Unwritten Rules (23 page)

Beau slipped his arm around the back of my

chair, sending a waft of his musky cologne in my direction. It was nice, manly, but I instantly compared it to Jonah’s scent. I growled to myself, wondering if there would be any getting away from him. I had to stop longing for someone who didn’t want me.

“Having fun, Red?”

I cringed, pul ing back from him as if he had

slapped me. I didn’t know one word could be so painful. It wasn’t as if people hadn’t referred to me by that name before, because I’d gotten it al my life. The name now associated with a new level of intimacy, one I didn’t like associating Beau with.

“A-are you alright?” He questioned, the nerves showing in his slight stammer.

“Can you not cal me that,” I uttered. “Please?”

He nodded, his eyes darting fervently around the table. He was checking to see whether J.J. or Eli had been watching us, but they appeared to be locked in a conversation of their own. I felt guilty. He had been pleasant the entire evening, nicer than I original y thought he’d be. But he wasn’t my type. I only had
one
type. As much as I like to think I was coping wel with everything, I wasn’t, and Beau didn’t deserve to be strung along like this. For the rest of the meal, I became quiet and

subdued. I pushed the fruit around the bowl, trying hard not to think about
him
, but in doing that I
did
think about him. It was a vicious circle. I hated it.

I wanted to go home.

The atmosphere around the table had grown

tense. No one was making eye contact. The whole date was a bust.

“Do you ladies want to get your coats? We’l sort out the bil , won’t we Eli?”

J.J. was more than happy to. I had to fight an eye rol at the chauvinistic attitude. I could pay for my own food, but J.J. proceeded to drag me out of the restaurant with surprising force. She must have seen the annoyance written al over my face.

I tapped my heel impatiently against the wal as we waited for our coats. I snapped when we stepped out onto the sidewalk. “You know I hate you for this, don’t you?”

“I just wanted you to stop the pity party. If being mad at me is the only way, then so be it.”

J.J. didn’t see that she’d done anything wrong, and maybe she was just trying to cheer me up, but I couldn’t sit and pretend to enjoy myself when I wasn’t.

“I’m not ready, J.J.”

“Sure you are,” she replied smugly as we began to strol down the street. “Anyway, he isn’t exactly asking for your hand in marriage, is he? Beau just wants some fun, El e. Calm down.”

“I’m going home,” I stated, pul ing J.J. back from the men.

J.J. scowled at me, but I didn’t wait around to hear what she had to say. I hailed a cab and was climbing into it as she yel ed for Eli and Beau to stop walking. My cel started to ring within minutes of me taking a seat, and after checking the screen, I chose to ignore it. I wasn’t going to argue with J.J. about this. I should have said no. I should have put my foot down from the start, because deep down, I knew I wasn’t ready to move on. I felt guilty for leaving them there like that, just not enough to turn around. She should have left me to deal with my own social life or lack thereof. I had been doing just fine going for drinks with her and Elijah; I didn’t need the extra complication.

After paying the driver and riding the elevator up to my apartment, al I could think about was running a bath and shutting the world out. However, as I walked from the elevator, I could see something resting on the mat outside of my door. I moved closer, making out what looked like a magazine wrapped in a pink polka-dot bow. When I bent down to retrieve it, my eyes fixed on the handwriting. I knew the script; I’d seen it before.

My hands shook; my heart feeling like it was in a vice grip as I entered my apartment. I dropped my purse onto the floor, my keys fol owing suit. I sat on the couch, numbness overcoming me. I had heard nothing from him in weeks. I didn’t get why he would send me a present now. He had to know how much his rejection hurt. Surely he realized how hard I was fighting to get over him?

With trembling fingers, I opened the bow and

looked at what he’d sent me. I let out a gasp as I realized he hadn’t just
sent
it to me, Jonah had drawn this for me. It was a graphic novel made for me, and amongst the characters, I recognized a tal redhead. Her name was El ectric. She was searching for the true identity of the hooded figure. I was entranced by the images, devouring every detail of the sketches on the page. It was our story, and I was taken aback when I got to the last page. The hooded assassin lowered his cape, revealing his true form. Jonah.

This is me. You’ve seen it all, and now I need
your help. You have the power to heal wounds like I have
never encountered. I need that. Elle, I need you.
The words written on the page made tears trickle from my eyes. They plopped onto the page, leaving a pool at the feet of the drawn Jonah. He was reaching out for me, and every cel in my body was tel ing me to go to him. This was his way of lowering the wal , of al owing me entrance into his life, into his hurt.

The voice that had held me at bay for weeks

wasn’t tel ing me to stop anymore. In fact, it was screaming at me to do the opposite. I didn’t debate. I didn’t even try to talk myself out of it. I took the paper novel and rushed across to my front door, intending to go upstairs and see Jonah. When I opened it, I walked right into a hard body. A
humph
was expel ed from both me and the body. When two hands gripped my biceps, I knew who it was.

“Slow down, Red.” The rumble of his words had

my insides fluttering and my heart singing. I held up the book.

“You made this for me,” I said, breathlessly.

“Did you read it?” He asked, his voice husky and low.

“Yes. Al of it.”

He exhaled loudly, his eyes darting around my

face as he tried to assess my emotions. I could see his struggle. I wanted to ease it, but he had to know I wasn’t a doormat.

“Jonah, you hurt me. Again. You rejected me when al I wanted to do was help you. I told you I wasn’t a dol you could pick up and put down depending on your mood. I’m stil not.”

“Oh, El e, I’m so sorry. I messed up. I messed up bad. What’s in that book is no lie. I need you to help me. I want to be whole.”

“I’m not your fairy godmother. I can’t wave a magic wand and make it al better. My kiss won’t heal you. I’m just me. Jonah, you keep taking but you give very little in return,”

I said honestly. “I could never hate you for something that happened ten years ago. However, I dislike what you’re doing now. I dislike what you’re doing to me! Jonah, you need to try harder.”

He nodded, shuffling on his feet, flicking at the pages off the book I held. “I want to. I
need
to.”

I moved away, al owing him to enter my

apartment, al owing him into my heart, and praying once again, that he wouldn’t break it.

The silence was deafening; the atmosphere

oppressive.

I refused to make smal talk and pretend

everything was al right. Jonah needed to stop hiding, to start dealing with this. Only then would he have any hope of being part of a relationship. I admit I wanted to be the one to hold his hand through this, but I had to draw a line somewhere. I couldn’t let him use me for quick bouts of comfort, and he knew it. He had acknowledged as much in the comic book he had drawn for me. The bal was stil firmly in his court.

I clutched the book close to my chest, staring out across the room and listening to Jonah’s deep breaths. I was beginning to wonder if he would ever speak, when he final y did.

“You scare me,” he declared.

My brows knitted together, perplexed by his

words, as he continued.

“You showed me that there is a way out of this void I’ve been in. Those times we were together were the best moments I’ve had in ten years.”

“No way,” I snorted softly. “Better than when your novels were published? Better than the first time your band played a decent gig?”

“Yes. Better than every one of those.”

I stared at him in disbelief, but chose to say no more. It al final y clicked. I understood why he shut me down and pushed me away, which made forgiving him easier.

“I didn’t set out to fal in love with you. I know you don’t like that I feel this way, but that’s the truth of the matter. I refuse to take a step back, Jonah. I won’t crush what I feel because it makes your denial easier,” I stated adamantly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his

knees and exhaled, “I don’t think I’m asking you to.”

“Think? Seriously, I’m tired of the pushing and pul ing here. I get that you have more baggage than the average guy does. I’ve accepted that. I never blamed you or said anything disparaging about what happened to Quinn. In fact, I was on your side. I saw the incident for what it was

– a terrible accident. It was, and stil is,
you
, that can’t accept that.”

I swal owed, breathing deeply to try and get a grip on my composure. Raging on wouldn’t get us any further and would only make me feel better for a few minutes. So instead we sat in silence, neither one of us sure of what to do next. I studied his hands as he worried them, watched his foot tap to an inaudible beat. I averted my gaze when his met mine. Al the while I held his comic to my chest as if it was a barricade between the pain Jonah inflicted on my heart.

When he reached out, his fingertips touching

mine, I jumped, startled by the sparks that shot up my arm. He cleared his throat, prodding his pinkie against mine, silently seeking a way in. It was endearing in its naivety, but I held back.

“I need your help, Red,” he muttered a few

moments later. “What I wrote in there...” He pointed at the book. “It was al true. You’re the only one that can help me through this – the only one I want. I don’t know if what I feel for you is love. I’m not able to examine that yet, but I do care for you. I wouldn’t be fighting to make myself better if I didn’t.”

“You haven’t been fighting,” I pointed out, ignoring the flash of shock that flitted across his face. “You’ve been hiding and wal owing.”

I final y linked my pinkie in his, offering him a weak smile. His shoulders lowered in relief.

“I need to ask you something before we discuss
us.
I have to know this, because it’s relevant to your situation.”

Jonah nodded and moved from his place on the

chair to sit next to me on the couch. Uncertainty swirled in his eyes as he pul ed my hands to rest in his lap. His thumb stroked my knuckles, impatiently waiting for me to ask my question.

I was unsure how to ask the question. It was such a sensitive topic. I decided ripping the virtual band aid off was the most viable option.

I squeezed his hands tightly and locked my eyes to his. “Did your parents real y disown you? Because I feel like I’m not matching the puzzle pieces together correctly. You told me you talk to them once a year, yet you send them money. From what I gather, this is the first time they’ve refused the check. I’m confused. I’m tired of playing games and just want it al laid out in front of me. I think it’s the only way we stand a chance of moving forward together.”

I watched the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the honesty of the conversation affecting him. I could understand the hesitation. He’d never been this open with anyone before. He was final y dealing with it, pain and al . He knew, just as much as I did, that this would be the crux of our relationship; if Jonah refused to work through his past, there was no hope for our future.

“After it happened...” he began, his words barely a whisper. “After the doctors had explained Quinn’s prognosis, my parents became distant. Tom had been wild at first, threatening to do the same to me, to make me pay, al of which I understood. It was the calm clarity I couldn’t cope with. He and Mom seemed to band together in their sympathy for me, although they grew apart from each other. I saw the wedge that had now being driven between them. It was me, my fault. He was the only father I’d ever known, and I couldn’t stand the thought that I would be the one to split them up.”

I nodded, stoking his forearm. Jonah cringed but continued.

“They went days without saying anything to each other, except news of Quinn. Watching them made my chest split open with guilt. I’d robbed my brother of his future, possibly split up the two people who had done nothing but love me, and fucked over everyone that had gotten in my way. When the disgusting reality hit me, that there wasn’t a single reason I’d done it besides being a pissed off teenager, I couldn’t stand myself.”

“Jonah, kids do stupid things-” I interjected, only to have him shut me down.

“Please, don’t make excuses for me.”

“I’m not,” I huffed. “I wish you would
listen
to me.
Hear
the words I’m speaking. I’m not making excuses; I’m saying that sometimes there isn’t a reason.”

He scowled. “No reason for why my brother can’t use his legs? El e, real y?”

I pul ed away from him, glaring before shoving at his chest. “Are you an angry little shit now? Huh, Jonah?” I pushed again, taking note of the confusion as it flitted across his face. “Do you stil want to dismiss the world?