25. Jonah
TWENTY-FIVE
Jonah
12:01 PM
I lie still, watching the way Harper's hair spills across the pillow. I love how it catches the golden afternoon light that filters through the blinds. Her face is peaceful, free of the tension that usually comes with twelve-hour shifts and navigating my mess of a life.
I'm usually that peaceful, carefree guy. It's like I've become someone in a matter of a few days I've fought so hard not to be. I want to get back to that place where everything rolls off of me like water off of a duck's back.
I carefully pull my arm up to look at the time. After that amazing sex, I was out for over an hour. I guess I needed the sleep. And the release I got with her was the perfect preface to that.
I don’t move, afraid to disturb her. For all the times I’ve been in bed with someone, it’s never felt like this—like being here is the only place I want to be. I don’t have to entertain, charm, or deflect. I don’t have to figure out an exit plan or an excuse to be anywhere but here.
After everything that’s been happening—the chaos with Lila, the cops, my parents suddenly wanting to rewrite the past—this slice of heaven and ease is a true bright spot in my hurricane of a life.
This moment is like the eye of the storm. And maybe it’s because she’s here. After all, she’s letting me share this quiet with her.
As soon as I appreciate the fleeting moment of peace, dread returns. It's like my soul is an autoimmune disease, stealing any pleasure I might have and filling me with anxiety.
What in the hell am I doing? I can't keep up this yo-yo of emotions, going from feelings of extreme happiness at the thought of her, to crippling fear of letting her in. This isn't sustainable for me or fair to her.
I slide out of bed carefully and grab my swim trunks from my gym bag in the den. Maybe going for a swim will help me process the jumble of thoughts in my head and help me sort it all out.
The crystal clear water is cool against my skin. The first dive cuts through the lingering haze of sleep. I push off the wall, falling into an easy rhythm, stroke after stroke, the water rushing past me.
It’s been years since I swam like this, but the muscle memory returns like it never left. There’s a comfort in the physicality of it, in the way the world narrows down to nothing but movement and breath.
When I finally stop, my chest heaving, I rest my arms on the edge of the pool and let my head hang. The sound of birds chirping and the faint hum of traffic in the distance fill the quiet.
I think about Harper, about how easily she’s slipped into the spaces I didn’t even know were empty. The way she looks at me—like she sees me, not the version of myself I put on for everyone else is terrifying. And exhilarating. It may be the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time.
Or, it could be my undoing.
Letting her in means risking everything. What happens if I screw it up? What happens if I let her down the way I let Dell down? What happens if she gets to know the man behind the facade and rejects me?
The shame and fear that are the foundation of who I am have shaped everything I do. I've protected myself and those around me by avoiding getting too close. Staying unattached is safer for everyone. Because if I’m not responsible for someone’s happiness, then I can’t let them down.
Dragging Harper into my orbit by letting up on that scares the everliving shit out of me. It’s not just about protecting her. It’s about protecting myself from the possibility of failing her and the guilt of that crushing me. I don’t know if I can take that kind of risk.
I push off the wall and swim another lap. I need the movement of the water, the resistance, to shake loose the doubts clawing at the edges of my mind. The pool was supposed to ease my doubts, clear my head, not double them.
By the time I’ve finished, the sun has shifted higher in the sky and casts dappled shadows across the water. I pull myself out of the pool and sit on the edge with my feet dangling in. The sun-warmed stone around the pool feels good on my ass and grounds me as I catch my breath.
This thing with Harper has me twisted like I've never been. She's not like anyone I’ve ever been with before. Whatever this is, it is not casual. It's not something I can box up and walk away from when it gets too complicated. If I do that again, I know I will lose her in my life forever.
I'm sure at this point we've gone too far, and there's no turning back, anyway. That was sealed when I slept with her at my place not even a week ago and promised her I would do this differently.
Fuck it. No use crying over spilt milk. I need to focus on the future and decide what I do from here, letting the chips fall where they may.
That leaves me with one of two options: Do I stick to what I know—keeping people at a distance, protecting myself and them from the mess of my life—or do I try something different?
Because Harper asked me to let her in. She deserves that. And I promised her I would, and I meant it at the time.
But with everything that’s happening right now—Lila, my parents, the past ripping its way back into the present—I don’t know if I can keep that promise anymore. When we slept together this morning, I was selfish because I needed that connection. But I was already questioning my ability to hold up my end of the bargain. And I know I can't keep doing that to her.
The truth is, as much as I want to live in the moment, as much as I want her to stay and be all of the things I've promised her I would be, the emotional toll is threatening to break me. And I may not be strong enough to weather it all to be the man she deserves.
I decide to check my phone to make sure I'm not being summoned to the hospital. My on-call doesn't officially start until six tonight, but that hasn't stopped them before.
The water still drips from my hair as I pick up my phone. There's a text from Shep.
Got off early. I know you’re off today, so if you're looking for something to do, hit me up. Would love to get in some pickleball at CityWalk. Or are you too chicken to lose again?
I snort, shaking my head. Shep and his relentless need to gloat over his wins.
Harper’s still asleep, and I'm running out of ideas to occupy me and keep me away from my place while also being quiet. She probably needs a few more hours after that night shift.
The thought of sticking around and overthinking every second of the morning isn’t appealing. Besides, I’ve been craving something to burn off the tension that even my swim couldn’t quite dislodge.
I grab my phone and shoot back a reply.
Be ready to lose. Again. See you at City Walk in 30 minutes.
CityWalk BHAM
1:11 PM
The courts are buzzing with energy. Players are lined up for games, and a mix of music and chatter fill the air. It amazes me how full these courts stay.
Shep’s already there, stretching near the net and grinning like he’s been waiting to ambush me. My guess is he sent that same text out to five guys, and I'm the first who bit.
“Finally decided to show up,” he says, tossing me a paddle. “Was starting to think you were scared.”
“Scared of what? You limping through another loss?” I smirk, spinning the paddle in my hand.
“Oh, it’s like that?” He laughs, shaking his head. “We’ll see who’s limping when we’re done.”
We warm up quickly, settling into the familiar rhythm of the game. Pickleball with Shep is always competitive but never serious. It’s the kind of distraction I need—a way to focus on something tangible and immediate, something that doesn’t involve untangling my feelings or questioning every decision I’ve made in the past week.
The ball bounces between us, sharp volleys and quick rallies keeping us both on our toes. I fucking love this game.
Shep’s relentless with his serves, forcing me to dive for a shot or slam the ball just to keep up. My muscles burn, my focus sharpens, and for the first time all day, my mind quiets. It’s just the rhythm of the game—the bounce of the ball, the smack of the paddle, and Shep’s constant shit-talking.
“Thought you said you were ready for this, Bellinger,” he taunts, grinning as I miss a shot by inches.
“Don’t get cocky,” I fire back, retrieving the ball. “This game’s not over yet.”
It’s just a game, a challenge I can sink my teeth into without overthinking anything else. Exactly what I needed.
“Jonah!” Shep’s voice yanks me back just as the ball smacks the court behind me. He’s standing there, paddle in hand, grinning like he’s just won the lottery. “You never miss that shot. What’s up with you?”
“Nothing,” I say, snagging the ball and tossing it back. “Just letting you feel good about yourself.”
“Uh-huh.” He cocks an eyebrow, his grin growing wider. “Let me guess—this has nothing to do with a certain blonde nurse?”
I roll my eyes, resting my paddle under my arm. “Do you ever give it a rest, or is stirring the pot your full-time hobby?”
“It’s a gift,” Shep replies with a shrug. “And you’re an easy target, man. Gimme the deets.”
“I've got your deets right here,” I fire back, stepping into position.
Shep laughs, but I know him well enough to know he won't drop it. The last thing I need is him digging deeper when I’m still trying to sort it out myself.
“Word on the floor is you two have been painting the town red,” he says, laughing. “Are you going to hold out on me?”
I roll my eyes, but the corner of my mouth betrays me with a small smile. “It’s not like that.”
“Sure it’s not.” He lines up a serve, his smirk practically etched into his face. “I’ll bet it’s ‘complicated, ’ right?”
I laugh despite myself, shaking my head. “You don’t know the half of it.”
“Maybe not,” he says, sending the ball flying over the net. “But I do know you, Jonah. And I've never known you to sleep with the same girl twice, so I think that means it’s serious. You're a smart guy—you don't stick around for anything unless it's worth it.”
Shep, as usual, is oversimplifying things. But he’s not entirely wrong. I have put in more time on this than anyone else. That has to mean something.
By the time we wrap up, the sun has dipped low, and the lights around the court buzz to life. Shep claps me on the back, talking about grabbing a beer, but my head’s still stuck on what he said: stick around for something that’s worth it.
“You know what, man, I think I’ll pass. I’ve got some things I need to take care of.”
I came here to clear my head, and it worked—for a while. But now, walking off the court, without realizing it, I think Shep gave me the exact advice I needed.