The Lucky One

Chapter 5

A New Beginning

Emily

Jon’s poetry was a labyrinth of darkness, each word an enchantment down a cryptic path. His little black book was an invitation into his heart.

He had documented every facet of himself on the pages I’d read countless times. His struggles with his family and Kiki, his thoughts when he hurt someone to get what he wanted... His guilt over Paul’s accident. I had been shocked to learn that Jon had caused it. It helped me understand the twisted relationship between them.

I let the pages flip, stopping at an entry from the first day we met, one of my favorites.

She radiates.

A blinding glow shot through with shadow.

I divert my gaze, a necessity.

I have to, for those legs that tread lightly.

For those hands, whose touch ignites me. For those eyes...

So starry I go sightless.

I turn back to the dark.

I would only taint that brightness.

I let my fingers glide over the ink. The pen, it seemed, never lingered on the page for more than a fleeting instant, every letter hastily scribbled. Yet Jon’s words were so achingly sincere that they deepened my love for him. Even though I had to translate the ones that went beyond my vocabulary.

At least I had this book to hold on to. In rehab he had nothing. No words, no pictures—only fading memories of the moments we’d shared.

I closed the book and glanced around the playground, nuzzling my hands in the pockets of Jon’s sweatshirt. I was on a bench across from Tim’s house, whiling away the time until Jon’s return this afternoon. The snow had melted away and the first buds had bravely emerged from their branches. Spring was around the corner, promising a fresh start, a new beginning. But I couldn’t help but wonder, what if that new beginning didn’t include Jon?

Staying sober is a lifelong commitment. You can’t be naive and believe all the stories he told you.

You don’t know how Jon is doing or how he feels now that he’s sober.

He’s going to break your heart. You know that, right?

My whole body shivered. “What if they’re right?” I whispered into the cold breeze.

I grabbed my phone to call the only person who would listen to my doubts about Jon without using it against him.

“Mama?” I said as soon as the call connected.

“Emily!” a deeper voice said. “Wie sch?n! Wir haben so lange nicht mehr gesprochen.” How nice! It’s been forever since we spoke.

“Richard... hi.” My mom’s boyfriend. They’d been together basically ever since she left my father. Probably even before.

He switched to English. “Your mother isn’t here right now. But how are you? Your English must be perfect. I mean, it’s been months!”

“Yeah, it’s good,” I said in English, feeling put on the spot. “Um, how are you?”

“Oh, you know, not living my best life like you, but it works.”

“Yeah...”

I regretted making the call. Apparently he had no idea what was going on with me. A part of me was grateful that Mama hadn’t told him, but another part tensed as if I had traveled back to the depths of winter. Did she keep it from him because she didn’t want him to know how much I’d screwed up?

“Henry and Paul are great people, not at all like I imagined them,” Richard said. “They even knew a little history when I quizzed them. Well, at least about the last century. Not that I expected more. But why am I saying this? You must know what I’m talking about by now.” He laughed.

My fingers clenched into fists. “You have the wrong picture of Americans.”

“I worked in America for years, Emily. I think I have a better idea than you do after a few months.”

No matter what, Richard knew better. I was stupid in his eyes, incapable of doing anything right.

I wanted to retort that he didn’t know everything, that I’d stay here and never go back to Germany because he made me not want to go back. But all that came out was a little gasp. He still held power over me, and I hated it.

“I’ve got to go,” he said. “I’ll let Susanne know you called.”

“Thanks.” I hung up.

Now my anxiety had doubled. I chewed on my lip, thinking back to what Paul had told me about his trip to Germany. He’d enjoyed his time with Mama, Lucas and his girlfriend Kelly, but he had never mentioned Richard—and I hadn’t dared to ask.

I reached into my pocket and retrieved the emergency pack of squares that Natalia had given me. Checking first that I wouldn’t be setting a bad example for any kids playing nearby, I lit up. I hated smoking but at that moment, I couldn’t help it. I had to acknowledge the truth that I wasn’t all stars and light. There was no denying it: escaping to America, I had left my mother on her own.

That’s why that poem of Jon’s was my favorite. For the first time in my life, I felt seen for who I was. I wasn’t pigeonholed into some idealized person everyone expected me to be. Jon saw my imperfections, and they made him like me even more.

The front door opened across the street. Tim had caught me in the act.

“Ah-ah-ah, Little German,” he called, wagging his finger at me.

“I’m nervous, okay?” I crushed out the cigarette, crossed the street and walked up the driveway to the door.

“I know I sound like a super lame dad, but smoking is bad, you know?”

“I know...” I sighed. “I’m planning on quitting.”

Tim opened his arms and I willingly stepped over the threshold into his embrace. Back in Germany I had two so-called “fathers,” but after only a few months in America I’d found two dads who made me feel more comfortable. Tim and I had started spending time together during Jon’s absence. I would come over for dinner and we’d cook together, and he let me visit Jon’s room whenever I wanted. Sometimes we would talk about him. Regardless of his recent mistakes, Tim still saw him as his little boy.

“Well, I’m going to go pick up Jon,” Tim said. “You’ll wait in the basement like we agreed?”

“Yep. Don’t forget, I’ve ‘gone back to Germany.’”

“Ahh, can’t we hide a camera somewhere? His reaction would make a great Christmas card.”

We shared a laugh at our mischievous plan, but my chest suddenly tightened. What if Jon was actually relieved to hear that I was gone?I couldn’t predict his reactions anymore.

“All right. Shouldn’t take longer than thirty minutes. I know he’s going to be excited to see you.” He winked and stepped out the door, shutting it behind him.

“Okay,” I whispered into the dark hallway. Everyone had their own opinions, but ultimately it was Jon’s that mattered.

I made my way down to Jon’s room and collapsed on one of his many couches. Normally time flew by in here... but now, time stood still. The punching bag hung motionless from its hook. Dim light filtered through the windows. Everything was put away neatly, unlike when Jon was here. What if I never got to see his mess again?

I jumped up and searched for ways to occupy myself. Stared at myself in the mirror about twenty times. Adjusted my hair thirty. Fiddled with the hem of his sweatshirt forty.

Paced the room at least fifty times when I finally heard voices drifting in through the open basement door.

“I have to see her!”

I swallowed air like a fish gasping for oxygen.

“I told you, son. She took off and went back to Germany. She said she had no business here anymore,” Tim replied, maintaining his act a bit too convincingly.

“Fuck no!” A door slammed. “I made sure she could stay. If she’s even half as in love with me as I am with her, she wouldn’t think about leaving!”

I sprinted up the stairs—nearly tripping over my feet—and into the hall. “I’m here!”

Jon turned. “Little German...”

“Oh Emily, you just ruined my fun.” Tim laughed, but I didn’t have eyes for him anymore. My dark-haired Jon stood before me, wild curls tumbling around his face, dark chocolate eyes brimming with disbelief and joy. He looked healthier, rosier, like he’d gotten a few peaceful nights’ sleep. His curls had grown longer too, creating a tousled halo that framed his cheeks. There he was... my Jon. My tortured bad boy, lips slightly parted, staring at me.

My eyes welled with tears. “Hi...”

He just kept his gaze fixed on me, as if I wasn’t the picture he’d expected. I rubbed the side of my arm.

“What are you waiting for?” Tim said. “Hug each other!”

He nudged Jon, who flinched before a genuine, radiant smile broke across his face. With two long strides he was with me, palms cupping my tear-stained cheeks with a force that nearly tipped me over. Gently he wiped away the trails of sadness, studying my face up close. “Fuck I missed you,” he breathed.

I whispered, “I’ve missed you too.”

He kissed my forehead and pulled me into his embrace. We clung to each other with desperate fervor, preventing anything from tearing us apart again. I sobbed into his chest, but not with sorrow—I finally felt complete again. After weeks of loneliness and worry, I was where I belonged.

I felt his lips curve into a smile against my skin, which became my new favorite feeling in the world. Then, heedless of his father’s presence, he swung his arm under my legs and lifted me as if I weighed nothing at all. My legs instinctively wrapped around him, and I nuzzled the curve of his neck, inhaling his familiar smoky scent.

The world seemed to fade as he carried me down the stairs into the basement, closing the door with his foot on the way. Tim’s laughter from above was only a distant echo.

Though two never-ending months had passed since Jon last walked through that door, his touch remained the same. Even better. His lips found mine and kissed away the two-month gap between us, each kiss a testament to the desire that had mounted during our time apart. The longing left me dizzy, a whirlwind of emotions I had forgotten how to process.

“Ich habe dich so vermisst,” he groaned between kisses. The same words he had told me upstairs, but this way they penetrated even deeper into my heart. It was undeniable. Everyone else was wrong and I was right—Jon and I belonged together.

“Ich—” I began, but his lips covered mine again. Things had changed. But in the best possible way.

Gently, he laid me down on the fresh bedsheets I had changed and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close. “Apple shampoo,” he breathed onto my neck, sending shivers down my spine.

With a laugh, I breathed in myself, burying my nose in his hair, relishing the earthy scent that was uniquely his. “Smoky charcoal.”

His hand wandered over the curves of my breasts, earning him a low moan, then traced a path down my stomach and slipped beneath the fabric of my shirt.

“You wouldn’t believe how many dreams I’ve had about this moment,” he said, his voice darkening.

I closed my eyes and dived into the sensation of his touch exploring every inch of my belly. Slowly his hand moved up until it slipped under my bra, cupping my breast and reigniting a fiery craving that had been turned off for so long.

“J-Jon, we—” I gasped, struggling to find the words. He straightened up, a mix of emotions dancing in his eyes.

“When I saw you in that cell and couldn’t reach you...” His fingertip was circling my nipple. I closed my eyes again. “It was killing me. But now I can touch you...” He kept circling as his free hand groped for the top of my jeans and unzipped them. “Let me show you how much I’ve missed you, Little German.”

I couldn’t think straight. We had so much to discuss, so many words waiting to be shared—but in that moment they felt insignificant. The electricity between us was a tangible force, connecting us in a way words could never achieve.

I opened my eyes for just a second and admired his smirk, insolent yet adorable. “Show me.”

He leaned in and kissed me, so gently that his lips alone made my hips rise. Smiling against my mouth, he moved his fingers under the waistband of my panties.

I gasped as he touched me. “Oh...”

“Shh... we don’t want Tim to hear us, do we?”

Jon gently pinched my nipple, which didn’t make it any easier to stop myself from whimpering. I shook my head, panting, and he leaned forward to swallow my noises with his mouth. Neither his lips or his fingers moved until I had my breath under control.

“Good, so now when I move my fingers, keep the pleasure inside you,” he breathed, his lips still on mine. “Don’t share it with the world. It’s just you and me, Little German.”

I nodded impatiently, tugging at his shirt to pull him closer. He glided his fingers up and drew them back down, circling, circling—then slowly but surely plunging one finger in.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you so much,” he said in my ear. A second finger, moving faster. “You were all I could think about.”

The combination of his words and the magic of his fingers overtook me with so much pleasure, keeping quiet felt impossible. “Jon, I can’t...”

The door creaked open.

“Kids?” Tim’s voice reverberated down the steps.

“Yeah?” Jon said, unbothered.

My climax surged through me at full speed, making me writhe uncontrollably. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I pulled at the blanket and pressed it to my face as Jon continued moving his fingers, not stopping their relentless rhythm. I tried to push him away but he grabbed my wrist, leaving my chest on fire.

“Enjoy it,” he whispered, adding in another finger when I expected it least. Slipping in and out, fast and easy. Ugh, it felt so good. Too good...

“Ah—”

His mouth pressed against mine.

“I wanted to remind you two of something.” Tim’s voice didn’t keep the waves of ecstasy from rocking through my body.

“Yeah, Dad! What is it?” Jon shouted as I fought to keep the pleasure in.

“I made some rules with Gena. The door has to stay open.”

Why won’t it stop, why won’t it stop...

“Sorry, Dad, I didn’t know!”

I urged Jon’s mouth back onto mine, biting his lip to keep from screaming. Tim’s footsteps receded upstairs, and the waves ebbed. I let go of Jon’s lip and dared one final moan as he smirked at me.

It was over. I was panting like I’d just gone for a run, my legs shaking like crazy, while a huge grin spread on my burning cheeks. I threw a pillow over my face, peeking out briefly to give him an evil glare. “I fucking hate you.” He was back for only a few minutes, and in those minutes I was happier and more excited about life than the last two months combined.

“Hey, I didn’t know about the new rules yet.” Jon winked and stroked my cheeks. “But damn, you climaxed for what... a minute? I guess the fear of getting caught turns you on.”

I smacked the pillow on his face and jumped on top of him. “Your turn then, Mr. Asshole.”