34. Claire
34
CLAIRE
Jonah falls asleep wrapped around me, and his question echoes in my head.
A question I feel so viscerally it’s like I asked it myself.
What if I don’t deserve to grow back better?
He does.
He does, and so do I.
When I’m sure he won’t awaken, I slide out of his hold and take my phone into the main room. It’s almost midnight in New York, so my call is forwarded to the office answering system. When it beeps, I take a deep breath and leave a message.
“Hi. This is Claire Davis. I was a patient of Dr. Clay’s about a year ago. I was hoping to maybe get back onto her schedule. I, um...well, I’ve relapsed. If you could call me back, I would appreciate it.”
I leave my birthday and phone number, and when I hang up, I feel lighter. I feel like I have a purpose. A plan. I always feel better when I have a plan.
Then, I make a harder decision. I text my brother.
Me
Hey. It’s not an emergency, but I’d like to talk to you when you get a chance.
My phone rings within seconds of hitting send, and my heart starts to race. I want to panic. I want to hit ignore. I answer instead .
“Hey, Macon. I wasn’t expecting you to be awake.”
He laughs. “Yeah, well, Len wants lemonade Italian ice so I’m driving to the gas station. I don’t know if you saw but she’s pregnant.”
“Yeah.” My eyes sting with tears, and I force a swallow. “I saw. Congratulations. Is Gabe excited to be a big brother?”
My brother laughs again. “He’s got no idea what’s going on, honestly. But we’re excited.”
“Oh yeah, well, I guess he’s still pretty young...”
I trail off, and the music from Macon’s car radio floats on the silence. Fleetwood Mac. It causes more tears to well until they’re streaming down my cheeks.
“What’s up, Claire? It’s not like you to call and small talk.”
I blink. Straightforward, but not harsh. He’s right. We don’t small talk. We barely talk at all other than the occasional text, and even then, I’ve exchanged more texts with Lennon than him. I nod and sit up straighter.
“Right. I, um...Well, I have kind of a personal question, I guess. But I understand if it’s not something you want to share with me, so it’s okay if you?—”
“Just ask it. I’m an open book.”
“Right.” I inhale and exhale slowly. “Right. Well. When you got sober...what, um...What made you decide to do it? Was it hard?”
“Getting sober was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but the easiest decision I’ve ever made.”
“What do you mean?”
He goes quiet for a moment, and I wonder if he’ll actually answer, but when he does, it takes my breath away.
“The actual act of getting sober was like being skinned alive. It was a physical, mental, and emotional pain that, at the time, I thought would never end. But I knew that if I didn’t do it, I’d never be someone who deserved Lennon.”
I bite my cheek and wipe my eyes. “You did it for Lennon.”
“Yeah. But for myself, too. I needed to be someone worthy of her even if I didn’t think we’d ever be together.” He pauses briefly, and I hear the car engine and radio cut off. “I couldn’t love myself until I knew I was someone deserving of her love. ”
I have to choke back a sob, the sound breathy and wet. My inhale is shaky.
“What did that feel like? Falling in love with her. How did you know?”
He hums. There’s a tapping sound. His hands on the steering wheel, I realize.
“Falling in love feels like falling to your death.”
“Jesus. Then why do people do it?”
“Because it’s the revival that feels so sweet.”
I can hear the smile in his voice when he responds, and I picture him in my mind. Sitting in his car in the gas station parking lot, smiling softly down at his steering wheel. His curly hair is probably falling into his eyes. He’s probably wearing a USMC shirt and sweats. I know he’s thinking of Lennon. Lennon, Gabe, and the new baby. His little family.
My brother is happy. He’s so happy, and it makes my heart squeeze because I’m happy for him. No jealousy. Nothing toxic. Just happiness.
“I’m glad you found your way back to each other,” I say on a whisper. “I’m sorry for ever keeping you apart. I know I’ve said it before, but I do mean it. I really am so happy for you both.”
There’s a pause. It’s long enough that I have to check my phone to make sure he didn’t hang up. The longer it stretches, the more I worry, and then he sighs.
“I know. I know you are, Claire. And in hindsight, Lennon and I needed that space. A lot of pain came out of it, but so did a lot of good. It’s not...it’s still not okay, you know? But it doesn’t feel as terrible as it once did.”
I shrug even though he can’t see me. “I’m sorry just the same.”
“Is everything okay, Claire? You’ve never asked about my recovery before. You’ve never asked about any of this before.”
Not because I didn’t care , I want to say. Because it wasn’t my place . I swallow down the excuse and force a smile instead, trying my best to sound cheery.
“Yeah. Of course. Everything is fine.”
“Are you in trouble? Do you need anything?”
“No.” I swallow and sit up straighter, hoping like hell I sound more convincing than I feel. “No, I don’t need anything. I was just doing something for work, and I was thinking about it. Thank you for calling me back. I should probably go. I know it’s late by you.”
“Sure...” He hesitates. I hear his car door open and shut. “Hey. I’m here, so I’m going to have to let you go. But I love you, Hairy Clairy. You’ll always be my baby sis, even if...well, I’m always going to love you, okay?”
I press my hand to my mouth and hiccup on a sob. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to catch my breath. I try to hide how hard I’m crying, but I know I fail.
“I love you too, Macon like Bacon.”
It’s not forgiveness. I may never get that. But he doesn’t hate me anymore. I try not to dwell on the hesitation. The sighs. The, it’s still not okay. He doesn’t hate me, and that’s better than I could have hoped for.
I have to wait nearly half an hour before I’ve calmed enough to climb back into bed with Jonah, but the moment my body hits the mattress, he’s pulling me against his chest. I snuggle into him, and he hums.
“You’re here.”
His voice is low and sleepy. His breathing is deep enough that I’m not sure he’s awake. I press my ear to his chest and listen to his steady heartbeat.
Falling in love feels like falling to your death.
It’s the revival that feels so sweet.
I take my hand and place it on my flat stomach. According to my internet search, it’s the size of a sesame seed. One-sixteenth of an inch. So small. So fragile. I listen to Jonah’s heartbeat, and I picture the little sesame seed we created in Madrid.
We’re two disasters, he and I. Two broken, damaged people who’ve made so many mistakes. But this sesame seed? Something tells me it’s not one of them.
Together, we can grow back better. We deserve to grow back better.
The three of us.
It’s the revival that feels so sweet.
I press my lips to Jonah’s chest, then tilt my face up and kiss his throat.
“I’m here,” I whisper against his heart tattoo. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
He kisses me awake.
I twine my arms around his torso and hide my face in his neck.
“I have morning breath.”
He rolls me onto my back, and I wrap my legs around his hips. He presses his erection against me, and I gasp.
“I don’t care about morning breath.”
Jonah presses hot, open-mouthed kisses to my shoulder. My collarbone. My jaw. The whole time pulsing his hard cock against me. When his lips meet mine, all concerns of morning breath are gone. All I can think about is how badly I want him.
I snake my hand between us and into his boxer briefs. When I grasp him, he groans into my mouth and thrusts into my palm.
“I love having your hands on me.”
I squeeze, and he groans again. I stroke him with one hand and use the other to try and push down his underwear. He chuckles.
“In a hurry?”
“Are you feeling better?”
He flexes his hips into my palm. “What do you think?”
“Then yes, I’m in a hurry.”
“Too bad.” He moves down my body slowly, shoving my pajama top up my torso while kissing and nipping at my skin. He traces the hem of my bottoms with his tongue. “Because I’m not.”
Jonah pulls off my pajama bottoms and tosses them to the floor. Then he slides his palms up my thighs, grabs the backs of my knees, and spreads me wide. He stares brazenly at my pussy. He bites his lip, and it’s such a sexy look on him that I whimper. He brings his eyes from between my legs to my face and smirks.
“Jesus.” He shakes his head, dragging his gaze up and down my body. I’m on total display for him, panting and flushed, and he looks ravenous. “Look at you, Trouble. Mmmm, just fucking look at you.”
Without another word, he lies flat on his stomach and covers my pussy with his mouth. I gasp, and he shoves his hands up my body to grip my breasts. He massages them as he sucks on my clit, then tweaks my nipples when he shoves his tongue into me. I moan and try to ride him, but he brings a forearm to my pelvis and holds me down .
“This is my show.” His words rumble against me, his hot breath tickling my sensitive skin. “I’m taking my fucking time. Now sit still.”
I try my best. I swear I do. But the more he works me with his tongue, the more impossible it becomes. I try to fight against his hold; I need to move on him, but he pushes me harder into the mattress. When he releases my breast to shove three fingers into me, I buck and thrash. Then he flicks his tongue against my clit, making me cry out.
“I’m going to come. Let me come,” I beg. “Make me come, and then fuck me.”
He laughs against me, vibrating over my skin, then hooks his fingers inside my pussy and sucks hard on my clit. My entire body contracts with the orgasm. I practically fold in on myself, locking my legs around Jonah’s head. When he doesn’t relent, I grab his hair and pull hard.
“Stop. Stop, please God, stop.”
He laughs again, then mercifully obeys. He drags his wet mouth up my stomach, stopping to bite one of my nipples before he attacks my mouth. I taste myself. I suck on his tongue and lips, and without hesitation, he pushes his cock into my aching pussy.
“Yes,” I gasp into his mouth. “Oh, yes.”
I don’t waste time. I thrust and move with him as he fucks me. He slides his arms beneath mine and cups my face, kissing me deeply. Desperately. My pajama top is bunched under my armpits so our sweat-slicked bodies glide together, and I drag my hands up and down his back. I feel his muscles move as he flexes and bends. His heartbeat pounds so hard against his chest that I can feel it in mine. I sink my fingers into his hair and pull at the root until he groans.
“You’re beautiful,” I say between kisses. “I want to touch every part of your body.”
“It’s yours. You can do whatever you want with it.”
His statement makes my heart squeeze and my breath catch. I don’t know what to say, so I kiss him again and hope that he’s telling the truth. I want it to be the truth. Please let it be the truth.
When Jonah’s close to coming, he pushes his hand between us and rubs my clit, bringing me over the edge with him. My orgasm makes me see stars, and I clutch him like a lifeline while I catch my breath. He kisses my cheeks and forehead. My nose and jaw. He kisses the spot where my shoulder and neck meet, then nuzzles me playfully. I giggle, and when he kisses my lips, we’re both smiling.
He pulls back and makes eye contact, those brilliant blue irises shimmering, and I’m overwhelmed. By him. By these feelings.
I love him.
The realization shocks me at first, and then I want to laugh. I’m relieved and excited. I’m hopeful. I bite my lip and consider telling him. He’s so much more than I thought he was when we first met. He’s layered and complex and more , and I love him.
“Hey, Jonah,” I whisper, my voice shaking with nerves.
“Yeah, Trouble?”
I open my mouth, the confession ready to fall out, when the bedroom door flies open and bangs against the wall. Jonah and I jump and turn toward the doorway. I’m expecting Hammond or José, but my breath is sucked from my lungs when it’s Conrad I see. His expression is disgusted as he drags his eyes over us, and then he laughs.
“Well, I wish I could say I was surprised.”