Page 2 of Invisible Scars
My heart races, trapped under his intense stare that’s heating the longer our gazes stay connected, like black holes swirling around increasingly dilating pupils. Jonah’s fingers feather against my skin, his barely-there yet painfully felt touch sending a tremor through my breath. My hand reaches out on its own accord, resting on his smooth cheek.
“You’ve never told me any of that,” I say in a soft voice. Jonah leans into my touch, and the thin tether that we’ve seemed to have between us since the first day I set foot in Peak Securities Headquarters eight months ago is suddenly tugging hard, thickening, pulling me to him with an intensity I didn’t know was possible.
“I didn’t want you to go all soft on me,” he retorts, those crinkles around his eyes appearing again, though this time, there’s a hint of mischief in his smile.
“You aresucha brat, Jonah Peak.” I huff and drop my hand, though I can’t help but smile as well. “And I find your lack of faith disturbing.”
Jonah pulls his hypnotizing touch away and stares at me in astonishment. “Did you just quote Darth Vader?”
“I’m impressed you knew that.” I return his surprised gaze with one of my own. “You’re aStar Warsfan?”
“Only the original trilogy.”
“Harrison Ford.” I let out a dreamy sigh, and Jonah chuckles, shaking his head.
“Never took you for aStar Warsgirl.”
“My brother is a super fan.” I lean back and stare straight ahead at the wall. “I’ve never felt compelled to watch it without him, but it was the one thing we could do together without arguing, so I’ve seen it enough times to remember it by heart.”
“I didn’t know you have a brother.” Jonah examines me as I shrug. I don’t talk about Abe for a reason. This was the most I’ve divulged about my family in New York since moving to Ohio.
“Are you feeling better?” I ask after half a minute. Jonah just nods at the concrete floor before looking up at me with a smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“Does this mean we’re friends now?”
“It means I’m your boss, and you’re my star strategist,” I answer with a slight shrug when Jonah arches an amused eyebrow. “I also eat dinner at your mom’s house with your entire family every weekend, and I adore your family. So, although I want to throw heavy objects at you most of the time, I’m pretty invested in your well-being, and I’ve got your back.”
“Sounds like friendship to me.” He offers me his hand, then stands and helps me up, lingering the connection of our palms.
His other hand lifts to my face, index finger hooking under my chin and his thumb resting under my bottom lip, tipping my head up to his face like it’s his given right to demand my eyes meet his.
“Thank you, Effie,” he whispers, thumb moving in a slow back-and-forth rub that has heat cascading over my body. “I needed this.”
“What part of it?” I ask in a breathless murmur. “Star Wars?”
Jonah laughs, his eyes filling with something suddenly not so dark, and he slowly leans down. My eyes flutter shut, and my lips part, ready to accept his sealing over them, but Jonah pauses when our noses touch.
I blink my eyes open to find his dark hot gaze penetrating mine.
“A friend.” His words whoosh over my mouth, an intimate caress that makes my heart do somersaults in my chest, and then his gaze disconnects from mine, his touch gone, and he’s walking into the hospital sporting that rock-hard exterior I’m so used to seeing him wear.
Tonight I got a glimpse at what he was hiding behind the armor, a look into his tortured soul, and it called on my own demons. Whatever Jonah has buried under the emotionless façade, it seems it’s too dangerous for either of us to resist. And I find myself craving more.
* * *
JONAH
I rush down the hall toward the yelling, barely registering the scent of surgical scrub that drove my nightmares to a new height when I first set foot inside the hospital a few weeks ago.
Just under two months, to be exact, since that ride in the back of an ambulance, trying to keep Sawyer—my best friend, my brother, the man I owe my life to—alive after taking two bullets to the chest.
The past three weeks have been a blur. Sawyer opened his eyes, then closed them again. Moved his hand, grunted. He’s been slowly regaining control of his muscles but never fully tapping back into consciousness.
Then today, I got the call, those two words spoken in the shaking voice of a nurse who’s become like family.
“He’s awake.”
“Tell me!” I hear Sawyer choke out as loud as his unused vocal cords allow him to when I’m at the door, and I pause to collect myself from the wreckage left by a crashing wave of relief. I want to yell and cry and maybe punch the asshole for letting his dick get in the way of keeping himself and Maddie safe, though I know that last one isn’t true.
