by Debra Doxer
I laughed again before asking, “Where are all your pictures? You’re supposed to have photos of all your awkward phases so I can make fun of you.”
“You mean like the one at your house of you in overalls and pigtails?”
Huffing out a laugh, surprised by my embarrassment, I said, “I didn’t think you’d noticed that.”
“I was too polite to point it out. Besides, you looked pretty damn adorable in it.”
I rolled my eyes, feeling my cheeks warm like they did every time he paid me a compliment.
“Maybe we can find something on TV you’d like better.” He moved to the couch and sat down before picking up the remote and eyeing me expectantly.
Taking his point, I moved to join him, watching as he flipped through the channels. When he passed ESPN recapping the games from the day, I turned and asked, “Will you miss playing football?”
“I’ll miss the conditioning.” He lifted an arm and put it around my shoulder, pulling me closer. “Now I’ll have to get my lazy ass to the gym if I want to stay looking this good.”
I snorted out a laugh and punched him lightly in the side.
“Oomph,” he grunted. “What? You don’t think I look good?”
Turning my head, I met his eyes. “Fishing for compliments?”
He smirked. “Maybe I’m not as confident as I look.”
Feeling giddy and daring, drunk on his touch, I reached my hand up and brushed my fingers over the shadow of stubble on his cheek. “You always look perfect to me,” I said as I traced my finger along the raised line of his scar.
He stilled, and his eyes closed briefly before finding mine again. “I’m not perfect,” he said softly. “You’re the perfect one.”
His hand came up to cradle my jaw, lifting my face to his for a soft kiss. At first he only feathered his lips over mine. When I expected him to deepen the kiss, he kept it light, holding himself back, but he didn’t stop until we heard a car door close in the driveway.
“Food’s here,” I mumbled.
His lips lingered until the doorbell rang. Then he leaned back slowly, leaving me breathless.
With a small grin, he rubbed his thumb over my lips before standing to open the door. On his way, he felt inside his back pocket before glancing at the side table where his phone and keys sat. Then he mumbled something about leaving his wallet in his room before he walked down the hallway to find it.
When the doorbell rang again, I thought I’d make myself useful. Opening the door, I spotted the delivery guy bouncing on the balls of his feet, his thin red windbreaker no use against the cold.
Jonah appeared at my side, pulling some bills out of his wallet and handing them over before taking the bag that was already giving off delicious smells. Before Jonah closed his wallet, I caught a glimpse of his license inside.
My eyes were still on the wallet when he tossed it onto the side table. Then he carried the food into the kitchen, leaving me alone by the door. My heart raced at what I was thinking. If Jonah wasn’t who he claimed, what did it say on his license, which was sitting right there less than a foot away from me? My gaze bounced from the kitchen doorway back to the wallet. Then impulsively, I snatched it up and slipped it into my front pocket.
Walking toward the kitchen, I looked in and saw Jonah pulling plates down from a cabinet.
“I’m going to wash up first,” I said, my pulse pounding in my ears as the wallet pushed against my thigh.
“It’s down the hall. First door on the left.” He glanced at me as he opened the refrigerator door. “Soda okay?”
My hand hovered over the rectangular-shaped bulge in my pocket. “Sure. Whatever you’ve got.”
With that, I headed for the bathroom, finding it easily and fumbling with the light switch before closing the door behind me. My hands were shaking as I rushed to tug the wallet out of my pocket. It was smooth black leather, slim with a bifold and his license showing through a clear paneled slot. Slipping a finger into the slot, I nudged the license out to get a better look at it. There I saw his name, Jonah C. Bryson, this address, and a birthday that was only a month before mine.
I wondered what the C stood for as I stared at the picture of him with his hair slightly shorter, wearing the smirk I’d come to know. In the money compartment there were some twenties and a few ones. He also had a gas card in his name, but that was it, nothing out of the ordinary. I released a breath, already feeling calmer. His license didn’t really prove anything, but it was something and it was enough for now. I just had to put the wallet back without him noticing.
The Band-Aids on my fingertips made it tough to slip the license into place again. So I stretched the slot open a little more and noticed what looked like an additional pocket behind the one that held his license. This slot was smaller and the opening was on the side with a rough edge, looking as if it had been cut into the leather.
Poking a finger in, I brushed against what felt like another card, but it was squeezed in too tightly to slide out. When I couldn’t get my index finger in far enough, I ripped off the Band-Aid and gripped the card with two fingers, finally able to get a grasp on it.
As I pulled it out, I noticed it looked like another license, but it had been placed inside backward. Turning it over, I sucked in a sharp breath. The picture on it was identical to the picture of Jonah on the other license, but this time the name read Cooper J. Severance with a Boston address, and according to the birth date, he was twenty-two years old.
“Candy?”
Startled, I dropped the wallet and the licenses, watching them scatter across the floor. “Be right there,” I called to Jonah, my heart pounding harshly in my ears as I bent down to pick it all up. After shoving the first license back inside, I moved on to the second one but my hand was shaking too badly to put it back into that small side slot again. Instead, I put it in another free spot, folded the wallet, and jammed it into my pocket.
Maybe it’s a fake ID, I thought, but I knew it wasn’t, not hidden in there like that and not after knowing what my father already suspected. And he’d been right. He was always right, but I didn’t want to listen. The hidden ID was most likely the real one, which meant Jonah was no high school student. Jonah wasn’t even his name.
My stomach rolled violently and it hurt to breathe. Stumbling to the toilet, I leaned over just in time to spill the contents of my stomach. It clenched, pushing up acid and what was left of my lunch.
As I coughed and wiped my mouth, a realization hit me hard and all at once. If my father was right about Jonah not being who he said he was, then he was also right about who locked me in that freezer. Jonah.
I gripped the counter as my skin broke out in a sweat. My gaze skittered around the bathroom as my thoughts crashed in on me, frenzied and chaotic. What was I doing here? Why did Jonah invite me over tonight, and why did he look at me as if I actually meant something to him? Now he was out there waiting for me, and I couldn’t act like I didn’t know this for the rest of the night. I wasn’t that good at pretending, not nearly as good as he was.
I had to get out of here. I had to tell my father.
After rinsing my mouth out with water, I pulled in a deep breath and tried to calm down. I had to get a hold of myself and keep it together until I could get away from here. Catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I saw how pale and shaken I looked. My best bet was to tell Jonah I was sick. Based on my reflection, I could definitely pull that off. Then I could call my father to come get me. It was worth risking my father’s wrath to get myself out of here quickly. If I called Lea, she’d have too many questions about why I was leaving so early.
After washing my hands, I stalled for another minute, standing in front of the closed door before I finally pulled it open. I had just stepped out of the bathroom when Jonah appeared in the hallway, all six foot plus of him, his hazel eyes apprehensive, his broad shoulders blocking the light from the living room behind him.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
I hesi
tated, feeling my palms grow clammy. Placing a hand over my stomach, I said, “Actually, I’m not feeling so great.”
His brow furrowed with concern. “What’s wrong?”
Biting my lip, I shrugged. “It’s a stomach bug. I’ve been feeling off all day, but I didn’t want to cancel our date. Sorry you got all that food and everything, but I don’t think I can eat it. I’ll just call for a ride home.” I reached into my back pocket for my phone.
“Wait.” Jonah took a step in my direction. “You could lie down here for a while if you want.”
I made myself smile. “Thanks, but I should probably go home. I’ll feel better in my own bed. I really am sorry. I feel like such an idiot.”
He studied me, looking confounded by my sudden change. As his eyes held mine, I imagined I saw suspicion and speculation in them. A tremor ran up my spine.
After a long, heavy moment, his gaze finally broke away. “You don’t have to call anyone. I’ll take you home.”
His voiced was flat and emotionless. I hesitated at his offer of a ride, knowing it would be safer to call my father, but I didn’t want to prolong my stay here. It felt like I was seconds from breaking, and all I wanted to do was get home before I fell apart. I didn’t think Jonah would do anything other than take me right home, but I figured some insurance couldn’t hurt.
“Thanks. I’ll let my father know I’m on my way.” Then I pretended to text him while Jonah retrieved our coats.
Glancing around his house one last time, I speculated that there were no pictures because he’d lied about his life. There was no mother who left him, no father who lived with him. He probably lived here alone.
When we walked outside and Jonah unlocked the doors to the Jeep, I noticed it looked different.
“You got a hard top.”
He nodded as he opened the passenger door for me.
I studied him, dumbfounded. He’d gotten a hard top. For me? As part of the charade? I didn’t understand and I didn’t know what to think. Although if he was a professional liar, I supposed no detail escaped him.
Silently, I slid into the seat and Jonah, just as quiet, closed the door behind me. The ride was quick, only a few blocks, and I sensed Jonah’s eyes returning to me the whole time. When he parked in my driveway and I went to get out, he put his hand on my arm. “Candy, wait.”
I pulled in a breath as his fingers skimmed up to my shoulder toward my face, and I didn’t lean away the way I wanted to. Instead I really looked at him, trying to see the true person underneath, but I only saw the boy I knew. He looked almost desperate, as if he was afraid to let me go, not because he had some terrible purpose in mind but because he was afraid of losing me.
To my own shame, I didn’t stop him when he leaned in to kiss me. I let him, because a part of me still wanted it. Despite what I knew about him, my body responded to Jonah the way it always did.
He stopped kissing me long enough to speak softly in my ear. “Talk to me, Candy. Do you really not feel well or is it something else?”
We both knew it was something else. As Jonah pulled back to see my reaction, everything I was feeling and thinking brewed inside me in a volatile mix, and the litany of accusations I wanted to hurl at him got clogged in my throat.
His eyes searched mine, becoming uneasy when I didn’t answer. “Maybe you’re scared of what’s happening between us,” he said, taking a different tack, “but I want you to know that I would never hurt you the way he did. I would never hurt you at all. We can take things slow if that’s what you need, because I want you to trust me. I want you to trust us.”
Trust? Of all the words he could have used right now, he chose that one? How could he be reading me so wrong, thinking I was scared because of what I went through with my ex? Didn’t he realize he made my ex look like a Boy Scout?
My continued silence was unsettling Jonah, and when he saw that talking wasn’t working, he tried to kiss me again. But I was no longer under his spell; my chest burned with betrayal. The pain sliced deep, and the urge to hurt him back was overwhelming. Adrenaline surged through my body, and the moment his mouth made contact with mine, I bit down hard, piercing the skin of his bottom lip.
With a grunt, he jerked back, his eyes wide with disbelief. Blood pooled along the seam of his lips. He brought his fingers to his mouth and when they came away red, shock flooded his face.
Desperate to be away from him, I scrambled backward on the seat. As he opened his mouth to say something, I pushed open the car door, jumped out, and ran into the house without looking back.
***
When I came rushing inside, my father stood up off the couch, alarmed by my abrupt entrance. I tried to catch my breath and keep myself together. It was then that I realized I still had Jonah’s wallet. As I registered the foreign bulk of it in my pocket, panic hit me as I recalled him picking his keys up off the side table where his phone was and where his wallet was supposed to be. Apparently he hadn’t noticed it was gone.
Glancing nervously at the front door, I expected Jonah to come after me, demanding an explanation. But the bell didn’t ring and there was no knock.
Swallowing hard, I looked at my father and pulled the wallet out of my pocket. My hand trembled as I walked into the living room and held it out to him. “I went to Jonah’s house tonight. You were right about him.”
His gaze moved from the wallet to my face and finally to my lips. “You’re hurt.”
My fingers came up to touch my mouth and came away red. Nausea rolled through me. “It’s not my blood.”
Something sparked in his eyes as he reached out to take the wallet. I told him where I’d put the second license and while he examined it, I watched him. His expression never changed as his gaze shifted between the two licenses.
“He’s twenty-two,” I said.
His lips pressed together. “I should have known you wouldn’t listen to me. Would you like to explain that?” he asked, pointing to my mouth.
“I bit him when he kissed me.”
The skin around his eyes grew tight. “Does he know you have his wallet?”
I shook my head. “It was sitting on a table at his house. I didn’t mean to take it. I only planned to look inside, but then I shoved it in my pocket and forgot to put it back.”
“When he realizes you took it—”
“He’ll understand why I acted so strangely.”
“And he’ll know that we know who he is.”
I swallowed, waiting for my father’s tone to change, for him to get angry and tell me how badly I’d messed up. But the change never came. The only hint of emotion was a subtle frown on his face.
Closing his fingers around the wallet, he walked past me.
“What now?” I asked.
Stopping, he turned. “I don’t know, Candy.”
I gripped my hands in front of me. “Do you still think he works for the same people you do?”
“I’m afraid I know exactly who he is now,” he said, holding up the wallet.
My father stayed holed up in his office the rest of the night. I spent a long time sitting on my bed in the dark before I finally changed out of my clothes and pulled on some pajamas, but I never got to sleep, even though I kept trying. I wanted to go away for a little while and forget, but there was no escaping or erasing what I’d discovered tonight.
Since I wasn’t sleeping, I repeatedly checked my phone. Some part of me thought Jonah might text me, although I had no idea what a text from him would say. Seen my wallet? Do I need a rabies shot?
But there was no text. I was both relieved and disappointed, completely confused by the part of me that wanted to hear something from him.
When my father’s office door opened around two in the morning, I rushed out into the hallway and saw him walking into his bedroom. His shirt was rumpled and untucked, and his face was weary.
“Who is he? What do you know about him?”
“Go back to sleep, Candy. We’ll talk in the morning.” He went into his be
droom and closed the door.
Right, sleep. He was out of his mind if he thought I would actually sleep tonight. Instead, I recalled each fact Jonah ever told me. I bet he had no mother who left him, no girlfriend who cheated, no job at Dempsey’s. They were all fabrications, probably meant to make me think we had things in common, and they worked perfectly. My thoughts kept returning to that day at The Butterfly Place. Of all the lies, that was the worst. While I considered it one of the best days of my life, it meant nothing to him. I meant nothing to him. Jonah kept insisting he wasn’t nice, and I wouldn’t believe him. Now I realized it was the only truthful thing he’d ever told me.
Shame and embarrassment had me curling in on myself beneath the covers, struggling not to shed a tear because Jonah wasn’t worth it. Nothing was worth feeling this way. Doubts whispered to me in the dark, telling me I was naive to believe that anyone could really care about me. A person like me didn’t inspire tender feelings in another person. I wasn’t lovable, not that way. I wasn’t even likable most of the time.
On Sunday, my father wanted us to stay home, so we kept inside with the alarm set. The promised talk never came, although I knew it wouldn’t, and I spent most of the day zoned out in front of the television. Down the hall, I could hear the low timbre of my father’s voice coming through his closed office door as he spoke on the phone.
While there were no texts from Jonah, I did receive one from Lea asking why I didn’t need that ride home from Jonah’s house and suggesting my reasons were naughty ones, and another one from Drew asking me to come to his family’s house for dinner next week. I’d completely forgotten about running into him and his mother at the diner. I ignored both texts, uninterested in dealing with anyone.
Even though my father and I stayed in separate rooms all day, I could feel the tension in the house. It was coming to a head, whatever it was. But I wouldn’t ask him any more questions or demand explanations. It never got me anywhere and it just upset us both. As badly as I wanted to know what my father meant when he said he knew exactly who Jonah was, another part of me didn’t want to know. It would only prove how foolish and gullible and unbelievably stupid I’d been. So I would trust my father the way I should have in the first place.
