Chapter 7 Jonas
Jonas
“You deserve everything good.” I look deep into her eyes and the urge to protect her rises, settles painfully in my chest. It hurts knowing that she was hurt. Anger flares too over how her family treated her.
The Richfords taught me that family isn’t blood alone. It’s the people who show up, the ones who run toward you offering a helping hand or a hug, or a shoulder when you need it.
“I accepted a long time ago that to them I’ll always be the odd one out in my family. The underachiever. They’ll never see me as successful as or as beautiful as my siblings.”
I stop the swing and gently cup her chin, tipping her face up. “Do you know why I’m always aware of you?” I ask quietly. “Because when you walk into a room you always draw my attention. You’re so beautiful that you’re all I see.”
“You think I’m beautiful? But you hate me.”
I don’t really want to share this but I think she needs to hear it. “You get under my skin. Whatever I’m doing when you show up, I can’t think straight. You came to Raven and Marshall’s summer party last year in a bikini and I stayed hard all day.”
Recalling that hot Saturday under the sun trying not to look at her wakes my cock up, turning the front of my jeans into an uncomfortable pressure.
She bites her lower lip and that sure as hell doesn’t help my body’s reaction. “You always left the room when I arrived.”
“Because I wanted you but pretended I didn’t. I didn’t want you to see my cock bulging.”
“You wanted me? I never noticed because I guess I was too busy dealing with the guy I dated.”
“I didn’t know you dated anyone.” Unease settles in the pit of my stomach.
“It was a blind date set up by my mother. I only went to appease her.”
“Is he out of the picture now?” My jaw tightens.
“Long out.”
My jaw relaxes. “What happened?”
“I went on four dates with him and thought he might be into me, but I overheard him telling a friend that he was only dating me due to my family’s money and because my grandfather is a judge.
He was looking for connections. Anyway, he said I was part of a temporary plan and not the kind of woman a man falls for. ”
“What an asshole.”
She nods. “I know. I was so unhappy back then, but now it’s water under the bridge.”
“What makes you happy? Besides when you see my devastatingly handsome face?”
She laughs as I intended her to. “I’m happy working in the flower shop. I’m happy working on restoring my car. I love muscle cars and classic cars. Anything to do with them.”
“You do?” I had noticed the car she was driving was being restored but didn’t know she was the one doing it.
“Absolutely. Mine was in bad shape when I bought it. There’s something about repairing an old car that doesn’t look like much and turning it into a bad ass beauty.” She grins.
That smile hits me in the center of the chest.
“My entire family from my folks to my grandparents to my aunts and uncles all hate that I work on cars. That’s for “blue collar” people. They love me and I know that, but to them, I’m a pair of overalls in a family of designer gowns and tuxedos.”
“There’s nothing wrong with overalls. They’re durable and protective and on you, I’m betting they’re sexy as hell. You’re the one who has to live your life. Choose what makes you happy and don’t live by the opinions of others.”
“Are you living the life you want? Are you happy?” she asks quietly.
“I am. Compared to where I’ve been my life is damn near perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
“I spent a good chunk of my childhood in a place called The Gentle Children’s Home. It was hell. To this day I have things I can’t tolerate. Like being in a room without a window.”
“I know that Gavin and Frances adopted you and all your brothers from that home and I’m glad.”
“I was adopted twice before them and brought back both times. The adoptions were never legal from what I understand. I got used to being returned like a gift that didn’t fit right.
And it was…” I pause there and realize there are no words to adequately describe what it felt like to be given a brief reprieve from the things that went on at the Home only to be brought back.
She covers my hand with hers and I’m surprised to see her eyes are filling with tears.
“Don’t cry for me, Melody. I have a great life now.”
“I know.” Her lips tremble. “But I have the urge to you.”
She stands and extends her hand to pull me up.
I wrap my arms around her, and she settles her head against my chest, holding on like she never wants to let go.
We stand that way for a while with the moonlight spilling across the yard. I’m surrounded by the sound of crickets and the openness of the land and the scent of the woman in my arms.
Holding her feels like a Honey, I’m home kind of moment and I’m not surprised. In the back of my mind, I think I always knew this was inevitable. That I was coming home to Melody. My heart had been running toward her long before my brain figured that out.
She stirs first, pulling back, looking up at me.
I want her. I’ve always wanted her. That’s physical and easier to handle. But this feeling, this tightness in my chest is unnerving. I became hardened after the second set of pseudo parents returned me to the home and emotions are difficult for me.
And I’m struggling a little now, fighting to the urge to ask Melody to see me as someone worth keeping.
“Jonas?” she whispers, her expression inviting.
Her lips are tempting. And the temptation is stronger than I am.
I kiss her. And it anchors me the way the land anchors me. It’s a cowboy, you belong here like how the wind whispers that when I’m on my horse. When I’m mending a fence or searching for a stray calf. This land is part of my soul and part of my heart. And now so this woman.
I’m elated and scared at the same time. I want to give her everything. A life where she’s always happy. Where she knows she can be herself because I love her exactly as she is.
I’m scared that she won’t feel the same about me.
I kiss her deeply, and she responds in kind. My cock rises to the occasion, but I realize I don’t want to just take her to bed. I want her forever and I fear she’s not there yet. I fear that if I tell her how I feel and ask her to give us a chance at permanency, she’ll balk and run.
“Aunt Melody?” Marianna’s voice calls from inside the house near the front door.
We spring apart, both of us breathing fast and wanting more.
“I should…” She hesitates.
“You should. Now isn’t the time or place, but we’ll get there,” I say.
She nods, gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then darts in to see what Marianna needs.
The battle rages within me in earnest. The one telling me I shouldn’t give in to my emotions. I’m not afraid of getting hit. Of being starved. Of being locked up. I lived too long in a state of flight or fight. While physical shit doesn’t bother me, emotions scare me.
Loving someone and losing them, that’s a whole other level of pain I’m not real interested in feeling.
I’m a grown ass man. Over six feet tall. I’m weathered and worn. My body hard work strong. But when the past creeps into my thoughts, in my mind, I’m a little boy again who just wants somebody to keep him.
My phone rings and I answer Marshall’s call, glad for the reprieve from thoughts that create doubts.
“I talked to the kids earlier but wanted to ask how you’re doing.”
“All is well.”
Marshall knows me better than to believe that lie.
“What’s wrong? Do you need me?”
I know if I said I did, he’d race back to get to me. He’s the kid who stole food for me. Who snuck me a blanket when I didn’t have one. The kid who taught me how to read and the one who always defended me.
When we were at the Home, there was a big bear of an employee who hated me. Marshall would run to him and grab his fist whenever he’d take a swing at me. He’d yell, “No! Hit me instead. Hit me!” And the guy would. And I carry that guilt.
“Jonas?”
“Nah. It’s…” I sigh and tell him the truth.
“Ah,” his voice relaxes. “It’s Melody. I had a feeling things would start to develop if the two of you were stuck together.”
“I don’t think I can tell her what I’m thinking or what’s going on in my heart.”
“Because you’re still stuck in those cars as they pulled into the driveway of the Home to bring you back.”
I tighten my grip on the phone. “That’s not it.” Another lie. Shit. That hurt runs deep I reckon.
“It is,” Marshall says firmly.
“Marshall…”
“I know, brother. But I took a chance and look at my life now. I’ve got a sexy, hot wife and kids. They’re my sunshine after the storm. And you can have the same.”
I think about the bruising risk to my heart if Melody doesn’t want me.
“Jonas,” Marshall’s voice is thick with emotion. “It’s okay. Get out of those cars. Not because you were told to get out this time, but because you chose to leave them. Choose to believe that you can have something good, something lasting.”
I do what I always do when my emotions start to get the best of me. I deflect. “Did you learn that from one of your wife’s romance movies?”
“Saw it on the back of a beer can.”
“What kind of beer is that?”
“The cowboy kind. Manly as fuck.”
I laugh. We shoot the breeze for a few more minutes before finishing the call.
I deflected and joked but what Marshall said makes sense. Maybe I can have something good. Something lasting. Maybe I’m fretting for no reason and I’m assuming the worst. Maybe Melody would say yes to me. There’s only one way to find out.