7. Jonah
SEVEN
Jonah
Friday, February 13
Jonah’s Condo
The Paramount Residences, 2100 Highland Avenue South
8:14 PM
The weight of a thirteen-hour shift settles deep in my bones as I pull into my complex. All I want is a cold beer, a hot shower, and maybe ten uninterrupted minutes to remind myself why I love my job.
But the moment I turn off the engine, I spot her.
A figure sits on the steps leading up to my condo, a duffel bag slumped at her feet. Even in the dim porch light, I recognize her instantly—Lila. Her arms are wrapped around her knees, her chin tucked down like she’s trying to disappear into herself.
“Lila?” I call out as I climb out of the car. She looks up, and my stomach drops.
Her face is pale, her eyes shadowed with exhaustion. A split lip and faint bruise on her cheek tell me she’s had more than just a rough week.
“Hey, brother,” she says, forcing a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “Surprise. Your baby sister came for a visit.”
“Yeah,” I mutter, walking closer. I paste on a smile so I don't give away that seeing her is not necessarily a pleasant one. If she's here like this, it can't be good. “Big surprise is an understatement. Are you okay? What the hell are you doing here?”
She shrugs, glancing away. “Yeah, I'm good. I just thought I’d drop in on my favorite big brother. Isn’t that what family’s for?”
“Well, since you only have one big brother, I’m not sure that’s much of a compliment,” I say jokingly, but I recognize immediately the familiar trait that all of us Bellingers have in spades: using humor to deflect. “Lila, come on. What’s going on? It’s freezing out here. Let’s get you inside.”
She doesn’t answer right away. Her fingers tug at the strap of her bag like it’s the only thing keeping her grounded. Her shoulders rise and fall in a sigh, and her breath clouds in the cold air. “It’s a long story.”
“Then you can tell me over a sandwich and a warm drink,” I say, motioning for her to follow me. “Come on.”
She hesitates while I grab her bag and lead us to my door. I notice how she keeps one hand in her pocket like she's protecting the Rosetta Stone. That split lip and the bruise on her cheek catch the light as she steps closer, and something twists in my gut.
The door clicks shut behind us, sealing out the February chill. I gesture toward the couch, where a soft throw blanket drapes over the back. I flip a switch, and the gas fireplace roars to life.
“Make yourself at home. I’ll grab us something to eat.”
I drop her bag near the couch, but she doesn’t sit. She paces a small circle instead, obviously harnessing some nervous energy. I head into the kitchen and pull two frozen chicken cordon bleu sandwiches out of the freezer. I throw them in the microwave, grab a bottle of water, and set it on the coffee table in front of her.
"Chicken work for you?" I ask even though it is already heating up. Beggars can't be choosers.
"You don't have to feed me, you know," she says rigidly. She is still pacing.
"I know I don't. But I have to eat and you know I hate eating alone. Do you want a beer, too?"
"No, I'm still sober. Water is great, thanks."
She's stopped drinking so many times in her short life that I never know if she's drinking or not. By the looks of her, it's a good thing she's not.
Once the microwave stops, I retrieve the sandwiches, bring them to the living room, and put the plate by her untouched water. "Sit down. You're making me nervous. You need to eat. So do I. Long day, so let's unwind together, huh?"
Lila finally drops onto the couch, curling her legs up and tucking them under her. She looks at the sandwich like it’s the first real meal she’s seen in days, but her hand hovers for a second before she picks it up.
“Thanks,” she murmurs, taking a bite. "Not a bad bachelor dinner on the fly."
"I try," I smile as I take a sip of my beer.
I sink into the chair across from her, watching as she chews. She’s deliberately slow, like she’s buying time. I let her finish the first bite before I speak.
“So,” I say, keeping my tone as casual as possible. “What brings you to Birmingham? Because I’m guessing this isn’t just a social visit.”
Her eyes flick up to mine, and for a second, something vulnerable flashes there. Then it’s gone, replaced with the same breezy mask she always wears when she’s cornered.
“It’s...complicated,” she says, reaching for the water. Her fingers tremble slightly as she twists the cap off.
“How long have you been here?”
“Just a few days,” she says quickly, but something in her tone makes me pause. That answer was too quick, too rehearsed.
Lila and I are enough alike that I know she would rather not talk about anything that goes too deep. But since she's here, I'm thinking this is her attempt to ask for help. As much as it pains me to go beyond the surface, I know I need to.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Lila, come on. Talk to me. You show up out of nowhere, looking like you’ve had a run-in with a truck, and you’re saying it’s ‘complicated’? Try me. I do complicated all day, every day, at work.”
She takes another sip, buying herself a moment. “It’s just a little trouble, okay? Nothing major. I've got it under control.”
“A little trouble doesn’t usually involve bruises,” I counter, keeping my voice calm but firm. “Did someone hurt you?”
Her grip tightens on the bottle, and she looks away. “Not exactly. It’s more like...someone wanted to send a message.”
A knot tightens in my stomach. “A message about what?”
She shakes her head. “I don’t want to drag you into this, Jonah.”
“Lila.” My voice drops, and she finally looks at me again. “You showed up at my door. You’re already dragging me into it. So, let me help you.”
Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, I think she’s going to open up. But then she shrugs, leaning back into the couch. “I just need a place to crash for a while. I’ll figure the rest out.”
I exhale slowly, studying her. She’s always been good at skirting the truth, but this feels different. There’s a weight in her words she’s trying hard to mask, but I can read it like a billboard. She's in trouble.
I know there’s more to this than she’s letting on. “You can stay here tonight. But tomorrow, we’re talking about this. All of it.”
Her shoulders relax slightly, and she nods. “Thanks, Jonah.”
We finish our sandwiches, and the conversation drifts to safer topics—family updates, random stories from her latest adventures, and the kind of drama only our relatives can conjure. For a little while, it feels almost normal, like she’s just my kid sister crashing with me for fun, not because of some lurking danger.
But the bruise on her cheek and the weight in her eyes tell a different story. I don’t push her any further tonight. Let her have this moment. Let me have it, too.
Saturday, February 14
9:21 AM
The smell of coffee hits me as I step into the kitchen, rubbing a hand over my face. Lila’s already up, fully dressed for the day and perched on one of the barstools with a steaming mug in hand. She’s scrolling through her phone, one leg tucked under her, wearing an oversized sweatshirt that I’m pretty sure used to be mine.
“Morning,” I say, grabbing a mug and pouring myself a cup. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Cupid.”
She looks up, giving me a tight smile. “Morning. Don’t remind me that today is the world’s most commercial lover’s holiday.”
I lean against the counter, sipping my coffee and studying her. The bruise on her cheek looks a little darker today, deep purple against her fair skin. She catches me staring and rolls her eyes.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” she says, setting her phone down.
“That’s a low bar,” I reply, arching an eyebrow. “You hungry?”
“Starving,” she admits, brightening slightly.
“Good. Let’s go grab breakfast,” I say, setting my mug down. “There’s a spot a few blocks away that makes killer pancakes. We can walk, but bundle up.”
She hesitates, glancing at her phone again. “Jonah, I’m fine. You don’t have to babysit me.”
“Who said anything about babysitting?” I ask, crossing my arms and leaning casually against the counter. “I’m starving, and I’d love the company. You can’t make me eat all alone on Valentine’s Day.”
“Why do you keep bringing that up?”
“Because I’m a lover. Plus, it’s nice to have a date with someone who isn’t trying to put a claim on me or redecorate my place.”
Lila snorts, finally cracking a small smile. “Wow, you're such a pig!”
I grin, grabbing my keys from the counter. “Always. Now, you coming? Pancakes don’t taste as good when you’re being judgy.”
She rolls her eyes but hops off the stool, grabbing her jacket. “Fine, but I’m not paying.”
“Who said you were?” I counter, grabbing my keys from the counter. “But if you insist, I’m happy to let you.”
She snorts, pulling her bag over her shoulder. “Nice try. You’re the big brother—big brothers always pay.”
I hold the door open for her, smirking. “Is that a rule? I must’ve missed that lesson.”
“It’s an unwritten one,” she says, breezing past me. “Now, let’s get those pancakes. Now that you've mentioned them, I can't think of anything else.”
“You know, for someone who just showed up out of nowhere, you’re awfully demanding,” I tease, locking the door behind us.
She grins over her shoulder. “And yet, you still love me.”
“Debatable,” I say, falling into step beside her. “But pancakes do sound good, so I’ll let it slide.”
Ruby’s Table
2012 Highland Avenue South
9:51 AM
The diner is warm and bustling. The scent of syrup and bacon waft around us as we slide into a booth near the window. I order the pancake stack with a side of eggs, while Lila picks at the menu like she’s debating whether she can finish a whole plate.
“Just get what you want,” I say, sipping my coffee. “I’ll eat whatever you don’t.”
She rolls her eyes but orders a massive breakfast platter anyway, complete with French toast and bacon.
“So,” I say casually, “you ready to tell me what’s going on with you?”
She stiffens slightly, stabbing at her napkin with a fork. “I told you, it’s nothing.”
“Right. And that bruise on your face is just a shadow.”
She narrows her eyes at me, but I don’t back down. “Lila, come on. I’m not trying to grill you. But since you showed up at my place, you could at least enlighten me. I want to help.”
“You can’t,” she mutters, looking away. “This isn’t something you can fix, Jonah.”
“Try me.”
She sighs, leaning back against the booth. “I messed up, okay? I owe some money to...people who aren’t exactly patient.”
My chest tightens, but I keep my tone even. “How much money?”
She shakes her head. “More than I can pay back right now. It doesn’t matter.”
“It does if they’re hurting you,” I say, my voice hardening slightly. “Is that why you came here? To hide?”
Her jaw works for a moment before she nods, barely. “I wasn't going to bother you at first. But then, I didn't have anywhere else to go.”
I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my hair. “What do you mean you weren't going to bother me at first? How long have you been in Birmingham?”
“Just a couple of days,” she snaps, her voice sharp enough to draw a glance from the next booth. She lowers her voice, her hands curling into fists. “I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. Obviously.”
What is she hiding? She is more defensive than I’ve ever seen her.
For a moment, neither of us speaks. The server drops off our plates, and I wait until she’s gone before I meet Lila’s eyes again. “Where have you been staying?” I ask softly.
"Crashing on friends' couches."
What the fuck? I had no idea my sister had connections besides me in this city. And realizing she's been here and I had no idea is a stab to my heart.
“You’re staying with me for now. We've got to get you out of this mess.”
Saying it, I mean it, but I have no idea how. If I can get her well and keep her safe, she will at least be in a better position.
Her lip trembles slightly, but she nods, picking up her fork. “Thanks, Jonah.”
We aren't the closest of siblings, but I'd give the shirt off my back for anyone, especially her. It's just a matter of coming up with a game plan. I may not be able to emotionally connect, but I sure as hell can figure out a way to fix this.