Feeling overly pampered for the first time in my life, I sat back and took the food Jonas offered. A girl could easily get used to this kind of treatment, especially if this was his definition of aftercare. He fed me a bite before taking a couple himself. After a little fruit, he offered me a sip of water. He next picked up a bowl of fish ceviche, which made me inwardly giggle a little, because on one of our treks, we’d found a couple of lemon and lime trees on the island. They’d instantly made me think of this dish, so once back at the house, I’d made it for him. He’d first scoffed at the idea of cooking fish with the acidity of the juice, so I’d told him to just try it and that if he didn’t like it, I’d make something else just for him. Needless to say, one bite and he was hooked.
He held a bite of fish up to my lips. The opacity of the fish showed it had marinated the proper length of time, and he seemed to have added some vegetables, from where I had no idea, unless he used some of the dehydrated mixes that were still in the pantry.
“I hope I got the combination right. I tried paying close attention to how you made the ceviche last time; although, you used sea bass, and all I had from last night’s catch was grouper.” He watched with anticipation as I opened and bit into the delicate white fish, allowing the taste of the lime juice and the seasonings to explode over my tongue, making me moan in appreciation.
I didn’t chew the piece much but, instead, nearly swallowed it whole; it tasted that good. I wasn’t sure what spice he added, but it was amazing. “This is fantastic. What did you add that’s different?”
He took a bite of the fish and hummed with enthusiasm as he picked up and ate several more bites. My mouth was already watering with anticipation of my next taste, which wasn’t coming quickly enough. “Hey, what about me? I’m hungry over here too. And you never did answer my question.”
I playfully slapped at his arm, before as he offered me another bite. “Sorry, babe. I didn’t expect this to taste as good as yours. I wasn’t sure what spices you used exactly, so I had to guess. I think it was the pinch of garlic salt instead of using regular salt.” He shrugged, and then continued to feed us until the bowl was empty, using some bread to soak up the remaining juice from the fish. Holding up the last bite of bread, he added, “I think we’re going to have to figure out how to make some more of this. We’ve run out of the frozen loaves in the big freezer and in the kitchen. However, we do have some packets of yeast and tons of flour, salt, and sugar.”
I guess it was a good thing that I learned how to cook, courtesy of my mother. I loved to cook as a form of stress relief. I quickly suggested, “I can take care of baking a few loaves of bread later today. My mom and I used to make some when I was still in high school.”
Jonas offered me another drink before moving the tray to the floor. I scooted over and leaned against the headboard where I could get a better look at that tattoos on his arm. I traced my finger over a few of them, before asking, “Are these tattoos the story of your life or memories you want to keep?”
He answered softly with a nod, “Yes. They’re a mixture of both.”
I reached over and traced the anatomical heart tattoo he had right over his own heart. I wasn’t sure why he had this one, but I had a theory. “You’ve laid your heart bare to most people, and to protect yourself, you’ve exposed it only in this form, closing it to everyone else.”
Jonas swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Yes.”
I hadn’t expected the one and two word answers; they were disconcerting. I could tell he was uneasy with my questions, so I offered, “Usually when we expose one side of us, it’s because we’re trying to hide who we really are. I know you’ve shut yourself off to the idea of love, of feeling and caring for others, but you do that every day in your job and with your sister and her family.” I placed my hand atop his tattooed heart, which was so reflective of his tattered one, “You may not think it, but you are a very loving and giving man.”
He shot up in bed. “You’re wrong. I come from a family where my mom didn’t give a damn about us. She walked out on my father, on Robin and me, not looking back and having no contact with us after she left. Hell, we didn’t even know that she’d died until Jackson had Derrick and Rick search for her whereabouts, wanting to see if we could somehow reconnect to get some resolution.”
I opened my mouth to say something, but Jonas continued. He was venting, opening up to me, and this was good. The best way to cleanse the soul is to purge everything you have, releasing it out into the open.
He turned to me, “I’m not a good man, Erica. I couldn’t take seeing my father wither away to a shell of the man I knew. I tried, for Robin’s sake, to stick around long enough for her to be able to take care of herself and him, but I needed out of there.” Jonas’s fist came down hard on the bed. It wasn’t the noise, because there wasn’t much, but the sudden act of aggression startled me. “Who leaves a man who’s given you everything and spent every moment of every day devoted entirely to your happiness? But she left anyway. She didn’t give a damn, not about her husband or about her kids.”
Jonas’s shoulders shook as he let out a few tears. He looked puzzled for a moment as he wiped the moisture from his eyes, and then held his hands out to inspect it. “What the hell is this? Are these tears? I can’t even recall a time that I cried.”
I took one of his hands in mine, giving it a squeeze. “How old were you when she left?”
He shook his head as he thought about the question. He finally answered, “I think I was eleven and my sister seven. Why?”
I got up on my knees, not caring about my nudity, and wrapped my arms around Jonas and just squeezed, wanting to reassure him someone was here for him. “Your mother left at a critical time in life. You were entering adolescence, which is an impressionable time for a child. As the big brother, you probably felt you had to grow up quickly and be like a second father to Robin while your dad tried to move past his failed relationship. Your childhood was ripped from you, and you didn’t get to express your own loss, instead, having to worry about the emotions of two other people. Am I right?”
His arms came up around me, holding me tightly to him as he let loose the emotions that were pent up inside. “Yes. I’ve never admitted this, ever, to anyone, not even Kent, but I hated her for leaving. I went from being able to have fun and play with my friends after school, to needing to make sure I was at Robin’s school in time to walk her home, since Dad was at work. I took over Mom’s duties: making our food, doing the laundry, and cleaning the house.
“Dad had forced himself to get up, go to work, and provide for us. He’d driven us to the grocery store when we’d needed food and to the mall when we’d needed clothes, but it was me that had ended up doing all the work at home. He’d just been a shell of a man, merely existing so we’d be okay, I guess.” Jonas pulled back, looking up to me. “He wouldn’t talk to me, never did explain what happened, only said Mom wasn’t happy, but she sure as hell seemed happy when she left with that man, unless it was all an act.” He paused, reflecting back on his thoughts before adding, “Years later I’d heard, through the town gossip, what town Mom had moved to.”
He held on to me as he laughed. “It’s ironic: she leaves because she doesn’t want a family, but only a couple months later marries the guy she left with, adopted his kids as her own, and then proceeded to have two more children with him.” His laughter quieted as his face become stone. “What was so bad with us that she didn’t want us? Did she not think that would affect us? Hell, my sister ended up in an abusive relationship, barely escaping with her life. I’m only thankful that Jackson was there to help her.”
He leaned against my chest, listening to my heart as I ran my hands up and down his back in reassurance. A few moments later he added, “I should’ve never left them, but my sister was old enough to take over at the house, and I just couldn’t see my father wasting away any longer. I needed to live again. I wanted adventure, so I joined the Marines. I figured if I was goi
ng to be loyal to someone, it might as well be the Marines to defend our country.”
Wow. What words could I possibly say to him? I struggled to find a comment or something but nothing came to mind. I’d never dealt with this kind of situation. The silence didn’t last long as he had more to tell. “I guess my father got his wake-up call after I left for the Marines. He started living in the moment and moving up in his work at the construction company. When I graduated boot camp, Robin and Dad were both there. I almost didn’t recognize him, because he looked happy again, which made me wonder if I was the source of his unhappiness, since I looked more like Mom than I did him. Maybe every time he looked at me, he was reminded of her, and then when I left, he didn’t have to be reminded anymore. But he never would say. I’ve lived my life thinking I was the reason Mom left and the reason Dad was so unhappy, and I had to live with the consequences of my actions when Robin ended up with a psychopath of a boyfriend.”
He was self-deprecating. “You’re not to blame for any of this. Your mom had her reasons—what they were we may never know—but most likely she was unhappy with your father. One of your parents should have sat both you and your sister down and discussed why things happened the way they did. To say nothing was unfair, leading you to believe it was your fault, when it wasn’t.
“You were forced to grow up long before you were supposed to. That was unreasonable of your father to ask so much of you at such a young age. I don’t think he realized his actions until you left, which might have been his wake-up call.”
To my surprise, Jonas didn’t argue, only nodded in agreement, adding, “Maybe you’re right.”
There were no maybes about it. I’m pretty sure if his father were alive today, he’d probably set him straight. As for his mother, I didn’t know her story, but if anyone were to blame, I’d bet my money on her. Maybe the other guy was wealthy, could’ve been a long-lost love, or something else entirely, but what mother walks away and never looks back? That’s just wrong.
I sat back on my haunches, still keeping my hands on Jonas to provide him comfort, to let him know I was still there. “As for your sister, you couldn’t have prevented that. From what I’ve heard from Robin, the guy who treated her badly was an evil twin who murdered the man she was in love with. She had no clue. No one could’ve predicted that. But you got her out of a horrible situation, tried to protect her the best you could, and even worked with your father to save her life. It’s horrible the twin was so delusional, causing her so much misery, but if things hadn’t happened the way they did, she never would’ve met Jackson, and you wouldn’t have your handsome nephews to be an uncle to, someone they can look up to.”
He shook his head, still in denial. Grabbing hold of my arms and pushing me back on the bed, he hovered over me. “Don’t you get it? Everything I’m around gets ruined. That’s why it’s so hard to allow someone into my heart, allow them to know the innermost workings of my soul, because it’s black as night. Anyone who gets close to me either leaves or gets hurt. Just look at my last operative mission in the Marines.”
My brows furrowed. I knew some of the story behind his childhood, because I loved spending time with Robin. When she and Jackson needed a night on the town or some time alone, I would babysit their kids, but first Robin and I always spent time catching up, which always led to stories about her and her brother. What more could this wonderful man have dealt with? I was already questioning how he’d made it this far without so much as a mental breakdown. I thought my life had too many problems, but compared to his, it was a cakewalk.
“You don’t have to go into detail unless you want to, but could you please explain what you’re talking about?” I questioned.
He moved to the side so I could stretch my legs out, before coming back over them and straddling me. He pressed his forehead against mine, “I know they say I’m a hero, that I got some of my team out of there and took out a lot of the rebel fighters in the process, but they don’t tell you at what cost.”
His eyes closed but the movement behind his lids was rapid. I could tell he was reliving everything in his mind. “We’d received intel that some rebel fighters were residing in the outskirts of one of the small towns in the northern reaches of Afghanistan near Kunar and the Pakistan border. There was a shipment of military supplies they’d hijacked and our mission was to check out their defenses, see if we could gain control of the area and take back our weapons.”
Recalling his memories, Jonas started to shiver. “The rebel group was supposed to be about ten miles out of town. Command told us we were safe, but the moment we stepped into town, the villagers surrounded us to praise us for coming to save them.” His muscles bunched, and I could feel the tension run through him. His breath became labored as he continued to talk, “Explosions rocketed all around us. It didn’t matter whether we were military or local; the rebels fired on us with everything they had.
“My group pulled as many people with them as they could and ducked for cover behind anything and everything. I saw several of my men down in the streets. Some were shot clean through, just needing to be dressed but were unable to crawl out of the line of fire, while a few others lay dead, their fatal injuries obvious. There were villagers—the one’s who’d just been praising us—in the street dying or dead, all because we came. I remember going into a blind rage and maneuvering through the town, almost like a robot, shooting anyone with a gun in their hands. I didn’t realize I made it to the outskirts of the town until I heard an explosion rocking the ground and tearing through many of the buildings, demolishing them to rubble. I was caught in a collapse. They all assumed I was dead, but, instead, I was trapped and forced to watch helplessly as the remaining rebels rounded up the villagers and members from my team regardless of whether they were unharmed, harmed, dead, or dying and loaded them onto trucks.”
Jonas shifted his weight to the side, settling himself against me, resting his head over my heart. He seemed to calm a bit, and then continued his riveting description, “I was able to get my second wind and managed to pull myself out of the rubble. My ankle was sprained, and I had cuts and bruises all over my body. I was pretty sure a couple of my ribs were cracked, but I didn’t care. Keeping at a safe distance, I tried to follow the truck by using the forests in the area to shield me from view.
“The surviving members of my team ended up in a prison area. I radioed command to let them know what happened to my unit and our location, but was told to stay put, out of sight, and they’d try to negotiate their release first. If the rebels refused then command would put together a strike team to get the hostages out. The first seventy-two hours was agony, literally; I heard each one of my men get tortured. It didn’t matter if they were already injured or not. They were whipped, caned—you name it. I became so tormented from the screams that I threw up. These were hardened men, who could get shot or break a bone and wouldn’t say a thing, so to hear them yell out in pain…” His face scrunched, and his body winced at the memory.
“It should’ve been me. I failed them. I should’ve either died in the street or been the one suffering. Instead, I was told to move to a new location, ordered to leave my men behind with the promise they’d be saved. But I refused to leave, not without my fellow brothers.” His fists clenched and released, with him finally yelling out, “Over a fucking week! Why did they take so long to get them out of there? Two of my men died, one from infection from his gunshot wound, and the other was beaten to death—the rebels ruptured his spleen and kidney—and what did I get?”
He paused, tears trickling down his face and falling onto my chest. I rested one hand against his head and stroked his hair as I ran my other hand down his arm, trying to soothe him. He took a deep breath in before continuing, “I got picked up in a helicopter, taken to Germany to be checked out and debriefed, and then sent stateside with an honorary discharge and a medal for killing so many rebels, while several of my buddies were taken home in body bags. That’s why I wear this silver bracelet with thei
r names, the date, and the latitude and longitude on it, so I won’t forget, ever.
“Then I got here and found out my sister was hurt and wanted to give up on life, and my father had died, which was now being ruled a homicide. I didn’t know what to live for anymore, not until Derrick and Rick pulled me into their circle and gave me a purpose again. Thanks to them, I now have a closer relationship with Robin, but I still feel like I’ve let everyone down.” Jonas lifted up, looking into my eyes. “I’ve had several men from my unit trying to get in touch with me, but I’m afraid to talk to them, afraid they blame me for practically leading them into a firing squad.”
Wrapping my hands around the back of Jonas’s neck, I pulled him down to me, kissing him with everything that I had. I wanted a part of my soul to spread over to his, to lighten his darkness, to show him he wasn’t alone in this life. He was hesitant at first, but then gave in to the demands my mouth made as I pushed my tongue past his lips and into his mouth, which resulted in our tongues having a dueling match of passion. We separated only long enough for me to tell him, “I’m still here. I don’t have any plans to go anywhere, not unless I’m forced off this island. So understand these words. I. Am. Here. For. You. The past is just that, in the past. You are not responsible for anything that has happened. I’m sure if you talked to Robin and to your former unit, they’d all have positive words to say about you. It’s time to let go, Jonas, time for you to be free to live your life and finally enjoy it, trusting that there is love and happiness to be found. You just have to open your heart to it.”
Opening myself up to Erica was the hardest damn thing I’d ever had to do. I wasn’t on any time constraints like I was during my therapy sessions, and she didn’t stop me to analyze every little thing I talked about, which was a help. Instead, she just listened intently, only questioning things she didn’t understand and offering a different view on the things she did.
Jonas's Redemption: A Standalone Romantic Suspense (Titan Security Book 2) Page 15
