “Jossy was a competitive cyclist,” he said. “She was really good, too. Fifteen years old, and the USA Cycling team was already starting to let her train with them. She had a future.” He shook his head and set his beer down hard on the coaster. “A future I fucking ruined.”

  It was on the tip of Kate’s tongue to insist that he couldn’t blame himself, but she stopped herself. Was there really a point to that? If he’d spent eighteen years telling himself it was his fault, no flippant remark from her would change that.

  “Can she still ride a bike?” Kate asked in a soft tone. “I don’t know how prosthetic legs work, exactly.”

  “It’s tougher when the amputation is above the knee like Jossy’s was,” he said. “There are computer-controlled knees that have settings for things like biking and skiing, but they’re insanely expensive. Hundreds of thousands of dollars once you factor in fittings and maintenance and things like that.”

  “And insurance doesn’t cover it?”

  “Most don’t,” he said.

  A light flickered in the back of Kate’s brain, and she finally understood. “So that’s why you’re doing the TV show,” she said. “That’s why you changed your mind after I showed you the budget.”

  Jonah nodded once and spun his beer on the table. “Jossy knows computer-controlled prosthetics exist, obviously. But it’s never been an option before. She’s never wanted to talk about it.”

  “Does she know that’s why you’re doing the show?”

  He shook his head. “But I figure if I find myself sitting on a huge pile of cash, she’ll have a hard time saying no.”

  “Jonah.” This time she did reach out and touch him. A hand on his knee, which seemed like a pitiful gesture once she saw her own five fingers sitting there useless and small. He looked at it for a long time, almost like he was wondering how it got there.

  “That really fucking sucks,” Kate said. “For you, for Jossy—hell, for the other kids in that car, whether they died or got injured or have to live with what they did forever. It fucking sucks for everyone.”

  Jonah burst out laughing. He laughed so hard that for a moment, Kate worried he’d slipped into hysterics. Even Marilyn seemed alarmed, her eyebrows lifting as she repositioned herself a few inches away.

  “Oh, Kate,” he said, shaking his head with laughter in his voice. “You say the best things sometimes.”

  Kate grimaced, wondering if she should back up and try again. “I’m sorry for your—for her—loss.”

  He shook his head, still laughing a little. “You know what Viv said to me the first time I told her that story?”

  Kate felt a pang at hearing Viv’s name, but forced herself to stay focused on the conversation. “No. What?”

  “She said, ‘Guilt is an emotional warning sign that there’s something here for you to learn. Self-examination can be healthy, and this is a beautiful opportunity to grow and mourn and flounder and breathe.’”

  “That’s beautiful,” Kate said. “Much more put together than what I said.”

  “Sure, it’s great. Textbook example of what to say to someone who’s grieving and blaming himself. Literally—it’s from a book. A book she wrote.”

  “There’s nothing wrong with that,” Kate said, not certain why she felt like defending Viv. “She has wise insights to share. She’s articulate and—”

  “Kate, I know. You don’t need to sing my ex-wife’s praises. I know she has fans, and I know you’re one of the biggest. It’s just—sometimes people don’t want the platitudes. They just want connection. Something real. Something genuine. Something heartfelt, even if it’s, ‘that really fucking sucks.’”

  Kate twirled her fork around in the pad thai. “There was still a more poetic way to say that.”

  “Probably. But I didn’t invite you to dinner for
the poetry.”

  “Didn’t I invite myself to dinner?”

  “All the more reason I’m glad you’re here.”

  Jonah picked up his plate and took a bite of curry. The frown lines relaxed in his forehead, and though he wasn’t exactly smiling, he didn’t look as melancholy as he had a few minutes ago.

  “I’m sorry about what happened,” Kate said.

  Jonah looked up. “Are you talking about the car accident, or what happened between us the other night?”

  “The car accident.” Kate bit her lip. “I’m not sorry about what happened between us. It can’t happen again, of course—”

  “Of course.”

  “But like you said the next morning: It wasn’t a mistake. We were pulled into each other’s orbit for a reason.”

  Jonah grimaced and looked down at his plate. When he looked up, his expression had turned sheepish. “You knew that was a Viv quote, didn’t you?”

  “Yes.” Kate shifted a little on the couch, conscious of his closeness, of the riskiness of this conversation.

  “I didn’t realize it until hours later, when we were on set and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Forgive me?”

  “For what?”

  “For quoting my ex-wife in bed with you.”

  “There’s nothing to forgive.” Still, the apology meant a lot to her. That he’d even thought to offer it. “It’s natural she’d still be in your brain all the time. Natural, even, for you to still have feelings for her.”

  There. She’d put it out there. She was treading on dangerous turf, but she had to test the water, didn’t she? To find out how Jonah might react to Viv’s pursuit. It was her job as a producer, for the future of the show.

  “Denial is the worst form of—”

  “Feelings?” Jonah bit into a spring roll and gave her a dubious look. “I hope you don’t mean that the way people usually mean it when they talk about having feelings for someone.”

  “Would that be so far off the mark? You two were married, after all. You pledged to spend your lives together. You were so deliriously in love that you got matching infinity symbol tattoos.”

  “God, I wish we hadn’t put that in the damn book,” he muttered. “Or gotten the damn tattoos in the first place. Actually, I take that back. The tattoo is pretty cool.”