HOLY FUCK.
“What just fell on my face?”
HOLY SHIT.
“What is that smell?”
I took a step back.
“Why are you stepping away? What fell on my face? What is that smell?” he demanded, sounding so fucking desperate. Jonah dry heaved as he lowered his arms, Mo kicking her legs, and he shook his head. “Please tell me that was a bird dropping on my face,” he whispered.
I took a half step back, clutching my fingers to my chest… and I lied. “It was a bird dropping,” I whispered too.
My girl was held parallel to the ground again, giving me a clear, clear view of a horrified handsome face… with a clump of Mo poop on a cheek.
On Jonah’s cheek.
I managed to keep my lips pressed together for about two seconds before I lost it.
I bent over and burst out fucking laughing as Jonah thrust her away from him as far as possible again… and gagged.
* * *
“Are you still mad at me?” I asked an hour and a half later as I drove us down the street after… everything.
Jonah’s laugh was more of a puff when he answered with, “No, love. I was never mad.”
I bit the inside of my cheek and forced myself to keep my eyes straight on the road. “You weren’t mad when I was crying laughing then?”
Because I’d been crying laughing a lot. Especially after Mo’s poop had landed on his face. And while he’d been cleaning it off with a baby wipe afterward. And when he’d carried her into his hotel room, holding her away from his body as he let out a dry heave here and there.
I’d also been crying laughing when I’d wiped her off as best as I could with baby wipes, when I’d jumped into the shower with her, and again when I’d gone back down to the parking lot and found him arranging the newly cleaned car seat cover. I didn’t even want to know how much it had to have cost him to get that thing washed and dried in record time while Mo and I had gotten cleaned up.
The whole fucking thing had been hilarious in a fucked-up way.
To give him credit, he’d only been serious at first.
But still.
He’d gotten shit on his face.
Dreams did come true sometimes.
That big body angled itself in the seat better, and I didn’t need to look at him to know that he was more than likely making a face at me. “No.”
I pressed my lips together for a second before asking, “Do your hands still smell?”
His groan made both of us laugh.
“How often does that happen?”
“Coming out of her diaper or onto the seat?” I snorted.
Jonah groaned again. “Forget I asked. I’d rather be surprised, I suppose.”
That probably was the best choice, but I still couldn’t help but snort again, the memory of the poop of his hands and all over her and her thighs and back so fresh.
It made my fucking month. I’d bet Grandpa Gus was going to ask if I’d gotten pictures of the incident.
I’d gotten her showered and dressed as fast as I could, but we’d lost all of the time I’d set aside for having dinner before heading over. He’d bought four sandwiches, two apples, and two bottles of water that we’d scarfed down in record time in the hotel lobby before leaving once more. Luckily, Mo had eaten right before we’d left my house and hadn’t been too grumpy about her early bath and adventure.
An image of her crap hitting his face filled my head yet again.
Oh. That child, giving priceless memories to cherish for the rest of my life. I already wanted to start laughing.
“Welcome to fatherhood.” I snickered as I finally turned the car onto the street that I had driven on, and been driven to, thousands of times.
Fucking fuck.
I had no reason to be nervous. I knew that. It wasn’t like they were going to stone me or anything.
Maybe just boo. It wouldn’t be the first I’d been booed.
I didn’t glance at him as I pulled my car into the parking lot of the still-familiar strip mall and found a spot in the back. There were just as many cars as I remembered there being for this specific night. “We’re here,” I told him. But when I got a chance to take him in again, I had to pause.
“What’s that face for?”
He was frowning. “Why were you gripping the steering wheel that hard?”
Why?
I opened and closed my hands, feeling the stiffness in them. All right. I guess I had been gripping the shit out of it. Taking a peek at Jonah’s frown, I tried to think of an excuse to give him.
Nothing came to mind though but the truth.
I didn’t want to admit it even to myself.
Fuck it.
“This is the first time I’m coming to my old club since I quit,” I admitted.
Those beautiful bright eyes just slightly widened before he asked carefully, “Before Mo?”
I nodded.
That had his eyelids lowering into a slow, slow blink. “How long did you study here for?”
My finger wanted to scratch my nose, but I kept my hand on my lap… in a fist. I cleared my throat. “About twenty years.”
His cute mouth opened in a small O.
Yeah, exactly. I blew out a breath. “I came to tell them in person I was retiring and just never came back.” That sounded just as shitty out loud as it did in my head.
“They were upset with you?”
“No.” I shook my head. “Not at all.” Not even a little bit. When I’d dropped the news, they had been surprised—of course they had been surprised; it hadn’t been a secret I’d claimed I was never going to have kids—but all the people who had known me had given me a hug and wished me the best.
Yet none of that had helped ease my guilt over leaving.
Or over staying away for so long when none of them had given me an actual reason to cut them out cold turkey.
Like a hypocrite, my conscious tried to say. Fuck. I rarely thought about it so that I wouldn’t feel guilty. That thought had me almost squirming.
“What are you worried for then?” the man in the seat beside me asked.
I didn’t want to answer that specific question, so I didn’t. “Jonah,” I said carefully. “Make me feel better. What’s the worst thing you’ve ever done?”
The answer came out of his mouth like a missile, without hesitation, without a second thought. “Leaving you and not being brave enough to call you for almost two years.”
I stopped breathing.
And then I swallowed those words down for later, needing to inspect them and the way he had that answer on his soul so readily accessible. I was honest, but not like that. Why’d he have to go and drop that on me right now, just like that with no warning or anything? Why the hell hadn’t he thought about that some more?
Scratching at the corner of my eye, I tried again. “That’s not what I meant. I meant more along the lines of borrowing your parents’ car in the middle of the night and sneaking out.”
“I never did that.”
I had to keep from smiling. “Yeah, me neither. You haven’t… stolen anything?”
He frowned and shook his head.
“Never?”
“No.”
“Beat someone up?”
That got me another shake of his head and a frown. “The older boys tried to beat me up,” he clarified, reminding me of his comment about being short and skinny for so long.
It touched me, it still seriously touched me. And made me mad he’d been picked on. “Your brothers saved you?” I asked.
“My sisters.” One of his cheeks hitched up. “A few times.”
More like all the time, I bet, since he’d said he’d never beat anyone up. I loved that his sisters were the ones to save him too. I focused again. “Did you ever toilet paper someone’s house? Thrown eggs at someone’s car?”
No and no, with horrified looks each response.
I was fishing now. “Trespassed?”
That got him to
tilt his head to the side. “I did jump into the neighbor’s yard once or twice to get a ball when we’d toss it over the fence. But I let them know afterward.”
Something that felt an awful lot like hot chocolate poured down the center of my chest. Tenderness, it was tenderness for this innocent, good soul. He had to be protected at all costs. He really did.
And I couldn’t help but smile at him even though I tried my hardest to press my lips together and stop from doing it.
And then this idiot had to turn it up a notch by grinning at me. “What? Have you done those things?”
“I’ve never beat anyone up for fun or stolen anything,” I explained, eyeing two cars that pulled into the lot and parked. Little kids in their gis climbed out, followed by a parent or two. They looked so excited. I had been the same way back then.
Actually, I had usually been that way.
Jonah’s next question had me glancing back at him. “Lenny, which of those things you mentioned have you done? The toilet paper and eggs?”
I nodded. More than once. I didn’t want to tell him how many times either if I didn’t have to.
An eyebrow went up. “Trespassing?”
Okay, that question wasn’t so bad. “Yes, but for good reasons.”
His face said tell me, but it made me hesitate.
Should I?
One three-second-long glance at his face gave me my answer. “We’re family now, right?” I got myself to ask, trying to ease into this.
The “yes” that came out of his mouth was as immediate as his “sure.”
My chest ached for a second, and I hoped I didn’t regret this. “I’m inducting you into the first circle of trust,” I told him carefully.
“Okay…,” the man I’d had a child with agreed, a little carefully.
His tone had me glancing up at him, and honestly, I felt a little annoyed that he wasn’t immediately jumping for joy at being inducted even further into my good graces. “Never mind,” I muttered quickly. “It’s not that interesting of a story.”
Lines crossed his forehead as he frowned. “I didn’t say to kick me out of the circle two seconds after bringing me into it, did I?”
I pressed my lips together, processing that.
“You asked me if we were family, I agreed. Then you got this look in your eye and said something about a circle of trust, and I’m still over here struggling with you referring to us as family,” he explained, still frowning. “Then, you looked like I kicked you, and that wasn’t my intention when all I was doing was thinking that sounded nice.”
His frown melted effortlessly into an unsure smile. “I know how strong that word is to you. It seemed like you kicked me right in the—” He motioned toward his waist. “—when you used it.”
Oh.
And that was exactly what I said. “Oh.” My shoulders dropped so suddenly I had no idea they had even been up in the first place. “I thought you didn’t want to be part of the circle of trust.”
The lines on his forehead got even deeper as he frowned and smiled at the same time. “Yeah, nah, that’s not the case. You surprised me is all.” His eyebrows went up. “Made my day, eh.”
I held my breath for a second, keeping my cheeks from totally coming up, and it was a lot harder than I would have imagined. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions,” I admitted.
That got me a blink of long, thick, black lashes. “You’re sorry?”
“Yeah.” What the fuck was he frowning for? “I know how to apologize when I’m wrong.”
His face went blank way too fast. And I didn’t like the way he blinked again either.
“I do,” I insisted before smirking. “Quit being a pain in the ass.”
One of those slow, deep laughs came out of him.
Whatever. “If you’re willing to be in the first circle of trust—”
“Hold on a moment. How many of these circles are there?”
I had to think about the things he didn’t know. The things I wasn’t willing to tell him yet. There was only one big thing, but I couldn’t exactly make it that obvious. “Three,” I threw out randomly to throw him off because two didn’t seem that impressive.
That must have been an answer he could live with because he nodded, so I kept going.
He was family, I reminded myself. Whether we wanted him to be or not. And he hadn’t done anything to make me feel like he’d change his mind about being in that position.
“As a member of the first circle of trust, you’re assuring me that you won’t be calling the cops on me, right?”
To give him credit, he agreed immediately. “Not even if they paid me.”
I tried not to smile but failed. Then I went for it. “My best friend’s cousin broke into her house a few years ago, and he tore her place up, bad. I found out where he lived, and Grandpa Gus and I went and did the same thing to his shitty house,” I told him with a grimace. “It’s kind of a felony, so please don’t tell anyone.” He stared at me from across the darkened car for so long that I added without meaning to, “She’s family. Someone had to do it.”
His smile was small but bright.
“What? Do you think I’m a bad person?”
Jonah shook his head. “No. But you have me wondering how one goes about becoming your best friend. I could use that kind of loyalty in my life.” He reached over and took my hand. “You do whatever you have to do for the people you love, eh?”
You do whatever you have to do for the people you love.
And that was why he’d forgotten about me so easily, I thought, and instantly sucked in a breath and tried to straighten.
But Jonah didn’t let me.
His features went serious. “What did I say?” he barely managed to ask before he closed his eyes and shook his head. “Lenny.” He reopened them, his face even more grave. “I never forgot about you.”
It was my turn to shake my head. “No, it’s fine—”
“It’s not fine and don’t tell me it is. I never forgot about you. I swear. Not a day went by that I didn’t think about you.”
My heart kicked up into a gallop even though I didn’t want it to. I didn’t want to have this conversation. Not ever, but especially not right in that moment.
“Listen to me, Len. I liked you heaps, heaps, do you hear me?” I could feel his gaze like a laser burning holes into the side of my face as I looked out the window. “I ruined this, and I know that, and I want to make it up to you. I’m trying to, slowly. But you have to know: I left because I was a fucking arsehole. I hated myself. Honest, hate for being such a damn fool and not avoiding that tackle. I didn’t think anyone would understand, but I see now that you would have, and I’m sorry, love. I’m so damn sorry I left the way I did. If I could take anything back, it would be that. If I could make it up to you somehow, I would, but I know that I can’t, and I still want to try anyway.”
The fingers on my hand tightened, and Jonah edged over as much as he could in his seat. “I’m trying my best here, and I’ll keep on trying my best, do you understand? I want you to get to know me again. I want you to be my friend again. I want to be more than that—”
“Jonah, stop.” My voice was shaky, and I felt like my chest had been cracked open more than any time in the past.
“No.” His forehead came to rest against the side of mine, and I didn’t let myself close my eyes. I made myself keep them open and aimed out the windshield. “I came back here for you.”
I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and try to lean away… but he wouldn’t let me. His hand curled over my neck, keeping me in place. “Why are you doing this?”
“What? Why am I telling you this?”
“Yeah,” I told him, speaking around the knot that had taken up space in my throat. “You didn’t come back for me.”
His gaze didn’t move off mine for a second. “No? You think I know so many people in Houston, Texas?”
I wanted to look away, I really did, but I didn’t. I looked right into his eyes, and
he did the same in return, this hurt, this… this… sense of how he’d just left me because he hadn’t cared about me enough, set up shop right in the center of my damn heart, stealing the air from my lungs, the pride from my spine. “It was seventeen months, Jonah.”
“Yeh, it was,” he replied, hotly. “Seventeen months of me being miserable and then thinking of you and how much fun we’d had before I’d fucked up my life in one moment.”
But he’d still left. For so long.
“I didn’t cheat on you, is that what this is about?”
I didn’t mean to hold my breath, but it happened. I didn’t want to do this, I knew I didn’t want to, but… “It wouldn’t have been cheating because we weren’t together.”
“We weren’t together?” he taunted me in another whisper, that hand on my neck inching up to cup my jaw as I continued resisting looking in his direction. “Is that what you’ve been telling yourself? From the second we met, we were only apart when I had to train or I was gone with the team, or when you had to coach. We slept in the same bed together more than we did apart after those first two weeks,” he told me, like I hadn’t been there. Like I didn’t know.
How could I forget? And when I went to suck in a breath, it was harder than normal. So much fucking harder.
“I still sleep on the left side of the bed even without you, Lenny.”
Some primal part of my brain that knew all about survival didn’t want to believe what he was implying. Saying. It wanted to cry bullshit.
But an even bigger part of me, the reasonable, practical part, thought she knew Jonah well enough to tell the rest of me that he wouldn’t lie. Not about that. Why would he? I had told him he was under no obligation to me. I wasn’t and hadn’t been trying to reel him back in. I’d enjoyed his friendship. I’d enjoyed him.
He wasn’t lying, and I wasn’t going to insult him by claiming he didn’t know his own thoughts and feelings.
That didn’t mean it made it any easier for me to handle what he was implying. Maybe it was easier to think that he hadn’t wanted me as much as I’d wanted him. Maybe it was a hell of a lot easier to not dream that he’d made a huge mistake and that he had felt the same way.
None of that meant I was anywhere near being ready for it or wanting to do anything about it.
The Best Thing Page 24
