Page 67 of Busted Dreams

Holding hands with Jonah felt strangely right. I didn’t know him as well as the others, and he never gave off any kind of overt signals like Beck or Thatcher. Even Rhys with his quiet but intense interest. Still, it seemed natural.

With him, I felt like we were equals. Sometimes with the others, they tried to take care of me so much, it was nice to be the independent person for once. It was a heady rush I never would have expected with Jonah.

He laid his head back and closed his eyes. This was the most at peace I’d ever seen him. Oh, I still had lots of questions about why this was so important to him. I wanted to understand him. But I enjoyed sharing something that was so private to him. Like he trusted me with this part of himself.

See, heady rush.

His grip was sure and calming in its own way, as if he were the one comforting me. Light butterflies fluttered around my stomach as I used this shameless opportunity to observe him, taking in all the little details I never noticed before.

A small scar on the right side of his top lip. An errant curl hanging over his forehead. Two tiny freckles on top of the shoulder closest to me. All things that made this time seem so special.

Jonah was an amazing person, and I was afraid his preconceptions of who he thought he was would keep him from sharing his true self with the world. Maybe one day, he’d be comfortable with who he was. Hopefully, I was there to watch it, like he watched me grow a little into myself without Mother Dearest.

That had been a weird conversation. I hadn’t noticed anything different in the weeks since she’d been absent, but now that he pointed them out, they were blaringly obvious.

“All done.” Mollie sat back and removed her gloves.

Wow. She’d bandaged him up and everything.

And she probably noticed me gawking at Jonah. Cue the irritating flash of heat creeping up my neck. I’d been so distracted, I hadn’t even taken any pictures. Damn it.

“Here’s your goodie bag. You know the drill, so I won’t bore you with repeating it.” She handed him a plastic bag with their logo, then headed back to the front of the place.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the lean lines of his muscles as he stood and stretched his arms over his head. He was so much slimmer than the others, but still in great shape. No one would ever have suspected all this was hiding under all the preppy clothes. In fact, I’d say no one knew the real him, period.

“I’ll pay first, then we can go grab food.” He untangled his undershirt from the polo and tossed it on.

No glasses. A white tee and tattoos peeping through the thin white fabric. No, no one knew this side of Jonah at all, and it made me giddy that I did.

At the front counter, he set the bag down to pull out his wallet. Her card was stapled to the side and just barely visible from the angle. Mollie Barragan. Great name. I’d have to remember that if I ever wanted to get a tattoo.

After he paid, we walked back to the car with a much slower gait.

“You seem much better,” I said as I opened the passenger door. He’d taken the keys at the front desk, so I took that to mean he wanted to drive.

“I feel better. Amazing now. And able to think straight.” He sighed as he dropped down into the driver’s seat. “Go ahead, ask your questions. I finally feel in a headspace where I can answer them.”

If we knew each other less, I’d decline and let him keep his secrets. “You like the pain of it, don’t you?”

He nodded as if he’d anticipated this question first. Watching the mirror as he backed up, he said, “Yes. I started coming here a few years ago, obviously.” He motioned to his tattooed body. “After my mom got sentenced and especially after I started high school, I started to have bad anxiety. I’d feel like my skin didn’t fit right, like I needed to peel it off. It’s weird, I know. But I got my first tattoo, and it changed my life. The steady hum of pain over one or more hours brought a clarity to my frazzled state that nothing else did. Sometimes it lasts months, sometimes days, it depends on what’s happening in my life.”

“I’ve read about something like this. Makes sense.” I’d worry about possible drug addiction with anyone else, but not with Jonah. Not after the fiasco with Devil’s Hands. “Do all of your tattoos have a meaning?”

He shrugged. “Yes, in some form or other. Another time, I’ll explain them all as I show them to you.” A sly grin curved his mouth.

Heat uncurled in my belly. That was assuming there would be another time he was shirtless. Jonah sounded as if he knew there would be.

“Great.” I tried for nonchalance. And failed gloriously.

My phone beeped. Beck.

Beck: Wyd?

Me: Heading to get food with Jonah. We declared a skip day. *winking face*

Beck: Nice. Where are you guys heading and I’ll meet you there.

I paused, turning my phone over in my hands. This was supposed to be Jonah’s time, but Beck was his brother. Glancing over, Jonah did seem back to normal, if not mellower than any other time I’d been around him.

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