Page 30 of Invisible Scars
“Could you please run the bath before you go?” Jonah asks as he pulls out a pill bottle from his medicine cabinet.
“Sure.” I twist the knobs and check the temperature, watching Jonah tip a pill into a shaky hand before swallowing it dry. “You aren’t going to fall asleep and drown in the tub, are you?”
“No.” Jonah somehow manages a wry laugh, despite his obvious pain. “But I’m touched that you care.”
“Of course, I care.” I try my best, but I can’t keep the offense out of my voice.
“I was teasing, Eff. I know you care.” Jonah stretches out his hand and gestures me to him. I hesitate until he makes a move to come to me, and I hurry his way so he won’t put additional pressure on his leg.
He pulls me into a warm embrace, and I can’t stop from inhaling his scent. Even sweaty, he’s all man in a way that’s addictive.
“Thank you, Effie,” Jonah whispers. “I’m sorry for the attitude. It’s easier to handle certain things that way.”
“I’m going to make coffee and find a corner to work from.” I snuggle closer to his chest, finding comfort in the familiar warmth of his body. “At least until you’re safely in bed.”
Jonah nuzzles my hair, the sound of him inhaling and then sighing in contentment, warming my insides. And then he speaks. “Are you sticking around to tuck me in?”
Well, that ruined it.
“You’re impossible, Jonah Peak.” I roll my eyes, disentangle from him and go to turn off the taps to prevent the bath from overflowing.
“Can’t help it.” Jonah takes his shirt off, exposing the deep scars on his arms and the shallower ones on his chest. It isn’t the first time I’ve seen them. Heck, I had my hands and mouth on them most of the weekend, but it’s the first time I’ve looked at them in the context of his injury.
“I still don’t know what happened, you know.”
“Extraction operation gone wrong.” Jonah gets a far-off look in his eyes, the detachment in his voice speaking louder than his words. “Usually my leg is fine, but the pain gets pretty bad if I put too much pressure on it.”
“Then don’t. We all care about Sawyer and Maddie but not at the cost of your heal—”
“I owe him my life, Effie,” Jonah cuts me off with a harsh tone, his eyes intense and full of something hard and ominous and desperate. It occurs to me that the Peaks have probably been on the receiving end of this gaze more than once and that whatever’s behind it scares them just as much as it does me. Maybe that’s why none of them dare go up against Jonah when it comes to his injury.
“Tell me,” I ask in a whisper, my fingers feathering over a faded burn scar on Jonah’s abdomen.
We stand and stare at each other, the air heavy between us, until Jonah diverts his gaze.
“I don’t talk about that day, Effie. Ever.”
My heart clenches at his harshly spoken words that hide so much pain. “Not with anyone?”
“I tried during therapy.” He keeps his voice flat. “Honest to God, spilled my guts to a professional shrink. It only made things worse.”
Tears spring to my eyes, and I drop my gaze to his chest, fingers tracing the evidence of cuts and slashes.
“Has anyone else seen them? Your scars?”
“I haven’t exactly been celibate,” Jonah snips, turning to the sink in the guise of washing his face.
“That’s not what I meant, Jonah.” My fingers flutter over his arm. “Has anyone else whomattersseen them?”
“I never wanted anyone to matter enough for it to make a difference.” His answer hurts, although I know it isn’t about how he sees me but rather how he sees himself. “These aremydemons to live with, and they’re a handful without trying to work around other people’s expectations and discomfort.”
“You’ve never made me uncomfortable,” I say, my hand closing over Jonah’s bicep. “Look at me, Joe, please.”
Jonah squeezes his eyes shut, his hands curling into fists against the countertop and his breathing becomes uneven.
“Just drop it, Effie,” he says in a voice that I’m sure is meant to be harsh but comes out pleading. “Please.”
“Okay.” I press my lips against the rod of Asclepius. “We need to get you into the bath before it’s too cold.”
