Page 56 of Doctor Hot Mess

The tension builds, coiling tighter and tighter until it finally snaps. I come with a scream of Jonah's name, my body clenching around him. He follows soon after, his hips stuttering as he groans my name like a prayer.

We collapse together, breathless and sated. Jonah holds me close, and I breathe in the scent of his skin - chlorine, sweat, and something uniquely him. It's comforting and exhilarating all at once.

As our breathing slows, I can't help but giggle. "Well, that was..."

"Yeah," Jonah agrees, a lazy smile on his face. "It certainly was."

A shiver runs through me as the night air cools our damp skin. "I'm getting a bit chilly," I admit. "Think you're up for round two in the pool house?"

Jonah's eyes light up with that familiar mischievous glint. "Oh, I'm always up for you, Gray."

He stands, pulling me up with him. We dash towards the pool house, laughing like teenagers. Just before we reach the door, Jonah's hand comes down on my bare ass with a playful smack.

"Hey!" I yelp, but I'm grinning too much to sound properly indignant.

"Couldn't resist," he says with a wink, ushering me inside. "Now, where were we?"

8:51PM

The room isquiet except for the steady click of the uneven ceiling fan in the other room and our soft, uneven breaths.

Jonah lies beside me, his arm draped across my waist, as I trail my fingers lazily over his chest. His skin is warm under my touch, and my eyes catch the lines of ink covering his shoulder and arm. These tattoos weren’t here the last time—at least, not all of them.

My hand stops on the raised line of skin near his ribs.

“What’s this from?” I ask, my voice quiet but curious as I trace the scar.

He tenses slightly, just enough for me to notice. “A souvenir from my dumbest teenage moment,” he says, his tone light but edged with something deeper. “A reminder that we carry a little of everything with us—the good, the bad, and the really stupid.”

I glance up at him, resting my chin on his chest. “Tell me more,” I say softly. I’m intrigued, but there’s a part of me that feels almost voyeuristic, knowing how much he hates delving deep. This feels like uncharted territory for both of us—an exercise in trust, but one we need if we’re going to move beyond the surface.

He lets out a breath, his fingers absently brushing along my arm. “I was a stupid kid,” he finally says, his voice quieter than usual. “Climbed a fire lookout tower with my best friend, even though we weren’t supposed to. Thought it’d be a good time, something to laugh about later.”

He stops there, his gaze fixed on the ceiling, like he’s willing the moment to pass. I don’t say anything right away, letting the pause stretch. But my curiosity, and the way his voice faltered, won’t let me leave it alone.

“And?” I ask gently, my fingers stilling against his chest. “What happened?”

He hesitates, his jaw tightening. “I don’t usually talk about that part of the story.”

“Do you want to?” I offer, keeping my voice soft. “I’m not pushing, but I'd love to know more about the younger Jonah.”

His fingers pause on my arm, his grip just a little firmer. “You probably don't. Luckily, he grew up."

"Try me."

“We made it to the top, but once we were up there...” He pauses, his voice dropping lower, laced with something heavier. “We were messing around—goofing off, like idiots. He lost his footing, and…. It was a hundred and fifty feet up, if you catch my drift.”

I feel his arm tense beneath my hand, his jaw tightening as if holding back more words.

Oh, God. Suddenly, I feel like the world's biggest jerk for pushing him to talk more about it. I can tell he is upset, and I don't know how to make it better.

My heart clenches at the weight of his words, and my eyes catch on the ink winding across his ribs near the scar. It’s intricate but dark—a tower rising out of jagged shapes that could be rocks or shadows. I trace it lightly with my fingertip. “This... is it connected to him?”

He nods once. I can see his Adam’s apple bobbing as his throat works to swallow. “Yeah. I got it to remember him. Or maybe to make peace with it, I don’t know.” His tone is rough, like the words are scraping their way out. “I thought if I carried it on me, I would forget... like I ever could.”

I let my fingers rest on the tattoo, grounding both of us. “Jonah, you were just a kid. I can't imagine how that must have affected you.”

He doesn’t answer right away, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. “It changed the course of my life. He’s gone, and I’m still here.”

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