NINE
CHAPTER
Someone was running that damned chainsaw again.
I jerked awake, blinking at the early morning light streaming in from a small window.
It illuminated a bedroom: bed, dresser, nightstand, all plain in a bachelor-pad kind of way.
On the floor next to the bed were my duffel and the small leather backpack that served as my purse.
Outside the door, the whirring continued.
Jonah and his godawful blender.
It took me a blurry minute to put the puzzle pieces together from last night. Memories came to me like scattered photographs: the drummer from Until Tomorrow, our opening act, pawing at me before Jonah knocked him on his ass.
“Do you want to get out of here?”
And I had felt so safe…
I sat up slowly and pushed back the covers to find I was in a T-shirt and sleep shorts. A vague memory swam up: Jonah helping me peel off my leather jeans, helping me change clothes…
I kissed him. Just his neck and ear… But he smelled so good. I tried to pull him to bed and…
“Oh my God.” Mortification ran scarlet over my skin, and I held my aching head in my hands. “No, no, no… Not Jonah. Not him.”
It wasn’t the alcohol. Not entirely. It was the goddamn insatiable need for connection, driving me to find comfort anywhere and any way I could. Jonah took care of me, protected me, and I’d reduced him to the same level as the nameless roadies I took to my bed.
I glanced at the nightstand. A glass of water, two aspirin.
Tears sprang to my eyes.
The clock radio read 7:04. Jonah would be leaving for the hot shop any minute.
I got up, opened the bedroom door and padded into the narrow hallway.
The blender went quiet, and I heard men’s voices talking.
Someone else was here. I shifted on the balls of my feet, frozen.
Part of me begged to slip back to the bedroom and hide, pretend none of this happened.
The other half, sick of hiding behind J?germeister and whiskey, pushed me toward the kitchen.
Jonah looked cleanly handsome in jeans and a pale blue T-shirt.
He took a pill from the Sunday compartment in one of those day-of-the-week medication containers.
The rest of the compartments were crammed full, their lids bulging into domes.
He washed the pill down with what looked like a tall glass of mud and ground up grass.
The grimace that twisted his lips told me the drink didn’t taste any better than it looked.
A gruff cough jolted me from my thoughts.
The hot guy from the photos on the living room wall leaned against the counter, clad in a black T-shirt and jeans.
His muscled arms, inked with tribal tattoos, crossed against a broad chest. His dark hair was cut short, and a thin growth of stubble grew along his jaw.
He was a bulkier, more rugged version of Jonah.
It had to be his brother. But where Jonah’s face was handsome in its open, friendly demeanor, his brother’s was closed down, tense and dark.
His angry gaze darted between Jonah’s medication and me, as if he couldn’t believe the two things could exist in the same space.
The feeling of being a trespasser again twisted my already unsteady stomach, then Jonah turned to me. The smile that broke over his face when he saw me warmed me like a summer sun.
“Um, hi,” I said. “Good morning.”
“Hey.” Jonah caught sight of his brother’s astounded expression and shifted his own quickly back to neutral. “Kacey, this is my brother, Theo. Theo, this is Kacey Dawson. She’s going to be crashing here for a few days.”
“Nice to meet you, Theo.”
Despite his Death Glare from Hell, my instinct was to hug Theo; I was big on hugs. And because he was Jonah’s brother, I immediately felt a sense of affinity for him. But his cold stare pinned me to my spot.
Theo’s eyes raked me up and down, taking in my messy hair, my long T-shirt that covered my shorts and made it look like I wasn’t wearing anything underneath. It was pretty obvious what Theo assumed was happening between his brother and me, and he didn’t like it.
“When did this happen?” He demanded of Jonah, not even bothering to hide the accusatory tone in his voice.
This? I’m a this? I don’t think so, pal.
Before Jonah could reply, I said, “ This happened last night. We got married at one of those drive-thru chapels, didn’t we…Johnny? Jordan?” I snapped my fingers, my face scrunched up in confusion. “Wait, don’t tell me…it’s definitely a J name.”
Jonah smothered a laugh.
Theo glowered but ignored me. “She’s staying here? For how long? When were you going to tell me?”
“Yes, until Tuesday, and I was just about to, but Kacey beat me to it,” Jonah said. “And Jesus, you’re being rude as hell. Even for you.”
The mother of all awkward silences descended on me as the brothers stared each other down and held a private conversation; I could practically hear the thoughts passing between them like words.
Finally, I cleared my throat and pointed toward a grocery bag on the counter surrounded by creamers and sugars. “What’s all this?”
Jonah’s eyes slowly left Theo’s. “I went out and got a few things.”
“That’s thoughtful of you this early in the morning.” I sniffed at the air. “Decaf never smelled so good…”
“That’s because it’s regular.” Jonah pulled a UNLV mug from a cupboard, filled it, and handed it over.
“Thank you.” I moved carefully past Theo. His dislike of me was still emanating off him like heat from a furnace. I took a stool on the other side of the counter, tucking my shirt up a little to prove that I was wearing shorts.
I saw Theo’s gaze land on the sugar skull tattooed on my left thigh. For a brief moment, his expression loosened, grew curious. I started to strike up a conversation about his tattoos, when his Death Glare returned, like a door slamming in my face.
He pushed himself off the counter. “You ready, bro?” he said. “Let’s hit it.”
Jonah finished off his protein shake and tossed the cup in the sink. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he said to me. “So you’re not left stranded for lunch.”
Theo’s eyes widened. “You’re not going to work through lunch?”
“First time for everything,” Jonah replied.
“No, I don’t want to throw off your schedule,” I said. “You have a lot of work to do. I’ll be fine here, really.” I glanced at Theo. “Really.”
“Really,” Theo said, deadpan.
“Really, I’ll be back for lunch,” Jonah said. “If you need anything else, there’s a convenience store up the street, about a ten-minute walk. Give me your cell number, and I’ll call if I’m running late.”
Theo watched darkly as Jonah and I exchanged cell numbers. “You’re still coming to dinner tonight, right?” he said. He looked at me, his lighter brown eyes stony and hard. “We do it every Sunday. Family only.”
Jonah scrubbed his hands over his face. “Jesus Christ, Theo.”
For half a second, Theo looked contrite, then turned to stone again. “I’ll be waiting in the truck.” He strode to the apartment door and shut it hard behind him.
“Nice meeting you,” I said to my coffee cup.
“I’m so sorry. He really has become a pain in the ass since…” Jonah laughed shortly. “Since birth, actually.”
“Does he work with glass too? Is that why he’s going to the shop?”
“No, he’s a tattoo artist.”
“Really? I was thinking about getting another tattoo. Too bad he hates my guts.”
“He doesn’t hate you. He’s just…protective. He helps me out at the shop sometimes. I have an assistant too. Tania. But she’s off on Sundays.”
“So he drove here to pick you up?”
Jonah raked his hand through his hair. “Yeah, we’re… We’re close. And he likes to hang out.”
“So, under all that glowering and barking, he’s a softie.”
Outside, a car horn blared, loud and long.
I burst out laughing.
Jonah laughed too and then a short silence fell. I figured it was now or never if I was going to apologize for last night.
“That was nice of you to let me crash in your bed last night. I was…pretty drunk. Didn’t mean to evict you. Or—”
“You didn’t,” Jonah said. “I don’t sleep in the bed. I haven’t in about four months.”
I blinked. “Um, okay, I’ll bite. Where do you sleep?”
He nodded his head toward the living room area behind me. “In the recliner. My doctor wants me to sleep semi-inclined. For better breathing. It’s not a big deal,” he added quickly.
I frowned. It sounded like a big fucking deal. What would happen if he slept lying down? He’d stop breathing? I couldn’t ask that, so instead I said, “Is that…co mfortable?”
“It’s just another adjustment.”
“Why don’t you buy one of those fancy beds? Where you can raise the head?”
“Not in the budget,” Jonah said, and a sour look contorted his face. He bent forward, hands on the counter, his head hanging between his arms.
My heart jump-started. “Jonah?” Every muscle in my body tensed. “Are you okay?”
“Fine,” he said to the floor, sucking in draughts of air. “Just nauseated.”
“Do you want some water?” I was already off the stool and rummaging his cabinet for a glass. I filled it halfway from the faucet and pressed it into his hand.
He unbent himself and drank a little. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s passed.”
I could smell his aftershave—clean and masculine. The memory of his skin under my mouth made my knees tremble. I slipped back to my stool, cheeks burning.
Jonah took a last, deep breath and set the water aside. “Thanks again.”
“Does that happen a lot?” I asked. “When you take those pills?”
He nodded. “They’re immunosuppressants. They prevent my body from rejecting the heart, but their side-effects aren’t fun.”
I tried to think up something better to say, something comforting, or something funny to make him laugh, but all I could think of was that I was sorry he had to suffer this at all.
From outside, the car horn blared again.
“My brother, the epitome of patience,” Jonah said. “See you in few.”
He was at the door, turning the knob. In another few seconds he’d be gone, and I still had unfinished business. I mustered my courage. “Jonah?”
He stopped, turned. “Yeah?”
“…I’m sorry about last night. ”
He stiffened. “It’s fine. No big deal.”
I wet my lips that had gone dry, and slipped off the stool, moving to stand behind the couch, a barricade.
“No, it is a big deal. To me. I’m really sorry that I tried to…
It’s not a sex thing.” I plucked at a piece of non-existent lint on the upholstery.
“Okay, it’s a little bit of a sex thing.
Who doesn’t like sex, right?” I laughed weakly, then coughed.
“But mostly it’s just the comfort. The afterward.
Being held by a man while I sleep. I’m sure that sounds pathetic but it’s what I like, and I’m sorry I tried to do that to you. You’re more than that.”
Jonah shook his head, his expression pained. “I can’t be more than that, Kacey.”
“No, I meant, you’re a friend. Or maybe we could be friends. If you want. And that’s all I want. Honest, I can’t be with anyone right now even if I wanted to. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m a mess.”
“You’re no more a mess than anyone else,” he said in a low voice.
My chest tightened, pushing tears to my eyes. “Thank you for saying that, even though it doesn’t feel true.”
He smiled, and while it wasn’t the mega-watt smile that lit up his whole face and thrilled me, it was warm and kind. And comforting.
“I really gotta go,” he said. “I’m late.”
“Thanks,” I said as he opened the front door. “For the coffee and letting me stay here. Thanks for all of it. I mean it.”
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I mean it too.”