by West, Dahlia
The old man nodded and ran his crooked fingers over the spine. “Yeah. It is.” He flipped it open to the bookmark. “I’m on that chapter, too.”
“Oh, yeah? I could read it to you,” Jonah offered. “While we wait?”
Pop’s eyebrows rose. “You’d do that?”
“Sure, I would. And you seem to have left your glasses inside. So, I probably should.”
The corners of Pop’s mouth turned down. “I don’t wear glasses.”
“Oh, sorry. My mistake. I could read it anyway. If you want.”
“Okay. That’d be nice.”
Jonah reached for the book, and the old man grunted as he eyed Jonah’s bruised knuckles. “Troublemaker?”
Jonah grinned. “Nah. Just taking care of business. You do what you gotta do, you know? My dad taught me that.”
Pop studied him skeptically. “What’d you fight about? A girl?”
Jonah nodded. “Fought for a girl.” Same thing, he supposed.
Pop pointed to the fading bruise on Jonah’s jaw. “Your old man didn’t teach you not to lead with your chin?”
Jonah chuckled and shook his head. “Actually, my dad never taught me to fight.”
The old man frowned and grunted. “Seems like a thing a man oughta teach his boys. I taught my boys, Adam and Dalton. They can hold their own with the best of them.” The pride in the man’s voice was unmistakable. A knot formed in Jonah’s chest as he realized Pop probably wasn’t nearly so proud of him. How could he be?
Jonah paused and considered his words carefully. “I used to get into too many scuffles as a kid,” he finally told him. “For all the wrong reasons. I don’t think he wanted me to get any better at it, if you know what I mean. He tried to distract me with other stuff, instead. He gave me my first book, actually. Treasure Island. I still have it.”
Pop made an approving noise in his throat. “That’s a good one.”
“Yes, sir. My favorite. In his own way, he did the best he could.” Jonah looked down at the book in his lap and ran his hand across the cover. “I’ve never said thank you, though. I want to, but…it’s hard to find the right words. Sometimes it feels like I have too much to tell him that it’s all a jumble in my head. I don’t know where to start or how much to say. So, I end up not saying anything at all.”
The old man considered Jonah’s dilemma for a minute. “The words’ll come to you,” he finally decided. “Just say ‘Thank You’ and the rest will figure itself out.”
Jonah nodded. “I might do that, then. Thanks for the advice.”
At that moment the porch door swung open and Calla appeared in the doorway. She sighed in relief as she looked at Jonah. “Oh, thank God,” she half-whispered. She looked at Pop and then at Jonah. “I thought he was out here by himself.”
Jonah frowned at her. By himself. Talking to himself. Had things really gotten that bad? Jonah didn’t see Pop every single day, but he visited a few times a week. He guessed Calla would know better, though, how much worse the old man was getting.
“Nope, I’m here,” Jonah told Calla, forcing a smile. He held up Cristo. “We’re just going to read a little.”
Calla nodded but cast a worried look at Pop.
When Jonah looked, he saw that the old man had turned away from them both. His jaw was fixed and he was gazing out at the street in front of them. He looked confused, agitated, and a little angry.
Calla slipped back inside, letting the screen door close quietly.
After she was gone, Pop muttered, “Don’t know her.”
Jonah understood, then, why the man was upset. He was in a house surrounded by strangers, people who weren’t family, people he didn’t really know. Jonah knew how that felt all too well.
“She’s a friend of Miriam’s, I think,” Jonah told him.
The old man perked up at that. “Miriam? You know Miriam?”
Jonah nodded. “Yeah. I’ve met her a few times. You know, church, visiting Adam. Like that. She’s…she’s a very nice lady. She was good to me.”
Pop gazed at Jonah, scrutinizing him. “Sounds like you know her pretty well.”
“She…she helped me once,” Jonah replied. “When no one else would.”
The old man nodded and twisted the gold band on his left hand. “Yeah,” he sighed. “Miriam’s like that. No matter who you are, she can look right into you and see all the good.” He grunted. “Don’t know what she saw in me.”
“I know what you mean,” Jonah confessed.
“She’ll be back soon,” Pop told him. “She’s out right now.”
Jonah nodded because there was nothing to say to that.
Chapter Fifteen
In fact, Miriam Stark was never coming back. She wasn’t out and she was never coming home. Jonah knew exactly where to find her, though. He straddled his Harley and aimed it across town, to the cemetery, to her. He ducked through the fence and strode through the short grass, weaving his way through the boneyard, careful not to step over any actual graves, just like she’d taught him.
His hands were empty and he didn’t like that. It didn’t feel quite right. Jonah usually brought Treasure Island and her letter tucked inside it with him whenever he visited. He’d hadn’t planned to stop this morning, though, so they were both at home on his nightstand. He didn’t need the letter, really. He’d memorized every line, every word. He could recite it by heart if he had to.
He didn’t, but as he stood before her final resting place, he closed his eyes and pictured the clean, white envelope, the scrawling black ink, the shakily formed letters.
Dear Jonah:
My bravest boy. My strongest boy. My survivor. I see the light on in your bedroom at night and I wonder what you’re doing, what you’re thinking, why you can’t sleep. And I want so badly to take your nightmares away. I’d give anything to go back, carry you myself, bear you myself, and raise you the way you always should have been raised, with a Mother’s love and a Father’s pride.
I tried to give you that, every day, every chance I got because though you tried not to show it, you thrived on it, Jonah. I could see it in your eyes and the way that you carried yourself.
You are better when you know you are loved.
And I love you, Jonah. I love you so, so much. You love us, too. I can tell. I can see it. The way you are with Ava, with little Sienna, holding her hand while you cross the street. You love, Jonah. You always have. That’s never been your problem. You need to learn to be loved. Because you deserve it, because you are worthy of it.
Don’t just survive, Jonah. Promise me you’ll thrive. Don’t live inside your head. Don’t be afraid to take a chance. Don’t waste time. You’ve spent too many years being unhappy. Hasn’t it been long enough?
Be happy. Be brave. Be strong, my beautiful boy.
Be loved, Jonah.
I’ll see you again, someday, and I know I will marvel at the man you finally let yourself become.
LOVE ALWAYS,
Mom
Jonah kicked a small pebble in the grass and watched it roll. “Pop’s not so good,” he told her. “He forgets me, Mom. He goes away, goes back in time, where I don’t exist and never will. And just like that, it’s like I’m nobody again. A little boy without a family, without a home. I was nobody for so long, and then I was somebody, and, oh, God, Mom I hate it—I hate that feeling when he looks at me and sees a stranger.
“He’s fading fast. He’s not dead but sometimes it feels like it. I mean, it feels like it’s already too late to say the things I should’ve said years ago. I waited too long with you. I did tell you, though, that last night. But you…you couldn’t hear me by then. And I could tell him what I need to tell him now, but he won’t remember.”
He wished like hell that he had the book and the letter with him. They were concrete reminders that he belonged somewhere, belonged to people who loved him. “I still will, though,” he promised. “I will tell him. As soon as I figure out what to say.”
Jonah cleared his th
roat and decided to give Pop’s advice a try, a test run, so it would seem. He opened his mouth and said, “Thank you.”
The sound was loud and clear and the summer breeze seemed to carry his voice to the nearby trees, which rustled, giving the response that she couldn’t.
“Thank you so much, Mom. For believing in me, for seeing what no one else did, for giving me a chance to be part of a family. A real family, a good family. And for those stupid, fucking shoes. Sorry,” he quickly corrected. “Those stupid shoes. My whole life, nothing else ever meant that much. No one ever gave me anything. No one ever cared enough to.”
And Pop had been right. The words came easier, faster, and closer to the truth than they ever had before. “I want to tell you everything, to come clean about some of the lies I told or the things I let you believe that weren’t exactly true. But, I guess, now you already know everything. And, I guess…I guess you also know how much I love her, how much I’ve always loved her. She kept me from running away that night and she’s the reason I stayed, but you…you were the reason I wanted to be a Stark and not just some foster kid that you’d forget about when I turned eighteen.”
Jonah pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hold back the flood, but it didn’t work. It never did when he came here. Tears dripped down his cheeks and he wiped his face with his forearm.
“You smelled like cookies,” he told her. “And you never raised your voice. And you always had a smile. For a long time I thought there had to be something wrong with you, some deep, dark secret you were hiding, because I thought everybody was like that. I looked through your closet,” he confessed. “In your drawers and under your bed. It took a long time for me to admit that I was the one with the secret.”
Jonah looked up at the clear, blue sky, blinking at the brilliance of light above him. “Except it wasn’t really a secret, though, not from you. You knew, you and Pop, but you took me in anyway. I don’t know what you saw in me,” he told her. “Sometimes I still don’t, but… I’m trying now… to be what you wanted me to be. And you were right, Mom. I’m not wasting any more time. I’m going to do my best not to screw it up. If she sees half of whatever it was you saw in me, just half, then she might decide to keep me, too.”
Chapter Sixteen
When Jonah walked into the swanky Custer Hotel with Sienna on his arm, he felt like a million bucks, which was pleasantly surprising. Not that they were attending Daisy’s wedding together—that had always been part of the plan from the minute he’d been invited. But he was amazed at how good it felt to be seen standing next to her, touching her, making it clear that he was with her.
Adam was still eyeing him strangely, as though he hadn’t quite gotten used to the idea of Jonah dating. That could have been the case, or, possibly, he was just concerned because Jonah had borrowed Adam’s car to bring her. The Charger was just fine, though, and Jonah gave his oldest brother an impatient nod to indicate that.
Adam loved that car like it was his baby. Almost as much as the actual baby Calla was carrying. Almost, but not quite. Even in public, the man couldn’t keep his hands off his wife’s belly. Calla was only just barely showing, and honestly only if you knew to look. Adam was a proud papa, though, before there was much to even be proud about.
Jonah shrugged to himself. At Adam’s age, he was probably just happy that his dick still worked.
Just inside the entrance of the second-floor ballroom stood Ava and Emilio. When they were spotted, Emilio glowered at him. “Go away!” he told Jonah.
Jonah’s brow furrowed. “What? Why?”
Emilio huffed at him, gesturing to Jonah’s suit. “You’re not allowed to look this good. Don’t stand beside me.”
Jonah grinned and straightened his tie. “You’re dating my sister. Other chicks don’t matter.”
Emilio shook his head. “It’s not that, hermano! There’s too much hotness in a square foot radius right here. You don’t step away and this entire hotel might go up in flames.”
Jonah laughed. “I don’t think we’re going to have to worry about that.” He lifted his chin toward the far side of the ballroom.
Up front and impeccably assembled stood the men of Burnout, from Shooter as the best man, to Hawk, Tex, and Doc lined up as the groomsmen. Easy stood at the center of the aisle, waiting on his bride. They were all in tuxedos; apparently they really had left the Army behind entirely. It didn’t make too much of a difference, though.
Every female eye was trained on the ex-Army Rangers, anyway, unwavering, unblinking. Even Ava was appreciating the view.
When Emilio realized it, his jaw tightened. “Hey!” he hissed and swatted Ava’s ass.
She yelped a bit and waved his hand away.
Jonah, always amused by them, shook his head, took Sienna by the hand, and led her to an empty pair of chairs. Once they sat, he was surprised to see that Sienna wasn’t even interested in the wall of testosterone in front of them. Instead, she was twisted in her seat, neck craning toward the back.
He leaned over and whispered, “What are you doing?”
“Looking for Daisy,” she whispered back. “I want to see her dress. I bet she looks beautiful. I bet her shoes are killer, too. I wonder what she did with her hair? I bet…”
Jonah was less interested in Daisy’s dress or her hair, but he wondered how often Sienna thought about her own wedding day, if she ever did. He wasn’t sure how true it was that every little girl dreamed about it. Ava certainly didn’t, not unless it included mud tires and a helmet.
He knew so much about her that any little detail that he hadn’t been aware of instantly fascinated him. It was like finding a new facet on a diamond.
The crowd hushed as the doors opened. Abby came down the aisle first, and of course Jonah knew her. Hawk’s wife followed, and though Jonah had never met her personally, he was given to understand that at any moment Hawk might break ranks, charge down the aisle and carry his obviously pregnant wife the rest of the way. The large Sioux somehow managed to contain himself, though. But his sharp gaze never wavered from Tildy for an instant.
A brunette he didn’t know came through the doors. She looked slightly uncomfortable walking in heels. Jonah wondered what kind of footwear she would have preferred instead. Upon closer inspection, he could have sworn he saw a bulge at the woman’s inner thigh. His eyebrows shot to the ceiling.
At that moment, Emilio, who’d taken the seat behind him, leaned forward and whispered, “Twenty-two.”
Jonah turned back to gape at him. No shit? he mouthed.
Emilio gave a solemn nod.
Jonah eased back into his seat, mind buzzing with that information. Who came strapped to a wedding? As a bridesmaid? He leaned back a little farther. “So, is that the mafia chick?” he hissed.
Emilio shook his head. “Nah. Bounty Hunter. The mafia chick’s the redhead.”
Jonah swallowed hard as he realized he’d pierced the nipples of a mafia princess. Or whatever she was. Emilio had said she’d left it all behind in Vegas. Damn, he thought to himself and hoped like hell he’d done a good job.
Sarah, Shooter’s wife, was the last of the procession. She looked deliriously happy as she walked down the aisle. Jonah wondered what it was like to have so many close friends that you couldn’t count them on both hands. He’d never even had one friend, aside from Emilio, and that had been a recent development.
He figured it must be nice to have people to share your best moments with. He’d always felt that way about his family.
Daisy finally appeared, in a knee-length white dress and a short veil that didn’t cover her face.
Sienna gasped and gripped Jonah’s hand tightly as she passed them.
Jonah supposed he did count her as a friend, too, since she was at the shop so much, creating art for Adam. She was nice and funny and totally down-to-earth and Jonah was happy for her. One night, over beers, Emilio had let it slip about their…inauspicious…beginnings, but looking at them now as they stood together in front of th
e pastor, you’d never know they’d ever been anything but totally, completely in love.
He wondered if that’s what people thought when they saw him looking at Sienna. He hoped it was.
The pastor had a lot to say about fidelity and the permanence of marriage. It was possible that Daisy’s visible tattoos had something to do with that. Jonah knew from Emilio, though, that it would never be a problem. These men, Emilio said, were only marginally domesticated wild animals. They claimed their women fully and kept them for life.
Jonah could absolutely relate to that.
Their nuptial kiss was searing. It had the pastor tugging at his collar. Most of the guests paid it no mind. In truth, the gathering was pretty small, mostly Maria from the bar and a few girls that Jonah knew waited tables there. Jonah guessed that they’d seen worse on Saturday nights.
A DJ replaced the pastor who seemed all too ready to get the hell out of there. He was probably going to bathe in Holy Water when he got home. Music thumped and the dance floor filled up. Surprisingly, Jonah felt like joining in. He grabbed Sienna’s hand and headed in that direction. On their way across the ballroom, a girl caught sight of Jonah and smiled at him. She pursed her lips suggestively and licked her lips.
Sienna’s eyes flashed, shooting daggers at the girl. When she finally scared the girl away, she turned back to find Jonah’s face just inches from her own. Startled by his proximity, she started to move backward but he swooped in and pecked her on the lips.
He snaked his arms around her waist and pulled her in close. “Let’s dance,” he told her.
Sienna gave in, moving her hips along with his. The song was slow and not one that Jonah recognized, but he didn’t care. He was just happy to be here.
Sienna didn’t look happy, though. She glanced around the large ballroom, corners of her mouth tugging down. “All these girls are looking at you,” she told him.
Jonah grinned and swung her in a circle. When she was back on her feet, he said, “So, what do you want to do? Do you want to take me home and chain me to the bed? I’d be okay with that.”