Page 50 of Meet Me at the Christmas Cottage
“I can tell,” he said, sliding into the chair next to her. “How are you doing?”
Bronte tried to shrug but winced at the movement of her head. She hadn’t realized her pain meds had worn off. Or even that she’d been sitting at the table long enough for them to. “I’m doing okay.”
“Do you have a headache?”
“Maybe a little bit.” She squinted. “Nothing that I can’t live with.”
“When was the last time you had meds?”
Bronte looked at the clock on her computer. “A few hours.”
Jonah shook two ibuprofen from the bottle and slid the glass of water sitting in front of Bronte a little closer. She took the pills and washed them down. “Thank you.”
Jonah ran a hand down his face. “I can’t believe I slept so long. Sorry about that.”
“We stayed up pretty late. I didn’t have the heart to wake you. I’m surprised you’re already up. It’s barely lunchtime.” In fact, he looked like he could use a few more hours of sleep. The bags under Jonah’s eyes had bags. “And besides, I really needed to get some work done. No point in waking you up just to watch me type.”
“But what if you’d needed something?”
“I’m sure it would have been fine, Jonah. It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Well, thank you for letting me sleep. I can’t tell you the last time I slept that long. I guess jet lag and everything finally caught up with me.” Jonah pushed away from the table. “Are you hungry?”
“Now that you mention it, I’m starving,” Bronte said, closing her laptop. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so wrapped up in a story that she’d lost track of time. It was a good feeling. But now that Jonah had mentioned food and she’d realized how long it had been, her stomach let her know that it had been neglected.
“I meant to get up and go to church this morning,” Jonah said, pulling out tomatoes, onions, and garlic.
“Little Stone Bible Church? The one that donated all the fun snowmen accessories for the contest yesterday?” Bronte asked, moving from the table to the island bar.
“That’s the one.” Turning the tap on, Jonah ran the tomatoes under the water. “I grew up in that church. Do you go to church anywhere in Tulsa?”
Bronte shook her head. “I haven’t been to church in…” She thought back. When was the last time she’d been to church? “It’s been a long time.”
“I’m sorry.” Shaking the extra water off the tomatoes, Jonah placed them on the cutting board.
Bronte shrugged. “I was in some good homes and some not so good homes.” Bronte picked at something that had dried on the counter. “One family, the Martins, took me to church with them on Sunday mornings. I really enjoyed it. I felt like I belonged there. I even asked Jesus into my heart and got baptized—I did all the right things, but…” Bronte sucked in a shaky breath, not sure why telling this story made her emotional. She’d loved that church, but in the end, the inevitable had happened. “The Martins had planned to adopt me, but they got pregnant and my adoption fell through. I was only with them for six months before I was moved again.”
Jonah was quiet for a moment before asking, “Did you get moved a lot?”
“I did.” Bronte left it at that and went back to picking at the spot on the countertop. “I think that’s when I decided that it was all too good to be true. All that stuff about being adopted into God’s family. I guess I’m too much for God too. Or not enough. Brad told me that as well, among other things.”
“Brad?” Jonah’s eyebrow quirked as he glanced up from chopping tomatoes and onions.
“Yeah, Brad. He is…was my boyfriend.”Stop talking. It was one thing to tell him about failed adoptions and growing up in foster care, but it was a whole other thing to tell him about Brad. “We broke up earlier this year.” Or rather, he’d broken up with her. “He said a lot of things.”
“I’m sure most of them weren’t true.”
Bronte blinked, looking Jonah in his eyes the color of the ocean, and she believed him. She believed that what Brad had told her wasn’t true.
“Bronte, you’re never too much for God. God can always handle your problems, and I want you to know that you’re always welcome here too.”
They fell quiet. Jonah reached across the bar and entwined his fingers in hers. Bronte stared at their hands. Heat burned in her middle at how right it felt to hold his hand. Jonah rubbed a thumb over her knuckles. Would he lean over and kiss her? A chill ran down her spine. She pulled her hand back and put it in her lap. Her guard was slowly coming down, but she didn’t think Jonah would hurt her.
“Thank you.” Her voice was husky, and she had to swallow down emotions that were best left deep. “I wish we could have gone to church too.”
“I believe there’s a midnight candlelight service on Christmas Eve if you want to go—we could go after the ball.” Jonah had turned back to the stove, dumping in the tomatoes he’d finished chopping.
“I’d really like that.” But would she? On one hand, she was excited at the possibility of going back to church. At feeling that sense of belonging she’d had as a child. But there were also nerves about what was happening to her heart. The one she’d poured concrete over and boarded up after everything that’d happened with Brad. She’d already made the decision she’d be better off alone.
