Unwritten Rules (20 page)

I sensed him behind me as I walked to the couch and sat down on the edge. Jonah’s bare feet slapped against the wood floor, each movement echoing around the room. He slumped down next to me; his thigh almost touching mine. He exhaled, pushing his fingers harshly into his hair. I tried not to be affected by his naked, inked torso.

“I hoped you would read the letter. I don’t know if I can actual y lay myself bare to you,” his tone was laced with hurt.

“Tel me,” I pleaded.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

“Where does your letter start?”

He winced and began picking at the skin around his fingernails. A sense of foreboding surrounded us. For the first time I questioned whether I real y wanted to be Pandora, because once the box was opened and the truth was set free there would be no containing it. This was my last chance.

“It started with my name,” he uttered, and

swal owing thickly before continuing. “I was born Benjamin Samuels, and I was a monster, El e. At sixteen, I was a bal of burning rage. I felt sorry for anyone that got in my way. My parents tried so hard, but I didn’t give a shit; I was the only person that mattered.”

“Aren’t most kids like that?” I placed my hand on his thigh, feeling the tremble of his muscle underneath.

“Not like me. I was evil.”

The words left his lips with a nasty sneer. It was clear he was disgusted with himself.

“I don’t think-” I started, trying to ease his guilt. He interrupted, “Tel me, were you like that? Did you cause Mommy and Daddy to cry at night?”

“Don’t do that! Don’t put up that damn wal ! I hate it when you start being obnoxious and aggressive just because I get too close. It makes me question why I’m even bothering.”

“Why are you?”

I took a moment to calm down, knowing that no

matter what I said, he wouldn’t believe me. I had no idea how to get through to him.

“Oh, Jonah. I just want to be your friend. I know we jumped in feet first, but the rules are unwritten. We need to start over, take this slow. Friends first.”

He shook his head, a smal groan slipping from his lips. “I’m scared this wil always be between us,” he whispered, breaking my heart.

Any anger at his reticence disappeared. He was struggling with this, because he wanted there to be an
us
.

“I can’t soothe you until I know what it is that I’m battling against. I see the pain you’re in. I want to help, but your words constantly warn me against it. Let me make up my own mind.”

His eyes darkened in acceptance. I braced

myself, knowing he was needing to release the truth between us.

“I stole, I fought, I disrespected. I know you say a lot of teenagers are like that, but I was way worse. I began to hate everyone, but I focused my hate on the guy my Mom had married. I never knew my father, and I actual y liked Tom when he first got with my Mom. He official y adopted me, and I took his surname. I suppose,” he paused. “the hate needed a focus, and he was it.”

“Is Tom,
Quinn’s
father?” I questioned, wanting to keep him engaged.

He looked off into the distance. I could see he was slipping into the past, recal ing the hurt. I wanted to stop it.

“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 yel ing 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 ful of rage.”

His fingers tightened around mine. His next words were expel ed 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, El e. That’s why I left home. I’m no better than a murderer.”

I blinked, shocked at his comparison. Did he

real y 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 pul ed 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 al .”

“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?”

“El e, did you hear what I just told you? Why are you stil sitting there?”

His voice cracked and he turned, placing his

hands on the wal 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 al 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 hel 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 al ow it. I kept my hand on his back; his chest rose and fel 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 wal of self-hate. When he backed me up into the nearest wal and took the lead, I knew I was winning.

I let his need consume me. I could smel 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 ful 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 swol en 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 stil 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, El e,” 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 real y 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 al the men in New York, El e 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 pul 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.”

“El e, wil 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.