15. Jonah
FIFTEEN
Jonah
Sunday, March 1
4:31 AM
I settle onto Harper's couch, the events of the day weighing heavily on my mind. The wine glass in my hand is a welcome distraction as I take a long sip, savoring the rich flavor. Harper sits close beside me, her presence both comforting and electrifying.
"Remember that time we snuck into the hospital roof garden after our shifts?" I ask, a smile playing at my lips.
Harper's eyes light up. "How could I forget? You nearly gave us away with your clumsy fumbling at the door."
"Hey now," I protest, laughing. "I'll have you know my surgical skills have improved since then."
"I should hope so," she teases, nudging my shoulder playfully.
Our laughter fades, leaving a charged silence in its wake. My gaze drifts to Harper's lips, full and inviting. She notices, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity that steals my breath.
I lean in, unable to resist the pull between us. My fingers brush a wayward strand of hair from her face, lingering on her soft skin. "Harper," I murmur, my voice rough with need. "I haven't stopped thinking about you, about being with you."
Her reply is barely above a whisper, her warm breath ghosting across my lips. "Then stop talking so much."
I close the distance between us, capturing her lips in a kiss that starts slow and tentative. It's like rediscovering a favorite song, familiar yet thrilling. I cup her face, drawing her closer as the kiss deepens. Harper's hands tangle in my hair, igniting sparks wherever she touches.
My hands find her waist, and I lift her onto my lap, unable to get close enough. The dam of restraint I've built over the past two years crumbles, unleashing a flood of pent-up desire.
I trail heated kisses down Harper's neck, reveling in the soft gasp that escapes her. Her fingers work at my shirt buttons, exposing the tattoos that wind across my skin. The feather-light touch of her fingers tracing the intricate designs sends shivers down my spine.
I pull back, needing to see her face. "Are you sure?" I ask again, my voice a mix of desire and lingering doubt.
Harper's answer comes in the form of her shirt being pulled over her head, revealing her to me completely. I can't help the low groan that escapes me at the sight. My hands roam over her exposed skin, memorizing every curve and plane.
Being with her like this makes me lose time. Now, we're in my bed, tangled in the sheets. Harper's body presses against mine, and her breath is hot on my ear. The room is dark, but the soft lines of her face glow from the backlighting.
Our bodies move in sync, and the heat between us intensifies. Every touch, every kiss is amplified, electric. I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, matching the rhythm of my own. The world outside fades away, leaving only us lost in each other.
Suddenly, the room starts to spin, and the scene begins to blur. I reach out for Harper, but she's slipping away. "Don't go," I call out, but she doesn't respond.
I jolt awake, disoriented. My heart is racing, and I'm alone in my bed, sheets tangled around my legs. The vivid dream clings to me, Harper's phantom touch still tingling on my skin.
I groan, scrubbing a hand over my face. The ache of desire lingers, made worse by the knowledge that it was just a dream. Harper's laugh echoes in my mind, and her imagined moans still ring in my ears.
I lay there, trying to steady my breathing and shake off the remnants of the dream. But Harper's face, flushed with passion, refuses to fade.
My body aches with unfulfilled desire, and I'm left with a throbbing erection that demands attention.
I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself. It was just a dream, but the memories of Harper's touch linger. Whatever shit my brain is playing on me, it was vivid and intense. I can't shake the feeling of her body pressed against mine, or the taste of her lips, or the sound of her breath.
I close my eyes as my hand slides down to finish what the dream started. But even as I find release, I know it's not enough. I want more than just dreams. I want Harper.
X ? Downtown BHAM
5:24 AM
The sharp clang of weights hitting the floor echoes through the gym, but it barely registers over the pounding in my head. I grip the barbell tighter, my knuckles turning white, and force myself through another set of squats. The burn in my legs does nothing to chase away the dream—or the heat it left simmering in my chest.
What the hell is going on with me?
I rack the barbell, stepping back and shaking out my legs. Normally, this is my escape. My reset button. The gym has always been where I go to clear my head, to work out whatever’s gnawing at me until it’s nothing but sweat and exhaustion. But not today.
Today, all I see is Harper.
The way she laughed in the dream, that carefree, head-thrown-back kind of laugh. The way her hands gripped my coat, pulling me closer like she couldn’t stand the distance. The way her breath hitched when I?—
“Damn it.” I slam my water bottle down on the bench, earning a sideways glance from the guy curling dumbbells nearby. I wave him off, muttering, “All good,” and grab a towel to wipe my face.
Except it’s not all good. It’s far from it.
I’ve never been this fixated on anyone. What the fuck is wrong with me?!
Sure, I’ve thought about Harper before—who wouldn’t? She’s gorgeous, sharp, and confident in a way that’s both infuriating and magnetic.
But I've never thought about it too hard. She's just always been there. Always Harper.
That’s how I operate. I don’t overthink it, and I don’t let myself get too close, too tangled. Move on, keep it light, don’t risk screwing it up.
But with her, I did screw it up. I treated her like any other woman when she wasn’t. I made it worse with that stupid joke, throwing her in with a category she never belonged.
And now, here I am, pulling reps in a gym and replaying every damn detail of a dream that felt too real. Too good. Too much.
A dream I wish were reality.
So why now? Why her? Why this all-consuming need to get closer, to touch her, to?—
“Stop,” I mutter under my breath, rubbing the towel across the back of my neck. I’m a grown man, not some hormone-driven teenager. I can’t let one damn dream derail me.
But it’s not just the dream, is it? It’s the way she looked at me on the balcony last night, the way her voice softened when she said we shouldn’t. It’s the way I can still feel the ghost of her touch, even though it was all in my head.
And the worst part? She’s right. Casual isn’t an option here. It never was. Harper isn’t like the women I’ve been with before—she’s... more. More everything. And that scares the hell out of me.
I move to the pull-up bar, gripping it tightly and pulling myself up in one fluid motion. The strain in my arms is grounding, the repetition soothing. Up, down. Up, down. Focus on the movement, not the ache in my chest.
But no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake the thought that I’ve already screwed this up. Again.
I drop from the bar, and my feet hit the mat with a thud. My breathing is heavy, and my muscles burn, but none of it compares to the noise in my head.
I grab my towel and water bottle, slinging them over my shoulder as I head for the locker room. The shower won’t fix this, but maybe the scalding water will drown out the memory of her laugh, her touch, her everything.
I need something, or else I'm worried I might go insane.
Jonah’s Condo
6:52 AM
When I walk into the condo, the smell of coffee hits me first, followed by the sight of Lila perched at the kitchen counter. She’s in sweats and a hoodie with her hair loosely tied back.
There’s a faint shadow under her eyes, and she’s still moving gingerly, but she looks more like herself than she has in days. Her chipped mug rests in her hands, steam curling upward.
“You’re up early,” I say, setting my gym bag by the door. "I hope I didn't disturb you when I left at the crack of dawn. I couldn't sleep, so I figured I might as well be productive."
She smirks. “Didn't hear a thing. I guess I was still locked into my pain meds fog. I figured you’d be out longer, running another half-marathon or saving puppies out of trees.”
I roll my eyes and head to the fridge for water. “Very funny.”
Her smirk softens into something more curious as she studies me. “You okay? You look... off. Where is my jovial brother that always brings the light?”
“I’m fine,” I mutter, unscrewing the cap and taking a long swig of water. "Just a lot on my mind."
“Right.” She arches a brow. “Because ‘fine Jonah’ usually doesn’t have storm clouds following him home. What happened to your 'Sunday Funday' mantra you’re so known for?”
I toss the empty bottle into the recycling bin, avoiding her gaze. “I'm going to go lie down,” I say because I don't feel like being dissected right now. I'm happy to help my sister, but right now is one of those times I want my house to myself.
“Bullshit,” she says, leaning forward. “You’re never tired. What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I wave her off and grab another bottle of water. “Should you even be out of bed? Don’t you need to rest?”
“I’m fine,” she says, parroting my earlier tone with a grin. “Don’t change the subject.”
I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. Lila might be reckless, but she’s also sharp as hell. Brushing her off isn’t going to work. Plus, she might know me better than anyone. Hell, maybe even better than I know myself.
“It’s... complicated,” I finally admit, sitting across from her at the counter. “I don’t even know how to explain it.”
“Try me,” she says, cradling her mug. “I’m a captive audience.”
I hesitate, but then the balcony scene from last night floods back. Her lips on mine. The way she pulled back, her words cutting through the haze of want. I exhale sharply. “I kissed Harper last night.”
Lila blinks, then sets her mug down. “Okay... and?”
“And it was—” I shake my head, searching for the right words. “It was different. Like, it wasn’t just a kiss. It was... everything.”
Lila stares at me for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Jonah Savage Bellinger, the man, the myth, the eternal bachelor... losing his mind over a kiss?”
I glare at her. “This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”
She waves me off, still grinning. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Go on. Tell me more about this life-changing smooch.”
I roll my eyes, but the words tumble out anyway. “She pulled back. Said we shouldn’t, that she didn’t want to make the same mistake again. And she’s right. It would be a mistake. She’s put up these boundaries, and I know I should respect them. But... I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like she's become an obsession.”
Lila leans her elbows on the counter, her grin fading. “Jonah, you’re not obsessed. You’re finally catching feelings.”
“That’s ridiculous,” I snap. “I don’t catch feelings. I don’t do relationships. I’m the fun guy, the guy everyone likes to be around. No one expects me to settle down, and I’m fine with that.”
“Are you?” she asks, her voice quieter now. “Fine with that?”
I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. Am I fine with it? I’ve always thought so. But now...
“I think this is about more than Harper setting boundaries,” Lila continues. “She’s not like anyone else, is she? She makes you think, makes you feel things you’re not used to feeling. That’s scary, sure, but maybe it’s not a bad thing.”
“You don’t get it,” I say, my voice low. “I’ve spent my whole life keeping people at arm’s length. It’s easier that way. No mess, no risk, no heartbreak.”
“Sometimes the best things in life are messy,” Lila says, her voice almost wistful now. She looks down at her coffee, her fingers tracing the rim of the mug. “And sometimes they sneak up on you when you least expect it.”
I narrow my eyes, sensing a shift in her tone. “What about you? You sound like you’re speaking from experience.”
She shrugs, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe I am. But we’re not talking about me, are we?”
Before I can press her, she takes a sip of her coffee and nods toward me. “Anyway, you’ve got two options: keep running in circles and driving yourself insane, or grow a pair and talk to her. Just be honest for once. I told you before to communicate with her, and look how that turned out?”
"Yeah, a mess. I need to get out of my head."
"Dude, you were kissing my ass you were so excited about being in her good graces again. Stop being so damn stubborn. Talk to her."
I snort, shaking my head. “I’m not sure honesty’s gonna fix this.”
“Won’t know until you try.” Lila raises her mug in a mock toast. “Here’s to Jonah Bellinger, finally figuring his shit out.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, but a reluctant smile tugs at my lips. She might be a pain in my ass, but she’s good for me. Maybe it’s time to stop avoiding what’s right in front of me.