Page 57 of For Wrath and Redemption
He doesn’t let go when we’re safely across the road.
Neither do I.
Not during the tour of the Monument to the Discoveries, and not during the walk to Belém Tower. Even when he points out a stone rhinoceros-shaped gargoyle carved into one of the tower’s turrets, he doesn’t release my hand. He just lifts mine with his, pointing briefly with his index finger before dropping our hands back down between us. Why he doesn’t just point with his other hand, I don’t know, but the gesture makes my stomach flip and my brows furrow. I’m excited and confused. It’s dizzying.
I have well and truly lost my damn mind.
He doesn’t break our connection until it’s necessary for ascending the narrow spiral staircase to reach the top of the tower, and when he does, I feel the loss immediately.
I fold my hand into a fist, wishing I could imprint the shape of him into my palm, then wishing to lobotomize myself, because what the actual fuck is that thought? I shove it out of my head, but then we start up the stairs, and he places one hand gently on my waist. He leans over my shoulder and puts his mouth to my ear.
“So you don’t fall.”
I can’t suppress the shiver he elicits, and when I force a laugh, it’s shaky and breathless. The whole climb to the top, I can only think of his hand on my waist. The heat it produces, seeping through my shirt. The thought of his calluses on my bare skin.
I’m grateful when we reach the top, and I step out of his hold. Then my breath disappears for a different reason.
“Oh wow,” I whisper. “It’s...It’s...”
“Beautiful.”
I nod. “Yeah. It is.”
It’s a sweeping, 360 view of the area, made even more breathtaking in the golden glow of the late afternoon sun. My eyes follow the Tagus all the way to where the river meets the Atlantic, and the water seems to sparkle. When I spin around, I can see Belém.
I walk to the far wall and peer over the stone. I take in the picturesque coastline and breathe in the salty air. When a cool breeze makes me shiver and causes goosebumps to rise on my skin, I wrap my arms around my chest. Then, without warning, the scent of leather and bodywash engulfs me as Jonah wraps his leather jacket around myshoulders. I had been so distracted by him that I’d forgotten José had been carrying it.
I look up into Jonah’s face with wide, curious eyes, and he winks at me.
“It gets cooler at night this time of year. I brought it in case you needed it.”
I blink, words escaping me, and unexpected tears sting my eyes. I quickly turn my head back toward the water.
He’s being too kind. Too thoughtful.
Too much like what I’ve always looked for and never found.
Jonah traces his fingers over the nape of my neck, making me shiver again, and he tugs on a strand of my hair. I know he straightened it just to let it coil back into a curl.
“I love how it does that.”
I fold my lips between my teeth in an attempt to tame my smile. I try, but I fail, and I’m grateful he can’t see it. I snuggle down into his jacket, though, and I tell myself it’s just for the warmth. It’s not the smell or the sentiment. It’s not because of him.
I tell myself this, but I know it’s a lie.
I also know I’m totally fucked.
17
CLAIRE
We get backto the hotel around nine.
We stayed at the tower until sunset, and then he took me to dinner.
I’ve tried so hard not to stress over the dinner, but the cuisine was unfamiliar, and now I have no idea how many calories I need to burn off. Jonah wouldn’t let me order anything simple. He insisted on dessert. I’ve been fixating on it since, and that anxiety only spikes my feelings of failure. One unplanned meal, and I’m teetering on the edge of panic.
Eight weeks of treatment up in smoke, and I let a man unworthy of me light the match.
