Page 19 of Invisible Scars
“You’re, uh, welcome.” He clears his throat. “Here we are.”
He pulls into the driveway of my house, and I peer out the window, squinting to try and see the front door, and I touch my hair again.
“Any chance you have an umbrella?” I turn a hopeful gaze at Jonah, and he shakes his head.
“Don’t you have a door in the garage?”
“I do, but since I don’t have a car, I use it as a storage room.” I bite my lip, calculating how long it’ll take me to get from the car to the house. “We’re blocked out, and even if we weren’t, I don’t have the remote for the garage door on me.”
Jonah’s gaze turns to the downpour, and he takes a deep breath. “Get ready to run.”
Before I can ask him what he means, he’s out of the car, his silhouette vaguely visible through the front windshield. He pulls my door open and throws his hooded bomber jacket over my head. With his arm over my shoulder, he secures the jacket in place, and we run as fast as we can.
It takes me a second to jam in the key and turn the lock, but all in all, we make it inside in less than twenty seconds, and my hair is still dry. I disarm the alarm and turn to high-five Jonah, only to drop my hand when I find him soaked to the bone, a puddle of water forming at his feet where he’s bending down to scratch Calgary behind the ears.
“Hey, you big lug.” I pat Calgary before ordering him back to his bed, which is actually a cute little nook that Jonah built for him after convincing me to keep him. It’s like his own little room smack in the middle of the house.
I turn to Jonah, who is back to standing to his full height, dark green polo sticking to his skin and accentuating the dips and ridges of his upper body, and I avert my gaze to avoid staring at the tempting sight.
“I probably have a shirt for you,” I say, kicking off my shoes while trying to figure out if any of the pants I have will fit him, but surmising that they’ll all be too small. Even the shirts are a stretch, but they’ll probably be good enough until Jonah gets home.
“Why would you haveanyclothes for me?” he asks, sizing me up while removing his own shoes and, after a second of thought, his socks as well.
I return his scrutinizing gaze with one of my own. “From an ex.”
I don’t know why I lied. I could just as easily have told him the truth—that I keep the clothes around for my brother. Most likely, he wouldn’t have asked me to elaborate, and even if he had, it would make more sense to lie about the why than the who.
As I try to stare Jonah down, the thought that maybe Ishouldtell him the truth snakes from my head down to my chest, coiling around my heart and squeezing. This house is supposed to be my sanctuary, a life far away from the gilded cage I was trapped in for so long. I came here to get away from Abe, not to continue enabling him, so why do I have a shelf full of clothes on the off-chance Abe shows up at my doorstep, asking to hide here until I can clean up his most recent mess?
I’m desperate to forget that part of me ever existed, a broken and misfitting piece of my soul that I never want Jonah to know about.
“Did they just leave them here?” Jonah asks with a crinkled nose.
“Haven’t any of your girlfriends ever stolen your t-shirts and hoodies?”
“Uh…” The question seems to have caught him off guard, and Jonah stares at me with a flustered expression.
“You’ve never had a girlfriend, have you?” I roll my eyes at the ceiling and motion him to follow me to my room.
“Not one that stuck around long enough to rob me of my clothes.” He shuffles behind me. “I don’t suppose you pocketed a pair of socks as well?”
“You may just be in luck.” I rummage through a drawer and turn to show him a pair of men’s socks in triumph when a mighty roar of thunder shakes the entire house. With a shriek, I jump straight into Jonah’s arms and bury my face in his chest. His very solid,barechest.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer, and I can’t stop from inhaling a lungful of his scent, that addictive pine needle soap, fresh and woodsy and oh so manly.
“You scared of thunder, Doll?”
“It startled me.” Jonah’s low chuckle vibrates against my cheek, and I can’t help but smile.
“Need me to stay and protect you?” I look up at him, and our gazes lock. Despite his light, teasing tone, his pupils are dilated, and I feel his heartbeat quicken under my palm.
“I don’t need you to stay,” I whisper, and a fleeting disappointment passes through his deep onyx eyes. “I want you to.”
“Effie, you don’t. Not really.” The desire in his eyes is unmistakable, though he still tries to do the sensible thing and take a step back.
But for one night, I don’t want rationality to dictate my decisions. I want to spiral out of control by choice for a change, and despite my best efforts, I still haven’t managed to shake off the tingle from this afternoon—can’t push down how Jonah lights up every cell in my body with electric energy.
And I amsotired of fighting it.
