Chapter 23
Taken
Renée
Jonah was none the wiser to my emotional turmoil when we left after the party, and I certainly did not want to acknowledge the stupid mistake I made by kissing him.
I got up from his kitchen floor and schooled my features into a picture-perfect mom determined to give her daughter the best tenth birthday ever.
After her shower, Delta fell asleep as I braided her hair in the living room. Carrying her to bed, as large as she’s grown, made me miss all those times I carried her as an infant and a toddler. When had I stopped carrying her? Why did I ever stop?
Amber and I sit on the couch and catch up on a show to decompress after the girls go down.
The TV is on, but my mind is still back with Jonah.
Surprisingly enough, I don’t focus on the conversation between Jonah and Zoey that I overheard.
Rather, I think about the joy on my girls’ faces as they rode Ginger, their giggles while they fed the ducks and alpaca, their squeals as three different dogs licked them head to toe.
I think of Jonah’s face turning up to carefully watch each of them as they rode his sweet, blind horse.
They way he looked as we fell over each other in the bouncy house, the September sunshine kissing his golden hair, his laugh so big it pulled me into its orbit.
I could replay that moment in slow motion for the rest of my life.
He didn’t have to do any of this today, but he wanted to.
I shouldn’t have kissed him, but I was so wrapped up in the moment that I forgot my inhibitions—I forgot he’s in a relationship with someone else.
I need to apologize and thank him.
I stand up to leave. “I’ll be right back,” I tell Amber. “I forgot something at Jonah’s.” She’s distracted by the TV but nods without looking at me.
I snag a flashlight and slip out of the house. The evening air has cooled and I’ve ditched the jumpsuit for matching lounge wear. Halfway there, I realize I'm not wearing shoes when I step on a twig.
When he opens his front door in only a pair of low-slung gym shorts, he’s surprised to see me. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I say a little breathlessly, and I sort of… forget why I’m here.
In all his shirtless, muscled glory, he stands with his hands in his pockets just… watching me like he has nothing better to do. Like he’d be perfectly content standing here in silence all night.
“You changed your clothes,” he says.
“Yeah,” I say like a fool. I swallow. “It wasn’t terribly comfortable.”
A sad smile pulls at his full lips. “That’s too bad. I liked it. It was fun.”
Fun! I remind myself. That’s what I want to talk about!
“Would you like to come in?” he asks, and gestures for me to do so.
I nod once and step past him, inhaling the scent of sage and citrus wafting off his body. “Thank you.”
He indicates I should follow him to the living room just off the foyer. “Have a seat,” he says, before taking his own in an arm chair.
I sit on the edge of the sofa directly across from him and hold my hands in my lap to keep them from fidgeting. “I just wanted to say thank you for today. Delta thinks of her birthday like the Super Bowl, or… what’s the equivalent in rugby?”
He chuckles. “The Rugby World Cup.”
“Yeah.” I smile. “That. She had the best time today. I’m not quite sure how I’m supposed to match that same level next year, but… I’ll try.”
“We’ll figure something out.” He flashes a sweet and knowing sideways grin and gently stares at me, unblinking. Lord Almighty, his eyes are piercing; they’re as deep as the sea and as bright as the sky.
“But there’s no need to thank me, Renée. I had a great time today.”
There’s a pregnant pause as I struggle to blurt out why I came over. Finally, I release it. “And I’m sorry for kissing you. That wasn’t okay.” I stand, ready to leave. “I’ll see myself out. I’m sure your girlfriend wouldn’t love knowing another woman is alone with you in your home at night.”
He stands. “My what?”
“Your girlfriend,” I reiterate, calmly.
He screws up his face. “I don’t have a girlfriend.”
I level him with a look that says I don’t buy that for a second. “I’ve seen her, Jonah.”
“Have you?” He crosses his arms. “Care to tell me what she looks like? I’m curious.”
I roll my eyes and sigh. “Tall, long blonde hair, a beauty mark on her cheek, a love for oversized T-shirts and buttered toast.”
The man has the gall to still look confused. “Oddly specific. And where did you see her?”
“In your kitchen. The evening we started planning the birthday party, I actually came over a bit early,” I admit.
Embarrassment kicks up in my stomach. “She was standing at the counter eating. Looked like she had just taken a shower. She caught me off guard and I—I didn’t want to intrude, so I went home. ”
“You told me you weren’t feeling well.”
“Not really the point, Jonah.”
“Wow,” he chuckles, which morphs into a full belly laugh.
He struggles to breathe for a while, but I stand firm.
He blows out a long breath and dabs his eyes.
“That was my sister, Ivy. She’s a midwife and was crashing here because she had a long delivery just a few miles away.
She was too tired to drive all the way back home. This… is… rich!”
“But… your SUV was the only one in the driveway.”
“She parked in the garage. She has the code.”
“She wasn’t wearing pants!”
“She never does. She probably had on her tiny spandex shorts.”
My mind whirls back to what he admitted on the porch earlier. “But I heard what you said to Zoey today.”
“Who’s Zoey?”
“Clementine’s mom.”
“Oh, her! What did I say?”
“Th–that,” I stammer. “That you were taken.”
“I mean,” he shrugs and doesn't look a bit sorry about it. “I am.”
Now I’m plain mad and I can’t hold back the frustration in my voice. “Care to explain?”
Jonah closes the distance between us until he’s only a foot away. He might be significantly taller than me but I hold my head high. Those sea and sky eyes lock into mine and his voice is quieter now, lower. “I am taken. I’m taken by three ladies, actually.”
He can’t possibly mean…
“Do I need to spell it out for you, Professor Wilde? Thought I was supposed to be the dumb one.”
“Me?” My voice is so small I’m not confident any sound came out.
But he watches my lips so intensely that he doesn't need to hear my question. He nods. “You.”
My heart is racing and suddenly everything around him blurs. “We’re not together,” I drawl, unsure if I’m reminding myself or him.
“You’re right. We’re not officially together, but I’ve been yours for a long time.”
“I…”
He grins, amused at my inability to speak. “You.”
He smells so good and his skin looks so warm and firm and grabbable. Maybe, just one touch wouldn’t be so bad…
He steps back, my hand frozen midair. I blink.
“You don’t trust me,” he says, matter-of-factly.
“I–I don’t?”
He shakes his head, takes another step away, and folds his hands behind his back. “I don’t want to be meaningless to you. The next time we kiss, I want to know that I’ve earned you.”
The very air I breathe is suddenly sucked out of my lungs. Did he say the next time we kiss? As in he thinks it’s inevitable—that we are inevitable. But he doesn’t know my shadows, my traumas.
I narrow my eyes. “You seem sure of yourself.”
“I might be, but you’re not.” He falls back onto the sofa and pats the cushion next to him. “Come. Tell me things. You’re never gonna trust me until you do.”
I can’t argue with that; I don’t fully trust him.
Before he moved in next door, my fortress was secure, safe.
Strong foundation, steady walls, locked gates.
I never imagined I’d allow another man in like this.
But the walls I built are cracking, and Jonah’s sunlight is bursting through.
For the first time since Greg, my heart aches to open the gates and discover what’s on the other side.
“If I’m gonna sit here, you’re gonna need to put on a shirt.”
He chuckles and returns two minutes later donning a dark teal and white T-shirt that reads "Philly Fathers Sevens Rugby," and under that in a smaller font it says "Who's your daddy?" He’s brought his shepherd along with him and King hops up on the couch to lay between us as if this is a totally normal thing we’re doing. I’ve already covered my legs in a heavy knit blanket, ready to tell what lies beyond my walls.
“Where should we start?” I ask.
“Tell me about your family.”
King’s fur is thick and fluffy and fills in the spaces between my fingers. His breathing is even and I watch his relaxed face while I speak. “You already know my parents were famous in the bluegrass and country music scene.”
“Mhm.”
“I grew up on the road with them, touring all over the country. They were incredible songwriters and musicians. Voices that could pull you in hook, line, and sinker. If I wasn’t on a tour bus, I was in a recording studio or playing in the closest brook looking for creatures.”
“That’s cute.”
“It was. When I got a little bit older, they let me play on stage with them. Just a few shows in the beginning. I guess the crowd went bananas whenever I came on with my mandolin. And then, when I started singing, it was like the floodgates were opened.”
“What do you mean?”
“The more I sang, the stronger I felt. It was like I was feeding the crowd my energy, and they somehow boomeranged it back to me tenfold. I was in love with performing. And it wasn’t even the size of the crowd that mattered.
I could be in a recording studio playing or singing something solo, and just watching the audio engineer or a producer’s jaw drop could give me that same high. ”
A playful grin plays at the corner of his mouth. “I know that feeling well.”
“You do?”
He nods. “I’m in an off-and-on garage band with my brothers.
It’s not even close to the scale you grew up with, but I felt that energy transfer every time we played a gig.
Didn’t matter if it was a cruddy bar, a college party, my friend’s quinceanera.
.. I felt invincible. I still do, even if it’s for an audience of toddlers now. ”
“Your family?”
He hums his acknowledgment happily. “I’m one of five siblings. You know Dane, obviously. But there’s also Angie, Isaiah, and Ivy. Oh, that’s right! You know Ivy,” he chuckles. “My younger sister who is also my girlfriend according to you.”
I bury my face into the nearest pillow. “Stooooooop,” I groan. He yanks it away and immediately throws it at my face, and I giggle. “I’m sorry.”
Jonah settles back against the couch and crosses his arms. The smirk he can’t wipe off betrays his fake outrage.
“There’s also my dad, who you met already.
” I nod, remembering the day Jonah brought Ginger home and my girls went flying over there.
There’s a long pause before he breathes deep.
“And, my mom died when I was three. Car accident.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry,” I reply in a whisper. The words are automatic, but when the meaning truly sinks in, it’s nearly crushing. It’s impossible not to think of myself leaving behind my children like that. “That’s tragic, Jonah. I know you were only three, but do you remember her at all?”
“Not much, but she left these diaries about each of her babies. We didn’t know about them until my dad gave them to us recently. When I read it though, I can see her so clearly. I can feel her warmth—which sounds so crazy to say.”
“No. That’s not crazy.”
Even with a defined jawline and strong features, there’s a softness to his face when he watches me. A moment or two pass in comfortable understanding before a thought etches itself between his eyebrows.
“I remember you saying your dad died, too?”
I nod. “He had a heart attack six years ago.”
“I’m sorry. Were you close?”
A sense of self-loathing tightens around my heart. “Once upon a time. I hadn’t spoken to him for at least four years before that. Haven’t spoken to my mother since then either.”
“Why not?”
My heart races, and for a brief moment, I consider changing the subject.
I swallow the lump in my throat and force myself to tell him the truth.
“My former husband, Greg, convinced me my parents used me for their success. That I was just a pawn in their game and the love they showed me was all an act.”
“Was it?”
“No,” I reply confidently. “But I really did believe him. I know now he was trying to separate me from them, from everyone except him. He wanted me to be totally reliant on him so he could manipulate me however he saw fit.
“When Delta was born, my parents flew in, but Greg refused to let them in the hospital room. After that he filed a restraining order against them and my sister.”
Jonah gapes at me, utterly shocked and unable to speak. “So, the girls have never known their grandparents?”
It hurts to admit, but I shake my head. “He’s been gone for two years, but the shame I feel for being manipulated and staying in that toxic hellscape for so long still eats me alive. I haven’t reached out to my mom; I haven’t tried to bridge the gap or make amends. I’m too scared.”
Sorrow is evident on his face and the silence between us only compounds my hurt. “I’m so sorry,” he says. “That must be a tough thing to navigate. What about Amber? Does she talk to her?”
“She’s in a similar situation. She’s a recovering drug addict, and my parents cut her off financially because she was burning through their money, lying to them, using them.
Right before she moved in with me, she got clean, but she has a lot of shame around the way she treated our parents.
I think she’s been working up the courage to address it with our mom, but it’s hard—for both of us. ”
“So how did you and Amber reconnect? I thought your ex had a restraining order against her too.”