Unwritten Rules

by M.A. Stacie

  “Having fun, Red?”

  I cringed, pulling back from him as if he had slapped me. I didn’t know one word could be so painful. It wasn’t as if people hadn’t referred to me by that name before, because I’d gotten it all my life. The name now associated with a new level of intimacy, one I didn’t like associating Beau with.

  “A-are you alright?” He questioned, the nerves showing in his slight stammer.

  “Can you not call me that,” I uttered. “Please?”

  He nodded, his eyes darting fervently around the table. He was checking to see whether J.J. or Eli had been watching us, but they appeared to be locked in a conversation of their own. I felt guilty. He had been pleasant the entire evening, nicer than I originally thought he’d be.

  But he wasn’t my type. I only had one type. As much as I like to think I was coping well with everything, I wasn’t, and Beau didn’t deserve to be strung along like this.

  For the rest of the meal, I became quiet and subdued. I pushed the fruit around the bowl, trying hard not to think about him, but in doing that I did think about him. It was a vicious circle. I hated it.

  I wanted to go home.

  The atmosphere around the table had grown tense. No one was making eye contact. The whole date was a bust.

  “Do you ladies want to get your coats? We’ll sort out the bill, won’t we Eli?”

  J.J. was more than happy to. I had to fight an eye roll at the chauvinistic attitude. I could pay for my own food, but J.J. proceeded to drag me out of the restaurant with surprising force. She must have seen the annoyance written all over my face.

  I tapped my heel impatiently against the wall as we waited for our coats. I snapped when we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “You know I hate you for this, don’t you?”

  “I just wanted you to stop the pity party. If being mad at me is the only way, then so be it.”

  J.J. didn’t see that she’d done anything wrong, and maybe she was just trying to cheer me up, but I couldn’t sit and pretend to enjoy myself when I wasn’t.

  “I’m not ready, J.J.”

  “Sure you are,” she replied smugly as we began to stroll down the street. “Anyway, he isn’t exactly asking for your hand in marriage, is he? Beau just wants some fun, Elle. Calm down.”

  “I’m going home,” I stated, pulling J.J. back from the men.

  J.J. scowled at me, but I didn’t wait around to hear what she had to say. I hailed a cab and was climbing into it as she yelled for Eli and Beau to stop walking. My cell started to ring within minutes of me taking a seat, and after checking the screen, I chose to ignore it. I wasn’t going to argue with J.J. about this. I should have said no. I should have put my foot down from the start, because deep down, I knew I wasn’t ready to move on. I felt guilty for leaving them there like that, just not enough to turn around. She should have left me to deal with my own social life or lack thereof. I had been doing just fine going for drinks with her and Elijah; I didn’t need the extra complication.

  After paying the driver and riding the elevator up to my apartment, all I could think about was running a bath and shutting the world out. However, as I walked from the elevator, I could see something resting on the mat outside of my door. I moved closer, making out what looked like a magazine wrapped in a pink polka-dot bow. When I bent down to retrieve it, my eyes fixed on the handwriting.

  I knew the script; I’d seen it before.

  My hands shook; my heart feeling like it was in a vice grip as I entered my apartment. I dropped my purse onto the floor, my keys following suit. I sat on the couch, numbness overcoming me. I had heard nothing from him in weeks. I didn’t get why he would send me a present now.

  He had to know how much his rejection hurt. Surely he realized how hard I was fighting to get over him?

  With trembling fingers, I opened the bow and looked at what he’d sent me. I let out a gasp as I realized he hadn’t just sent it to me, Jonah had drawn this for me. It was a graphic novel made for me, and amongst the characters, I recognized a tall redhead. Her name was Ellectric. She was searching for the true identity of the hooded figure. I was entranced by the images, devouring every detail of the sketches on the page. It was our story, and I was taken aback when I got to the last page. The hooded assassin lowered his cape, revealing his true form.

  Jonah.

  This is me. You’ve seen it all, and now I need your help. You have the power to heal wounds like I have never encountered. I need that. Elle, I need you.

  The words written on the page made tears trickle from my eyes. They plopped onto the page, leaving a pool at the feet of the drawn Jonah. He was reaching out for me, and every cell in my body was telling me to go to him. This was his way of lowering the wall, of allowing me entrance into his life, into his hurt.

  The voice that had held me at bay for weeks wasn’t telling me to stop anymore. In fact, it was screaming at me to do the opposite. I didn’t debate. I didn’t even try to talk myself out of it. I took the paper novel and rushed across to my front door, intending to go upstairs and see Jonah. When I opened it, I walked right into a hard body. A humph was expelled from both me and the body. When two hands gripped my biceps, I knew who it was.

  “Slow down, Red.” The rumble of his words had my insides fluttering and my heart singing. I held up the book.

  “You made this for me,” I said, breathlessly.

  “Did you read it?” He asked, his voice husky and low.

  “Yes. All of it.”

  He exhaled loudly, his eyes darting around my face as he tried to assess my emotions. I could see his struggle. I wanted to ease it, but he had to know I wasn’t a doormat.

  “Jonah, you hurt me. Again. You rejected me when all I wanted to do was help you. I told you I wasn’t a doll you could pick up and put down depending on your mood. I’m still not.”

  “Oh, Elle, I’m so sorry. I messed up. I messed up bad. What’s in that book is no lie. I need you to help me. I want to be whole.”

  “I’m not your fairy godmother. I can’t wave a magic wand and make it all better. My kiss won’t heal you. I’m just me. Jonah, you keep taking but you give very little in return,”

  I said honestly. “I could never hate you for something that happened ten years ago. However, I dislike what you’re doing now. I dislike what you’re doing to me! Jonah, you need to try harder.”

  He nodded, shuffling on his feet, flicking at the pages off the book I held. “I want to. I need to.”

  I moved away, allowing him to enter my apartment, allowing him into my heart, and praying once again, that he wouldn’t break it.

  The silence was deafening; the atmosphere oppressive.

  I refused to make small talk and pretend everything was all right. Jonah needed to stop hiding, to start dealing with this. Only then would he have any hope of being part of a relationship. I admit I wanted to be the one to hold his hand through this, but I had to draw a line somewhere. I couldn’t let him use me for quick bouts of comfort, and he knew it. He had acknowledged as much in the comic book he had drawn for me. The ball was still firmly in his court.

  I clutched the book close to my chest, staring out across the room and listening to Jonah’s deep breaths. I was beginning to wonder if he would ever speak, when he finally did.

  “You scare me,” he declared.

  My brows knitted together, perplexed by his words, as he continued.

  “You showed me that there is a way out of this void I’ve been in. Those times we were together were the best moments I’ve had in ten years.”

  “No way,” I snorted softly. “Better than when your novels were published? Better than the first time your band played a decent gig?”

  “Yes. Better than every one of those.”

  I stared at him in disbelief, but chose to say no more. It all finally clicked. I understood why he shut me down and pushed me away, which made forgiving him easier.

  “I didn’t set out to fall in love with you. I know you don’t like that I
feel this way, but that’s the truth of the matter.

  I refuse to take a step back, Jonah. I won’t crush what I feel because it makes your denial easier,” I stated adamantly.

  He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and exhaled, “I don’t think I’m asking you to.”

  “Think? Seriously, I’m tired of the pushing and pulling here. I get that you have more baggage than the average guy does. I’ve accepted that. I never blamed you or said anything disparaging about what happened to Quinn.

  In fact, I was on your side. I saw the incident for what it was – a terrible accident. It was, and still is, you, that can’t accept that.”

  I swallowed, breathing deeply to try and get a grip on my composure. Raging on wouldn’t get us any further and would only make me feel better for a few minutes. So instead we sat in silence, neither one of us sure of what to do next. I studied his hands as he worried them, watched his foot tap to an inaudible beat. I averted my gaze when his met mine. All the while I held his comic to my chest as if it was a barricade between the pain Jonah inflicted on my heart.

  When he reached out, his fingertips touching mine, I jumped, startled by the sparks that shot up my arm.

  He cleared his throat, prodding his pinkie against mine, silently seeking a way in. It was endearing in its naivety, but I held back.

  “I need your help, Red,” he muttered a few moments later. “What I wrote in there... ” He pointed at the book. “It was all true. You’re the only one that can help me through this – the only one I want. I don’t know if what I feel for you is love. I’m not able to examine that yet, but I do care for you. I wouldn’t be fighting to make myself better if I didn’t.”

  “You haven’t been fighting,” I pointed out, ignoring the flash of shock that flitted across his face. “You’ve been hiding and wallowing.”

  I finally linked my pinkie in his, offering him a weak smile. His shoulders lowered in relief.

  “I need to ask you something before we discuss us. I have to know this, because it’s relevant to your situation.”

  Jonah nodded and moved from his place on the chair to sit next to me on the couch. Uncertainty swirled in his eyes as he pulled my hands to rest in his lap. His thumb stroked my knuckles, impatiently waiting for me to ask my question.

  I was unsure how to ask the question. It was such a sensitive topic. I decided ripping the virtual band aid off was the most viable option.

  I squeezed his hands tightly and locked my eyes to his. “Did your parents really disown you? Because I feel like I’m not matching the puzzle pieces together correctly.

  You told me you talk to them once a year, yet you send them money. From what I gather, this is the first time they’ve refused the check. I’m confused. I’m tired of playing games and just want it all laid out in front of me. I think it’s the only way we stand a chance of moving forward together.”

  I watched the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the honesty of the conversation affecting him. I could understand the hesitation. He’d never been this open with anyone before. He was finally dealing with it, pain and all.

  He knew, just as much as I did, that this would be the crux of our relationship; if Jonah refused to work through his past, there was no hope for our future.

  “After it happened... ” he began, his words barely a whisper. “After the doctors had explained Quinn’s prognosis, my parents became distant. Tom had been wild at first, threatening to do the same to me, to make me pay, all of which I understood. It was the calm clarity I couldn’t cope with. He and Mom seemed to band together in their sympathy for me, although they grew apart from each other.

  I saw the wedge that had now being driven between them. It was me, my fault. He was the only father I’d ever known, and I couldn’t stand the thought that I would be the one to split them up.”

  I nodded, stoking his forearm. Jonah cringed but continued.

  “They went days without saying anything to each other, except news of Quinn. Watching them made my chest split open with guilt. I’d robbed my brother of his future, possibly split up the two people who had done nothing but love me, and fucked over everyone that had gotten in my way. When the disgusting reality hit me, that there wasn’t a single reason I’d done it besides being a pissed off teenager, I couldn’t stand myself.”

  “Jonah, kids do stupid things-” I interjected, only to have him shut me down.

  “Please, don’t make excuses for me.”

  “I’m not,” I huffed. “I wish you would listen to me.

  Hear the words I’m speaking. I’m not making excuses; I’m saying that sometimes there isn’t a reason.”

  He scowled. “No reason for why my brother can’t use his legs? Elle, really?”

  I pulled away from him, glaring before shoving at his chest. “Are you an angry little shit now? Huh, Jonah?” I pushed again, taking note of the confusion as it flitted across his face. “Do you still want to dismiss the world?

  Hate everyone in it?”

  His gripped my wrists, holding them firmly between us, as he breathed, “No.” He repeated the word, this time his voice cracking. “No.”

  “Still hate your parents?”

  “No,” he replied shakily, the tremor wracking his body. I tried one more time, hoping to get through.

  “Do you still resent your brother?”

  A whimper bubbled up and exited his lips seconds before he sagged against me. Jonah Quinn crumbled, crying into my lap, clinging to me as if I was all that kept him afloat. I enveloped him in my embrace, letting him unleash every ounce of grief and guilt that had rotted inside of him for the last ten years. I stroked his head, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and whispered soothing words, knowing that he needed to break like this.

  We stayed like that, a bundle of raw emotion, for almost an hour. At one point I thought he had fallen asleep.

  Once again, we were having our most intimate talk in the early hours of the morning. I was exhausted, and close to drifting off to sleep, when Jonah spoke, again.

  “My parents didn’t kick me out; I left. It was the day Quinn returned from rehabilitation. When they went to bring him home I packed, left a letter, and have never returned.”

  “Oh, Jonah... ”

  “His medical care is expensive, so that’s what I send the money for. That’s also what drove me to get a decent paying job. I didn’t get much from the first comic I sold, nevertheless, I sent them the full amount. I was still living in a motel at the time; they needed it more than I did.”

  “Was this the first time your parents rejected it?” I asked, combing my fingers through his hair.

  He turned his head, looking up at me from my lap.

  His eyes were red from the tears; his cheeks were mottled from where they had trickled down. Every cell in my body called to end his torture. I resolved to do whatever was required.

  “Yeah, I just don’t get why.”

  “Um, did you call them to ask?”

  He sat up, his shoulders set. I thought this was about to turn nasty then he shook his head. I reached out, cupping his face in my hands, and bit back the urge to kiss him better.

  “Why not? They talk to you, don’t they?”

  “My parents don’t hate me, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m the one that removed myself from them, not the other way around. Sometimes I think they don’t understand why I stay away.”

  “Maybe they don’t,” I replied, smoothing his cheekbones with my thumbs. “Is it so hard to believe that they could feel the same way I do? That it was a mistake you all have paid dearly for.”

  Jonah turned his face into my palm, nuzzling it and closing his eyes as he enjoyed the moment.

  “It’s too late,” he mumbled. “Too much time has gone by now.”

  “You’re wrong, Jonah Quinn, so very wrong. I’m going to prove it to you.” I pressed my mouth against his in a lingering, chaste kiss. “Thank you for opening up to me.

  Now it’s late, I’m exhausted, a
nd the sun is coming up.”

  “I’ll go-” he started, trying to move from the couch, but I stopped him.

  I stood, linking my fingers in his and smiled at the shock playing across his face. “Let’s get a few hours sleep.

  Then we’re going to sort it all out, starting with a phone call to your parents.”

  Jonah tried to back away as I continued to move toward my bedroom. There was only a moment of struggle before he grumbled and gave in, following me into the room. He needed reassurance, and that’s what I intended to offer.

  I woke to the smell of fried bacon and fresh coffee.

  It was bliss. I stretched my legs, wiggling my toes, only to squeal and pull them back when Meow took a swipe at them. He hissed when I nudged him off the bed, and my eyes darted to the door as I heard a throaty chuckle.

  “Was he trying to steal your warmth?”

  “No more than you were last night,” I grinned, smoothing out the comforter so that he could place the tray full of food down. “You really didn’t need to do this.”

  “I’ve been awake a while, and had to do something, otherwise I would’ve woken you up.”

  The side of his mouth quirked, flashing a tiny hint of dimple and lust began to pool low in my belly. I had to remind myself that now wasn’t the time. We still had a lot to discuss. Surely we could take a tiny timeout to enjoy each other though.

  Jonah sat cross legged at the edge of the bed, pointing at my heavily creased, purple party dress. “You should’ve changed out of that,” he pointed out, handing me a hot mug of coffee.

  “I didn’t want to disturb you. I wasn’t uncomfortable. It’s not the first time I’ve slept in my clothes.”

  Jonah took a bite of toast, chewing as he mulled something over. “You know, I’ve slept with you more times than anyone else in my entire life.”

  “Yeah? It is a bit strange how you’ve trusted me enough to allow me to sleep next to you, and yet you fought letting me in.”

  “You’re in now,” he pointed out, his voice gruff.

  “And we should talk about that,” I replied, patting the space next to me.