Chapter 29
Truth and Trauma
Jonah
Both girls fell asleep on the ride home.
Renée and I twirled our fingers and spoke softly about safe topics like her job.
I talked about my siblings and rugby. But when I pulled into her driveway, neither of us wanted the night to end.
I had the most amazing date and I think she did too, judging by her near-constant smile that she doesn’t easily give away.
I was floating on could nine when she leaned into me earlier. I felt like I could climb a mountain or bench-press the sun. I’ve never done hard drugs, but I’m sure this is what it feels like.
“Are we home?” Delta murmurs, and rubs her eyes.
“Yes, sweetie,” Renée replies. “Wake your sister up and go inside. I’ll be right there.”
Both girls lazily hop out of the SUV and wave back before tapping the door code and entering their house.
“Come over in thirty minutes after the girls go down. We can talk in the back a little longer, if that’s okay?”
I kiss her hand and play with her painted nails. “Of course. I gotta check on the animals anyway. I’ll be right back.”
After I let the dogs out and everyone’s settled in their respective beds for the night and given a truckload of lovin’, I cross the yard to Renée’s and wait for her in a chair.
Crickets are chirping when she slips out a couple minutes later wearing the same denim dress and suede boots as before, but she’s thrown on a long cardigan that she pulls tight around herself.
I’m already taking off my barn jacket. “Are you warm enough?”
She declines me gracefully. “Yes, Jonah. But thank you.” She takes the other chair right next to me. “I wanted to thank you. Today was quite possibly one of the best days I’ve ever had.”
Cartoon hearts flutter from my eyes and circle my head. “You mean it?”
“I really do.” Her smile is soft, and I have the overwhelming urge to expose as much of that softness as I can.
All day she’s let her guard down and it looks good on her—better than the evening gown I bought her for my brother’s wedding.
Better than the sparkly jumpsuit. She takes my hand in hers.
“It’s been a long time since someone made me feel that special, and I didn’t think I’d ever feel that again. I didn’t want to.”
“I know you probably only told me the tip of the iceberg about your ex and how he treated you, and I hope some day you can tell me more, but I would never do that to you. I–I don’t know how you’ll ever believe me, but, if you’ll allow it, every chance I get I'm gonna keep showing up and proving it to you.”
She studies me for a long time. Probably longer than I ever studied for her class. “I do believe you’re a wholly different man than my ex-husband. Outside of the rugby field, I don’t think you have an aggressive bone in your body.”
“I don’t! I accidentally bumped my knee into King a little bit ago and I about died of guilt.”
She nods and continues. “But that doesn’t guarantee I will always think you’re safe.
Trauma’s a bitch like that. I only say this because if we do this,” she says, squeezing my hand a little tighter, “your sunshine and four-leaf clovers are not always gonna work on me. For a very long time, my body was trained to distrust. I want you to think about what that might look like down the line.”
Renée is right—I do need to think about what it would mean to be with someone who might need more emotional support than most. The road that led me here has been long and eye-opening, and I’ve learned so much about her and myself.
Like how crazy-good it can feel to be steady and reliable.
I never fully understood the weight of everyone’s disappointment in me until I started to change.
Now the thought of slipping back into who I was before three freckle-faced ladies moved in next door makes unease tumble in my gut like a shoe in a dryer.
“I will think about that,” I say. I gesture between us and rub my thumb over the back of her hand. “But if we can always speak like this, then I bet we can work through anything.” She hums a contented sigh. “What else do you need to be certain of?”
“There... is something I’ve never been able to figure out about you and it’s been eating me alive. I didn’t want to ask at first because well, it’s not something you should ask people you barely know.”
Oh gosh, she’s gonna ask me. I’ve been preparing for this and it’s finally time!
She hesitates. “I need to know... Where does your money come from? There’s no way in hell you made that from lap dances.”
I bring a hand to my chest. “Rude. My lap dances are top-tier.”
Renée rolls her eyes. “I know they are, but no one makes that kind of money”—she gestures to my house—“working at a strip club slash hair salon.”
“I’m curious,” I start, and the corner of my mouth curls. “If you had to guess, where do you think my money comes from?”
“So help me Jonah, if you’re some social media influencer—”
I chuckle, “No, but my brother’s husband and wife are.”
“At one point I thought maybe it was family money,” she says. “But the more time I spend with you, well... you don’t exactly carry yourself like someone raised with a lot of money.”
Fair.
She tilts her head like she’s weighing options. “Pretty privilege, yes. Money, no.”
“Alright,” I grumble, but my tone is teasing.
“Point taken. You’re right, I don’t come from money and I didn’t earn all my money from stripping.
” I swallow, suddenly nervous. I want to tell her and have for a long time now.
But the constant reminders from my family and lawyers to not tell anyone nips at me.
No, I trust her. She deserves to know.
“I won the Pennsylvania lottery earlier this year.”
The hand holding mine goes limp and her shapely brows drop. “Be serious, Jonah.”
“I am.”
She rips her hand away and tucks both under her arms. “Y’know, I really didn’t peg you for a liar.”
Suddenly there’s a swarm of invisible bees trapped beneath my skin.
“I’m not! I really did win the lottery!” My hands fumble with my phone as I pull it out of my coat pocket.
“I won $540 million dollars. Well, after taxes it was more like $397 million. I had to create an LLC to claim the winnings anonymously and hire a financial advisor and attorney who claimed the money on behalf of the LLC.”
She still doesn’t look like she believes me. “What’s the name of the LLC?”
“LLAN Trust.” I tap Raf’s contact in my phone.
Her face screws up. “What does LLAN stand for?”
I smile. “Long Live Agony Nectar.”
My brother-in-law finally answers the call. “Hey man.”
“How much money did I win?”
He chuckles, “That’s one way to start a conversation. After taxes... would have been something like $400 million. Maybe less.” Renée’s eyes go wide as reality strikes her like a bolt of lighting. “Did you forget?” he laughs.
“No, I just needed Renée to hear you say that.”
His laughter dies. “Wait—”
I hang up and switch the phone to silent. “That was my brother-in-law,” I explain to the frozen woman before me. “Only my immediate family and closest friends know about this.”
“So you... bought this place,” she says with a pointed finger, “because?”
I shrug. “I had the money and my dogs were pretty cramped in my west Philly townhouse.”
Her humorless laugh is adorable. “You bought a farm for your dogs?”
“Kinda, yeah.”
“Okay,” she breathes. “This is going to sound blunt, and I’m sorry but, what are you doing with your life?”
A quiet curve tugs at my lips. “Trying to make you a part of it.”
She bites back a smile and slowly shakes her head—the way you do when the punch line is you. “I mean, what are your career aspirations? Obviously you don’t need to work, but...”
“Well, I’m going to play rugby as long as I can.
I donated a bunch of money to the team for a new training facility and to maintain the neighborhood around it.
Other than that, I haven’t really decided what I want to do yet.
I have to do something though. It feels weird keeping all this locked away.
I’d like to do something meaningful with the money and my time. Like an animal sanctuary!”
“I think you have enough for several hundred animal sanctuaries.”
“If you have any suggestions, I’m all ears.”
“You really haven’t told anyone about your money?”
I shake my head. “I was told I couldn’t say anything because people might take advantage of me.”
She looks away for a moment like she’s agreeing people would take advantage of me. “This is blowing my mind,” she says.
“Are you mad I didn’t tell you?”
She exhales long and hard, no less setting me at ease. “Now that I know, I’m not mad. I understand why you couldn’t.”
Relief rolls through me like a warm tide, sweeping away my fear.
“Thank you for telling me,” she says.
My heart takes the driver’s seat and I hop out of my chair, kneel in front of her, and take both of her hands in mine.
“Renée, what we have together is already more than I’ve ever had.
I’ve never felt this connected to someone.
And your girls, my God...” I groan. “I swear I’m not just saying this because I’m over-the-moon for you, but your girls are amazing.
They’re so smart and fun and creative! Like, legit, I wanna hang out with them all the time. ”
She laughs quietly.
“Whatever this is between us,” I say, before kissing her fingers, “I’ll take it at whatever pace you need. I know I’m not the brightest knife in the toolbox, but I have enough sense to know you need control.”
She’s eyeing me like she’s torn between saying more and asking for a repeat of the night we reconnected. “I do Jonah.” Her voice drops to a hushed seriousness. “He took so much from me.”
“I know.”
“I’m done having my voice taken away.”
I dip my head in agreement. “I would never. I wanna know what you think day in and day out. I wanna hear you speak because your voice...” I trail off trying to collect the right description.
“Your voice is like that hum you get in your chest when you hear a live orchestra. Like when the music starts low and the crescendo is long. It’s gentle but.
.. you’ve never felt so alive and hopeful. ”
Tears well in her eyes and she blinks them away like they’ve offended her.
“Renée,” I murmur. “I’d very much like to take care of you, and that might be hard to accept given your past, I know. But I’ll never tell you what to do. I just want you to be happy.”
“Me too.”
The air shifts between us, quiet and heavy, and it’s weird and natural all at once. “Is there anything I can do to make you happy?”
The gravity of my question hits her eyes first, and they darken. Control moves like a current, unseen yet undeniable, and it comfortably settles between us.
“I like to be in control,” she warns. “Not just in my life, but in the bedroom, too.”
Desire moves through me like a storm front—charged air, a clash of warm and cold that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “I’m so good with that.”
She seems pleased and my balls tighten as I brace for her reply.
“I had a feeling you would be.” Renée removes both of her hands from mine and places one index finger under my chin and blood rushes to my groin.
“I’m going to tell you to do something in a moment, and I want you to know you can say no.
I want to control you Jonah, but the most important thing is your consent. ”
“Yes, Professor.” She inhales sharply and shuts her eyes. “Was that okay?”
She nods quickly and mutters a curse I don’t quite hear. “Yes. In fact, I quite like that,” she says breathlessly. Her lusty gaze hones in on me once again. “You kneel so well for me. Such a good boy. Now get lower and kiss my feet.”
Have I ever done this before? Nope. But it’s suddenly the most erotic thing I’ve ever heard, and my body reacts accordingly.
Knees scraping on the concrete, I shimmy back and lower my upper body.
She’s still wearing her tall suede boots and when I try to remove one, she stops me.
“Boots stay on. You haven’t earned my skin. ”
I lower myself once again and nuzzle the top of her shoe and ankle. “Sorry, Professor. I’ll do better.” I frantically kiss every inch. “Please don’t fail me.” My fingers trace the boots’ curves, and the suede is soft and warm beneath my lips.
“You think you can just take me out and spend money on me?” she asks cooly, but there’s heat in her meaning. “You think that’s going to save your grade?”
“No, Professor Wilde,” I say into the leather, but it comes out far too quick.
“Do you think I haven’t noticed how desperate you are? You’re like a puppy begging for attention.”
The idea of her leashing me causes my dick to surge. “I’m sorry,” I murmur again. “I really like you and I wanna do good. Please don’t fail me. I’ll do whatever you want.”
“And what do you want?”
I don’t stop kissing her feet when I speak, and I don’t hide the truth. “I wanna take you out again and spend every last dime on you. I wanna be available for your every whim. I want you to use me.”
“Get up and look at me,” she commands, and I obey.
My God, it feels good to obey her.
“I do not want your money,” she says, measured and deliberate. But when my brows furrow, her demeanor softens. “Oh no,” she drawls. “Don’t give me those sad boy eyes.”
“But I want to spoil you,” I whine, like a man.
A delicate smile touches her face. “You already do. The way you treat me and my daughters...” She sighs happily. “I feel rich.”
“Please let me take you out again. Please.”
Once again her finger finds my chin and she pulls me into a long, drugging kiss. It’s the kind of kiss your heart custom designs just so you can look back in your memories and die a sweet death.
“Okay,” she whispers. “You can take me out again.”