by True, Holli
“No thanks,” he said with a thoughtful smile. “You remembered.”
“How could I forget?” I asked, shifting my weight slightly, so I could be closer to him. “Though, I don’t know why you like it. It’s not very good.”
Jonah pursed his lips and shrugged slightly, holding a hand up with his palm facing me. “Moment of truth,” he said, “I actually didn’t like it. That was my first time ever drinking coffee, I just ordered the first thing I saw on the menu.”
I erupted in laughter, “Are you kidding me?”
He shook his head, “Sadly, I’m not.”
“Oh my,” I said in humored shock. I glanced over at the menu and pointed to my favorite drink, “Caramel Macchiato.”
He turned and followed my gaze, “Is it good?” he asked absently.
I moved around him, toward the counter. “Sit here,” I said, tapping one of the bar stools as I passed it. “You can decide for yourself.”
“You don’t have to do that,” he protested.
I turned on my heel and smiled at him, “It’s okay, I don’t mind. Let me make you a drink. It’s what I do.”
He smiled back at me and nodded. I heard him pull out the stool as I retrieved a steaming pitcher and a jug of milk to start our drinks. As I moved around the familiar area, I tried to concentrate, but I could feel him watching me, which was incredibly distracting. A few minutes later, I made my way back to him with two steaming cups, one for him and one for me. Jonah turned on his stool as I approached him, positioning himself face-on with me. As I set the porcelain cups on the wooden counter, he pulled out the stool next to him, scooting it closer to his as he did so. It didn’t go unnoticed.
“Careful,” I teased, holding back a smile as I took my seat, turning to face him directly. “It’s hot,” I said, referring to our drinks.
“I won’t make that mistake again,” Jonah said, unable to hold his laughter in. Then he gestured to the cup, “Thank you for this.”
“Anytime,” I said. And I meant it. His eyes were intent on mine, drawing me in. I had to look away.
“I thought about you all day,” he suddenly said, his voice soft and smooth. “And all last night, if I’m being honest.”
So much honesty all of a sudden. It was positively divine. Feeling shy, I peered up at him, but almost immediately I looked down at my hands in my lap. “I could say the same thing about every single day and night for the past several months.”
Jonah said nothing and I was too embarrassed to look at him. Instead, he reached over and laced his fingers with mine, stroking the side of my hand he held with his thumb. I kept my focus on our interlocked hands. They fit together perfectly, just like pieces to a puzzle. My hand would never feel complete again, unless it was holding his, of that I was certain.
The untouched drinks were all but forgotten as Jonah and I sat there, in silence. Only the faint pitter-patter of raindrops on the windows surrounded us. We didn’t feel the need to fill the silence with sound, proof of just how comfortable we felt with each other. I sighed softly to myself, feeling so content and happy. Everything suddenly felt so intensely beautiful and right, I didn’t want the night to end.
But, it still wasn’t clear where he and I stood with each other. Little had been resolved between us and I couldn’t keep ignoring the nagging thought in the back of my mind, yielding me to be cautious. There was still part of me that feared he would just up and leave again, leaving me reeling. And alone. I shuddered at the very thought of it.
“What’s wrong?” he asked gently. Apparently he had noticed.
“Nothing,” I lied. I couldn’t divulge my fear, even speaking the words was impossible to bear.
He didn’t look satisfied with my response, but he accepted it anyway.
“You should try it,” I said, gesturing to his cup. Anything to change the subject.
Keeping his hand in my lap, intertwined with mine, he used his other hand to lift his coffee drink to his mouth. After a slight hesitation, he took a small sip. I watched him eagerly, anticipating his reaction. I was relieved when he smiled.
“That’s actually really good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Well,” he laughed softly, “after experiencing black coffee, I wasn’t sure what to expect with this.”
“Experiencing black coffee?” I prodded him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone phrase it quite like that. But I’m glad you like it,” I said, taking a sip of my own.
He said nothing. His eyes were locked on his drink, which he had nearly consumed. I hoped I hadn’t hurt his feelings.
“So, tell me something about you, Jonah.” There were still so many things I didn’t know about him, I was willing to take anything he would offer. “Other than your aversion to black coffee, of course.”
He looked surprised by my sudden turn in conversation. “That’s a very broad question,” he said before lifting his cup and finishing off his drink.
“So, narrow it down for me.”
He raised an eyebrow and considered my question for a moment. “My favorite drink is a Caramel
Macchiato.”
I beamed at him, “Your life will never be the same now.”
His smile reached his eyes. “You’ve already proven that.”
I couldn’t repress the smile that slowly spread across my face. Oh, did he ever know how to make me blush a fierce shade of crimson.
“Well,” I said, sliding off the stool, “if it’s your favorite, I’m going to teach you how to make it.”
“You’re brave,” he said skeptically.
“Trust me.” It was a mild challenge.
It took mere seconds to see just how uncomfortable Jonah was behind the counter. As I retrieved the vanilla syrup, he stared blankly at me, as though he had no idea what I was doing. It was pretty humorous.
“Not very kitchen savvy, are you?” I teased him, pouring milk into a small steaming pitcher.
“I tried to warn you.”
I giggled. “So, the first thing we’re going to do is steam the milk.” I dropped a thermometer into the stainless steel pitcher and walked him over to the steam wand on the espresso machine.
“What do I do?” he asked, eyeing the machine closely.
“Hold this,” I said, placing the pitcher in his hand. “I’ll let you know when it’s hot enough, just make sure to keep the wand in the milk and you’ll be good.”
“Sounds easy,” he said with a cocky grin.
I switched the steam wand on to full power, the milk instantly startled moving and gurgling. The steam wand was submerged too far. “Lower the pitcher,” I instructed him.
So he did. Only he lowered it too far, so that the wand wasn’t in the milk at all. Remnants of liquid sprayed everywhere, mainly hitting Jonah.
“Too far!” I shrieked, grabbing his hands, lifting the pitcher back to the wand, causing more milk to splatter all about.
Jonah looked sideways at me, fully amused. He had white specks all over his arms, shirt and face. “I think I failed,” he said over the hissing of the machine.
“Everybody does on their first attempt,” I assured him, patting his face down with a towel.
He smiled his thanks at me, looking so devilishly handsome, I could barely stand it. But I couldn’t allow that to distract me or else he’d burn the milk and I would be to blame. I eyed the thermometer and nodded at him, it was ready.
“Put three pumps of vanilla in this,” I instructed him a moment later, handing him a cup. I pointed him in the direction of the container on the counter and then went to work on the espresso shots.
“Failed again,” he said a few seconds later. As he turned to face me, the streak of vanilla across the front of his shirt was painfully obvious.
“Your shirt!” I exclaimed.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Are you kidding? There’s syrup all over you! It’s going to stain!” I felt terrible.
“It’s not a big deal, Hailey.�
� He didn’t look annoyed in the least, he actually looked entertained.
“No, it’s all my fault. Give me your shirt, I’ll clean it for you,” I pleaded.
“How is it your fault? I did it.”
“Seriously, Jonah. I feel terrible. Please, just let me clean your shirt. It’s the least I can do.”
His jaw twitched as he looked down at me, the hesitation was written all over his face, I could practically read it line by line. But he finally caved. He lifted his arms over his head and pulled the back of his shirt up and off, all in one fluid motion. And all at once, a shirtless Jonah stood before me. I was not prepared to witness that.
I couldn’t help but stare. It was like looking at the sun, I knew I shouldn’t look, but my eyes gravitated there anyway. I couldn’t think, let alone speak, all of my words failed me. The very sight of him had thrown me completely off kilter, it was simply intoxicating. If I had known sooner what those shirts of his were hiding, I would have invented a reason to get him shirtless sooner.
Every muscle on his torso was cut with precise definition. I had to fight the uncontrollable urge to reach out and touch the ripples of his ab muscles, they were practically beckoning my name, taunting me. Along the left side of his rib cage was a quote of some kind, but he was turned just enough that I couldn’t read it from where I stood.
“Uh, in here...” I mumbled in a daze. I drifted into the backroom, relieved that my feet weren’t failing me as much as my head. My hands fumbled with the knobs on the sink, the vision of Jonah’s bare chest still very vivid in my mind. I knew what I would be seeing in my dreams that night.
From the corner of my eye, I watched as he folded his arms across his chest. He looked as physically uncomfortable as I was mentally.
“It’s your turn by the way,” he suddenly said.
“What?” I asked with a nervous laugh. If he thought I was going to remove my shirt next, he’d lost his mind.
“I told you something about me. Now it’s your turn to tell me something I don’t know about you.”
“Oh!” Oh. Right. Yes, good, distract me. “That’s fair,” I said softly, keeping my eyes away from him. I racked my brain for something to say, but all of my thoughts were clouded by him, leaving me with nothing but, I like to look at you without a shirt on. I stole another glance at him, applauding myself and hating myself, all at the same time. “I don’t even know,” I muttered lamely.
Jonah cocked his head to the side, I could feel his eyes on me. I concentrated extra hard on removing the evidence of syrup on his shirt. “What’s your favorite thing about dancing?” he asked a moment later.
I instantly smiled to myself, that was easy. “It makes me think about my dad.” I shrugged my shoulders, “When my dad died...” I trailed off for a moment, trying to find the words I wanted to say. “When he died, I basically poured myself into dance. It became a perfect distraction for my life, because I didn’t want to deal with it. Or couldn’t deal with it, really.”
“I think that makes perfect sense,” he said, his words were gentle and nurturing.
I smiled at him, grateful he had asked. I didn’t talk about my dad very often and it was nice to share that part of myself with him. I wished he could have met my dad, something told me they would have gotten along easily.
“Can you hand me that towel?” I asked, gesturing behind him.
Jonah turned to retrieve the towel from the shelf behind him, I couldn’t help but notice the definition of the muscles in his back. And then an alarm went off in my head, along with it, a flash of memories from the accident the other morning. When Jonah had grabbed me, it was he who had taken the brunt of the impact from the fall. It was his blood that had been all over my sweatshirt and his own shirt. And the amount of blood present meant that wounds were inevitable.
Yet, Jonah’s back was flawless. No signs of any injuries, scratches or wounds. Not even a scar. Nothing. How was that even possible?
“You know, Hailey,” Jonah turned back to me with a warm smile, pulling me from my thoughts, “even though you can’t see your dad, he’s always with you.”
An involuntary gasp escaped me as an undeniable onset of deja vu paralyzed my mind. Jonah speaking those very words to me, only in a different setting. A place with tons of windows and people...
I felt all of the blood drain out of my face and my hands started to tremble. An uneasy feeling swept over me, making my eyelids heavy and my head dizzy. I was certain I was about to faint. “Jonah...” I stammered, gripping the sink for stability.
But then everything went black.
. . .
Where am I?
I’m so sorry I failed you.
The words echoed in my head, as though it was trapped in an endless tunnel. Sometimes it was faint, other times it sounded like it was right in my ears, being spoken to me aloud.
I’m so sorry I failed you.
I must have fainted. Slowly, I peeled my eyes open, half expecting to find myself lying on the floor of my work. But whatever I was laying on was far too soft to be ground. Wherever I was, it was bleak darkness.
I’m so sorry I failed you.
My fingers swept softly across the fabric covering me, it instantly felt familiar. I was in my bed. There was no doubt about it. But how had I gotten here? Jonah?
I love you, Hailey. I love you so much. The voice was clear, I was almost certain the words were being spoke to me and not in my head.
“Jonah?” I asked, immediately sitting up. Was he there? My fingers skimmed the edge of my headboard until I felt my lamp. The light burned my eyes, but I forced them to scan every inch of the room anyway. No sign of Jonah, or Shayne for that matter. What the hell?
Chills shot down my back. That couldn’t have been in my head. I was absolutely certain of that.
I reached for my phone, surprised to find it in it’s usual place, to the right of my lamp. I squinted at the screen, reading the time. Less than an hour had passed since being at Fresh Press with Jonah. Wait. Less than an hour? How was that even possible? Where was he now? I threw back my covers and looked down at my clothes, as expected, I was still wearing the exact outfit I’d had on earlier that evening.
What had happened? Why had I fainted? I pressed my fingers to my temple and went through the timeline in my head, reliving the memories of my evening.
Caramel Macchiatos. Jonah’s hand holding mine. Spilled syrup. Shirtless Jonah. Hmm, I thought to myself, lock that one in the vault. Talking about my dad. Jonah’s woundless back. Jonah at the party.
Wait.
Jonah at the party? What party?
I racked my brain, desperate for more details. There were tons of people there, all standing near the windows. Wait. No, they were sitting. Jonah was one of them. I was wearing my new dress and Aunt Nikki tied a bow in my hair. Mom was crying. And I was, too. And then Jonah came over and smiled at me. He sat with me for awhile and then he turned to me and said, “Even though you can’t see your dad, he’s always with you.”
My blood ran cold. Not a party. My father’s funeral.
Oh my God.
Jonah was there. I was certain of it. I had never seen him before that day, but he had told me he knew my dad. That he had recently lost someone he loved, too. That he was sorry for my loss.
I gasped for air, all of the memories were pounding into me in ruthless waves. How was any of this even possible? What did it even mean? The fact that I had been covered in his blood and I had seen the proof of the injuries on his own clothing only days before, but there were no visible signs of any injuries at all only two days later? And the little voice in my head telling me that it loved me? My mind couldn’t even make sense of it because none of it made sense at all.
My breath suddenly caught in my throat and everything connected. I wasn’t wrong in thinking Jonah had been there only moments before talking to me. He had been. It had been him all along.
All of his cryptic words to me over the past few months. Him telling me he’d al
ways be with me. His ability to show up at a moment’s notice to protect me, help me, save me. The very fact that I had felt connected to him from the moment our eyes had met. It wasn’t all just a coincidence. The signs had always been there, I just hadn’t recognized them.
I didn’t know how. I didn’t know why. But I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was there with me at that very moment. Somehow. Someway.
Saying nothing, I slowly stood from my bed and calmly walked to my desk, my eyes constantly searching for him. Finding nothing. I retrieved a Post-It and a pen and then carefully wrote a note just for him.
I know you’re here.
Looking up at the collection of quotes above my desk, I reached up and pressed my latest note to the wall, right where he would see it.
- 16 -
tell her you love her
JONAH
My greatest desire and biggest fear had both come true. I didn’t know if I should feel devastated or relieved? Both felt wrong. Of course, Hailey didn’t know everything, she only knew a portion of the truth. I wasn’t sure what she had pieced together, but based on her note to me, she wasn’t far from unveiling everything.
There was no doubt that her new revelation would open the door to a world of questions and I wasn’t sure just how many of them I could answer. I doubted she had actually figured out what role I was meant to play in her life, or the fact that I had been created just for her. The very idea of having to explain it to her, without freaking her out, was quite daunting. After all, I had walked beside her, every step of her life, without her knowing. It was bound to have an affect on her. And us.
Rejection was something I had to prepare myself for. Once she had full disclosure from me, there was a definite possibility that she might want nothing to do with me ever again. I would never be ready to hear that. But no matter how I felt about her, if that was what she wanted, I would honor and accept it. Part of me hoped she would, so she could move on and live the life she was intended to live, without me. But the rest of me hoped she would accept me for what I was and love me just the same.