Page 104 of The Lucky One

“Are you not happy for Paul and Kiki?”

“No, I’m glad they found each other.”

“Then why are you not talking to me? Did I do something wrong?”

Jon hit the brakes, bringing the car to a sudden stop in front of Paul’s house. “You didn’t do shit, Little German! I said I didn’t want to talk about it. Why is that so hard to understand?!”

I leaned back in my seat, more angry than upset. “You can’t blame me for worrying. You’re acting strange.”

“Get out, you’re home,” he said, looking straight ahead and gripping the steering wheel.

This wasn’t the Jon I was used to. I reached over and took his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. “You’re sober, right? You didn’t relapse after your appointment? Did you even go?”

He pushed my hands off. “What the fuck, Little German!”

“I only asked you a question, I’m allowed to ask questions, remember? Are you high?”

“Fuck, no,” he scoffed, but I wasn’t sure if I could believe him. Something must’ve happened, something that made my lovely Jon turn back to his old self-destructive patterns. I leaned in and put my hands around his face in desperation.

“Jon... please.” This didn’t feel like the kind of fight where we’d make up right after. Jon’s jaw was clenched so hard I saw a muscle jump.

Then he finally looked at me.

“Jamie was right... I’m not ready to get married or shit. You think I didn’t understand your hints? I did, and I did my own damn research. I know you can only stay in America if I marry you. But you bet on the wrong horse. I’m good for a fun time, Emily. That’s all.” My hands flinched away, and his gaze hardened even further. “I’m not like Paul. When will you finally get that into your naive little brain?”

His growl was like an echo in the darkest place of my soul. “You don’t mean that,” I said, my voice breaking. “I never expected you to—”

“You didn’t expect me to follow you to Germany or put a freaking ring on your finger? You literally forced me to say yes, and I’m not fucking stupid—I know your plan is to buy us more time so you can bully me into marriage after the summer. But we’re not even eighteen, for Chrissakes. And even if we were older—you don’t even know me.”

“Of course I know you, Jon,” I whispered, a silent tear rolling down my cheek. I didn’t bother wiping it away.

“You don’t,” he snarled. “Or you would’ve known that I’m barely capable of having a healthy relationship. Much less be a husband.”

I just stared at him, my throat hurting so much I could barely breathe. I pressed my palms on my chest like Paul had taught me. I knew we were young. And I knew expecting marriage at our age was a lot. But it wasn’t like I would’ve even considered it if it wasn’t for the visa.

“It’s not true,” I said. “Yesterday you said you were planning a surprise for me and—”

“I was talking about the way I was going to fuck you.”

I let out a loud snort. He was trying to break my heart like everyone said he would. But I wouldn’t let them be right.

“I know you don’t mean that. It’s just that whatever happened to you yesterday is something you want to deal with on your own. When you figure out the shit that’s bothering you, I’ll be there. But don’t think I’m naive enough to swallow this bullshit you’re feeding me. We’ve been through this before. I’m smarter this time, got it?”

His eyes flashed dangerously but his lips stayed shut.

I kissed him on the cheek, not breaking our rule #1. He turned his face to the side.

I crawled out of the car and shut the door with a bang. This wasn’t the end of us. He was wrong about one thing.

I knew him.

He would never say those hurtful words and truly mean them. Something had happened, something he needed time to process before he could talk to me about it. I stopped crying. Whatever it was, he would tell me when he was ready.

And if he wouldn’t tell me, he would write it.

Beep Beep Beep

Emily

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