Page 87 of A Series of Rooms
Jonah’s first instinct—just past the surprise—was to bristle.
“I guess the bar is pretty low.” The sudden clip in Jonah’s tone startled both of them, but at least it drained the final remnants of pretense.
Maybe this had been a really terrible idea.
Dominic seemed to agree, because he was already scooting toward the edge of the table. “I should go,” he said.
“Wait,” Jonah said, reaching out just enough for his fingers to brush Dominic’s wrist. He pulled back quickly. “I’m sorry. Please stay and finish your meal.”
He must have really been hungry, because he settled back into his seat and endured the blistering tension between them.
After a few bites, Dominic began to fidget. “I...” he started, then stopped, snapping his mouth shut and shakinghis head before beginning again. “I know it wasn’t right, disappearing on you like I did.”
The anger Jonah had kept buried for so long rose effortlessly to the surface. As much as he would have liked to sit there with a cool head and pretend that he had made peace with his past, that he was above it all now, that would have been a lie.
He couldn’t count how many sleepless nights he had spent imagining all the ways their paths might cross again, and what Dominic would say to him. If he would grovel and beg for his forgiveness. If he would be harsh and cold and unrepentant. None of the scenarios in his head had landed them quite where they were now.
The man across from him ran a hand through his overgrown hair, and Jonah resented the fact that he could still feel the phantom texture between his fingers.
“You knew what would happen, didn’t you?” Jonah asked quietly. “When you gave me his number, you knew you were throwing me to the wolves. That’s why you disappeared.”
Something changed in Dominic’s expression. “I was eighteen when I met Shepard,” he said. “It’s true, what I told you about my parents. I never met my dad, and my mom...” He paused, snorting out a dark laugh. “She’s so strung out she wouldn’t recognize me if I was standing right in front of her. I started running for her dealer, just trying to keep the lights on, but I got caught. My public defender knew about his program and got them to cut me a deal.”
“Are you trying to make me feel sorry for you?” Jonah’s voice was dangerously close to breaking.
“No, I don’t want your pity,” Dominic said. “I’m trying to tell you that, yes, I knew what happened when I was under Shepard’s roof, and yes, I knew that he would probably take an interest in you, too. I still thought it was better than you winding up in a jail cell.”
“If you were so confident in your charitable decision, why did you take off running?”
“You think it would have been easy to get into that fancy New York college of yours if you were carrying around a criminal record?”
“He almost killed me.” It came out louder than Jonah expected, drawing the eyes of a few curious tables near them. Jonah raked his fingers through his hair, which he had taken such pride in growing out since his time in Chicago. “He almost killed me,” he repeated, softer.
Dominic curled in on himself. “I’m sorry, Jonah.”
“I’m not interested in your apology.”
Dominic looked up at him through bloodshot eyes. “That's all I have for you,” he said. “I don’t have anything else to give.”
Every furious bone in Jonah’s body wanted to kick him while he was down, but he forced himself to breathe through the anger. To remember to be the person that he was now, and not the frightened boy he used to be.
“Can you just tell me this?” Jonah asked. “Did you ever really care about me? Was it ever real to you?”Because it was real to me.
Dominic looked down at his untouched plate of food. “I know it doesn’t matter now,” he said. “But I did care about you. I was never any good at caring about people, though.”
Jonah didn’t know how to respond. The sudden threat of tears made him feel like the sliver of control he had over this conversation was slipping from his grasp, and he needed to step back.
Jonah cleared his throat. “You should finish your dinner.”
Something like disappointment flashed across Dominic’s face, but he seemed to pick up on the cue that the conversation was over. What was done was done. There was no going back, and the only forward for each of them did not involve the input of the other.
Jonah stood to leave.
“Thank you,” Dom said. “For the food.”
Jonah nearly gave into the urge to reach out and touch him; to feel the cold skin of his arm, to feel some solid proof that any of this surreal encounter had been real. But he thought better of it, dropping his hand.
“Take care of yourself, Dominic.”
