Unwritten Rules

by M.A. Stacie

  “Yeah,” he confirmed, nodding his head. “Quinn was the only person I gave a shit about. He was the cutest kid ever, always smiling and laughing. There were days when he’d be the only member of my family that I’d interact with.”

  “He’s a lot younger than you?”

  “Twelve years.”

  “You were close to him? That’s why you used his name when you changed yours?”

  Jonah cringed. His face contorting in pain, but when I tried to touch him he recoiled. “His name is my constant reminder.”

  “Jonah, what did you do?”

  His Adam’s apple bobbed and his grip tightened on the arm of the couch. I fleetingly wondered if he was going to fob me off again, then he spoke. “I’d been drinking.

  Heavily. Mom and Tom decided I needed an intervention.

  At seventeen, I found that laughable. I came home juiced to find my family waiting for me in the living room. I freaked, started yelling and breaking stuff, but when I tried to leave, Tom grabbed my arm and hauled me back inside.” He took a moment, my sense of foreboding growing stronger. “The front door was left open. No one noticed.”

  I reached out, entwining my fingers with his, and offered him what little encouragement I could. It was as if he didn’t feel me though. He had zoned out, lost in the memory of that day. When his voice became a shaky whisper, I knew we were getting to the pivotal point of his past.

  “My parents tried, but after about thirty minutes I couldn’t hack their concern anymore. I took Tom’s car keys off the table and ran out of the house. The neighbors had come out to rubberneck, but I wasn’t thinking. I was drunk and full of rage.”

  His fingers tightened around mine. His next words were expelled with a great rush of air. “I backed out of the drive without even looking. Quinn was playing... ”

  “Oh no! Oh God, Jonah.”

  Tears sprang from my eyes, even though I tried I couldn’t stop them. He reached up, swiping away a tear with his thumb as I tried to calm the tremors wracking my body. Jonah nodded slowly and finished his heartbreaking story.

  “I fractured his spine, and he’s spent every day since then in a wheelchair. That’s how I took his future away, Elle. That’s why I left home. I’m no better than a murderer.”

  I blinked, shocked at his comparison. Did he really think he was a murderer?

  “It was an accident!” I exclaimed.

  “I was drunk, and I wasn’t paying attention. It was my fault. I put him in that chair. Don’t make excuses for me.”

  He pulled away from me, stood up, and began pace the floor. The muscles on his back were tense; the ink rippling with his movement. I tried to digest everything he had told me, as I fought a fog of denial. I couldn’t reconcile the old Jonah with the one I knew. He was no longer Benjamin Samuels. It was obvious, however, that he wouldn’t be the person I presently knew had the incident not happened. My mind spun out of control as I processed the situation that had lead Jonah to me. As reality set in, I became light headed.

  “Is Quinn in a w-wheelchair permanently?”

  “Yes. His injuries are that severe. His spine is fractured at T-9, so he can use his arms and torso, but he has no use of his legs at all.”

  “Ever?” I asked breathlessly.

  “Ever.”

  He was rubbing his chest again, over his heart as if it hurt. I wanted to reach out and hug him, but I had the distinct impression that any comfort from me would be rejected. Jonah was used to his bubble of self-torture. He believed he deserved this kind of isolation.

  “Do your parents blame you? Is that when they made you leave?”

  “Elle, did you hear what I just told you? Why are you still sitting there?”

  His voice cracked and he turned, placing his hands on the wall and dropping his head between his shoulders. Agony bled from every pore, years of pain laid out in front of me. He was waiting for me to stomp all over him. I hadn’t processed what I was going to do but knew I couldn’t hurt him any further.

  I stood up, walked over to him, and laid my palm flat in the center of his shoulder blades. He moaned a protest but didn’t move away from me.

  “The money you send? It’s for your brother?”

  “You should leave. You need to think about what the hell I just told you,” he snarled.

  “No. That’s what you expect me to do. You want me to hate you for what you did and walk away. I won’t. I can’t,” I replied, my voice pleading.

  I fought the urge to wrap my arms around his waist, certain he wouldn’t allow it. I kept my hand on his back; his chest rose and fell rapidly. His skin was cold.

  “Is this what you told that person five years ago?” I asked, processing his confession.

  To my surprise, he hummed in confirmation. When he spoke, it so quiet that I could barely hear, “You think there are more skeletons in my closet? Is this not big enough for you?”

  “Jonah, I-”

  He spun, his blue eyes hard chips of stone as they pierced into my very soul. “Yes, this is what I told her, and right about now is when she left. So, go ahead, you know where the door is.”

  I reached out, cupped his face in my hands, and kissed him fiercely. I captured his gasp of surprise and moved into his arms. His hands skimmed my back as his tongue dipped into my mouth. It was hot and needy as if he was pouring every ounce of anger into the kiss. His teeth skimmed my lower lip. When his fingers flexed on my hips, I knew he was holding back. I whimpered against his tongue, pushing my hands into the back pockets of his jeans, hoping it would chip away at his wall of self-hate. When he backed me up into the nearest wall and took the lead, I knew I was winning.

  I let his need consume me. I could smell him, feel him. Even though I knew it wasn’t the best idea, I wanted him. Every ounce of commonsense disappeared. I squeezed his ass through his jeans in encouragement. His fingers laced into my hair and twisted my head to the side, deepening the kiss. He thrust his tongue into my mouth and hummed. The sound reverberated through my body, making my nipples harden. My thighs clenched. His full lips roamed over mine roughly as he ran his fingers through my hair.

  I felt him push his jean clad thigh between my legs, and he rubbed against my core. Jonah chuckled against my lips when I began to grind against his knee. My fingers trailed lightly down his chest, feeling the ripple of his muscles and the dip of his navel. His skin was satin smooth with a sprinkling of hair that disappeared underneath the waistband of his jeans. I raked my nails across his stomach, making him gasp.

  “Red,” he rumbled.

  His lips were swollen from the force of our kisses.

  I tried not to think about licking them, sucking them. I needed to gain some control back. This kiss was only meant to put a chink in his resolve, but I had been stupid. I hadn’t factored in how my body would respond to his kiss, to his touch.

  I looked up into his eyes and became weak kneed by the lust I saw oozing from them.

  “Red, I need you.”

  “Oh, Jonah,” I sighed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  His brows drew together, creating those little creases on his forehead. “Do you want me? I need to know that,” his voice broke, “that someone wants me.”

  My arms engulfed him in a tight embrace. He had been bleeding on the inside for far too many years. He had been alone. I wouldn’t let him go solo any longer.

  I cradled his head, feeling his tears trickled from his eyes onto my shoulder. I let him weep, showing him that he could cry in front of me, and that I would still be here when he was done. I soothed him, stroking his hair and rubbing his back until he gained control of his emotions.

  “I’m just so tired of hurting, Elle,” he muttered into my neck.

  I teased his hair between my fingers, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. “I know, but you don’t have to. It was an accident. It was a series of bad choices you made as a child. I don’t hate you for this.”

  “Please stop the pain,” he begged, nuzzling my throat.
“You always make me feel good.”

  It was clear what he meant. He could forget his problems when we were intimate. He needed that diversion.

  I lifted his head, meeting his eyes, wanting him to understand. “I’m here for you, but sex isn’t the answer. If you really thought that, you would have been sleeping around for years, but you haven’t been. Have you?”

  “No,” he breathed.

  “We need to work through this. This has gone unresolved for so long that it’s festering away at your insides. You need to deal with it Jonah. And I mean more than sending a check every month.”

  My chest tightened at the sadness in his eyes.

  Jonah was utterly defeated, at his lowest. While our bodies screamed for the heat and pleasure of the bond we shared when we were intimate, I knew it couldn’t happen. Jonah had to resolved his problems. With a heavy heart, I accepted that a relationship would only complicate things worse for him. For us.

  This was a mess. Trust me to get involved with someone who was an emotional wreck. I could hear J.J. now… out of all the men in New York, Elle just had to latch on to this one.

  “There’s nothing to deal with,” he affirmed. “I’m alone because of my actions.”

  “But-”

  “No buts,” he interrupted, shaking his head as he tried to pull away.

  I held him, watching the mental struggle flit across his face, before he gave in and hugged me. I listened to him breathe, replaying the events of the night as he took comfort in my embrace. I was in deep; there was no point in trying to claw my way to the surface. He didn’t frighten me when plenty of others would have been. Jonah needed resolution. He needed to take a step forward; a step that would start his life.

  “Come on,” I whispered, leading him over to his bedroom. “You need to rest. It’s been a very long night.”

  “Elle, will you stay with me? Please? I have to know you don’t hate me.”

  “I don’t hate you, Jonah. Now, lie down.”

  He crawled up onto the bed, not bothering to remove his jeans, and patted the space next to him.

  “Please? You need to rest too.”

  “I’m not having sex with you,” I reiterated, climbing into bed next to him as he chuckled.

  “I know. I just want to revel in the fact that you didn’t run away once I confessed what I’d done.”

  I rested my head on the pillow, inhaling a scent that was pure Jonah and told him to sleep. “We can talk about this tomorrow,” I added. “And we will.”

  He gave a small nod, before closing his eyes and eventually drifting off to sleep. I didn’t find it that easy. I laid there staring at the ceiling, processing every detail of what he’d confessed. There were still things he hadn’t explained.

  As much as it pained him, I would need all of the answers before we could begin to move on.

  I was most concerned about the deep hate he held for himself. After so many years of self-loathing, it would take a lot for him to ever believe he was worthy of care and affection. It would be an uphill battle.

  I shifted onto my side, taking in his sleeping form, and considered what I’d just opened my heart up to.

  I was somewhat disorientated when I woke. Then I felt a gentle, steady breath skim my cheek, and a hot, hard body bracing me from behind. I closed my eyes, enjoying the feel of waking up next to Jonah. By the sound of his breathing, I could tell he was still asleep, and I tried to gently twist around. His arm came around my waist, holding me next to his body.

  “Morning,” I smiled, my voice husky.

  His hand slipped up my ribcage, underneath my top; his fingers tickling the underside of my breast. I arched my back, pushing my breast into his hand. At the same time, I felt his eagerness press through his sweats against my spine. His lips touched the shell of my ear, caressing it as he spoke. I felt the vibrations down to my toes.

  “Good Morning, Red.”

  “I love it when you call me that,” I exhaled in contentment.

  “You must get it all the time,” he chuckled, flicking the pad of his thumb across my pert nipple.

  “Someone tried once. They never repeated it.”

  Jonah snorted then pushed on my shoulder, turning me to face him. He looked happy and well rested, something I hoped to see more of. The grin suited him, especially when it was large enough to make his cute little dimples appear at the corner of his lips.

  “But you don’t want me to stop calling you that?

  I’m honored.”

  I kissed the tip of his nose, feeling his pinkie finger link into mine. “I love it when you do that too.”

  “Really?” He lifted our joined fingers so we were both staring at them as they rested between our chests. His eyes darkened with sadness as he kissed my knuckles. “It was our thing... ”

  My brows knitted together.

  “Quinn and I. Instead of kisses – because guys don’t kiss – we would pinkie hug. I miss it, and for some bizarre reason, I subconsciously started to do it with you.

  How odd is that?”

  “It’s sweet, personal.”

  He gave a small nod, still looking at our hands. I could tell he was miles away, thinking about his brother along with everything that had happened since that day; the day that had changed everything for him. It was apparent no one had forgiven him for his childish mistakes, just as Jonah had yet to forgive himself. I felt useless in my comfort. All I could offer was a hug, kiss, or a shoulder to cry on, not that Jonah did much crying. That would be the hardest part of all.

  “Let’s do something today,” I declared, trying to bring him out of his own thoughts.

  A solitary brow rose as he licked his lower lip.

  “Like?”

  I shrugged. “I just want to see you smile.”

  “You make me smile. Just having you here makes everything seem a bit better.” He closed his eyes, nuzzling my knuckles and taking a deep breath.

  “Jonah, I’ll do what I can to help you. I can’t help myself anymore; I care about you.”

  His eyes shot open; his pupils dilating as they tried to zone in on me. I didn’t like the coldness of his expression. He frowned at me, and recoiled when I reached out to touch his face.

  “Jonah, I-”

  “Don’t say that!” He spat. “Don’t ever say that.”

  “But it’s true! You can’t expect me to be impervious to you, and I can’t deny what I feel.” I tried to reach out again.

  “No,” he interrupted. “Don’t touch me.”

  I sat up and stared at him, completely perplexed with his change of attitude. Last night he’d needed me and embraced the comfort I offered. Now he was on lockdown with every emotion he had held behind gates of steel. I thought we’d reached an understanding; he said he wanted to enjoy time with someone who knew the truth. Why did that change when he knew my heart was involved? Did he not feel the same for me?

  I swallowed down my anxiety but couldn’t stop my stomach from churning. It became worse when Jonah shifted across the mattress. He sat on the edge with his back to me; his tattoos standing out starkly against his pale skin. My fingers itched to touch them, to touch him. I knew him enough to know that once he shut down, no amount of care would turn it around.

  “You should leave. I told you to go last night,” he responded, his words like ice.

  “But then you said you wanted my comfort,” I pointed out.

  “I was stupid.” He stood up, keeping his back to me. “I can’t expect you to want any kind of relationship with me, knowing what you do. I got carried away by the freedom I feel when I’m around you. I shouldn’t have.

  There’s a reason I let no one in, and now you know. Don’t hate me, Red. I don’t ever want to hurt you. I’m stopping this before you’re in a prime position for me to fuck you up. Just see this for what it is.”

  “And that would be?”

  I moved off the bed, stalking angrily over to him, intent on getting some answers. His mood swings drove me crazy. Though I
could understand why he was like this.

  He couldn’t continue being alone. Jonah Quinn was crying out for someone to understand him, but the more I tried the more he seemed to push me away.

  “I’m not going to spell it out for you. I’m not that cruel.”

  “Are you trying to say that we were nothing more than sex? Are you kidding me?” I asked, raising my voice.

  “I just thought I made it clear that I can’t be with anyone.”

  Anger coursed through my blood, heating it until I could barely hang on to my sanity. He was throwing rocks, trying to get me to retreat, and they stung.

  My voice came out high pitched and slightly hysterical, “When? When did you tell me that? When you were singing to me? When you set up the roof for a very personal movie date? Or was it when you had me up against a tree in the park? How about when I had my hand in your shorts, feeling just how aroused you were? Because I don’t recall having that conversation with you, Jonah!”

  He kicked the bed, letting a juicy curse rip through the air, but I was on a roll. I wouldn’t be discarded twice by this man. I had more respect for myself than that. He didn’t need to hurt me like this, no matter how much pain he was in.

  “I know what you’re trying to do, and as much as I’d like to say that it isn’t working, I can’t. You are driving me away. It was you that said this was supposed to the fun part, the beginning of something new and all that. I really want to help you, but you’re making this far from easy.”

  “Yeah, well, welcome to my world. Nothing’s easy.” He kicked the bed again, wincing when he caught his bare foot on the wood.

  “That’s because you’re making it this way!” I protested, pushing my finger into his chest, trying to get him to look at me. “You trusted me enough to tell me what happened, so why won’t you trust me enough to help you?

  Or is it more important for you to be right?”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “The hell you don’t!” I snarled. “You just want to prove that no one gives a shit about you. But I do!”

  Jonah opened his mouth, so I talked right over him.