Page 72 of Those Who Are Bound

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed. “I’m not wrong.” She obediently picked up her croissant.

Jonah watched her as she took a bite of the flaky pastry and then wiped madly at the crumbs that fell onto her yellow skirt. He asked, “Why would you tell her that I’m not a sit-around-and-wait kind of guy?”

Lucy looked up from her crumb-fighting with a bewildered expression. “You aren’t.”

“But in what context?”

She squinted, trying to recall, and then made a face. “Well, there are these cameras, like, all over ESE—for future reference, you know. When we were in the office, we sort of checked in on you—to see how you were doing. You looked pretty bored, standing there and playing with your rope. She’d asked if it was a twelve-step kind of thing, but I think that’s when I said it. Something like that.”

Jonah frowned.

“It wasn’t in a bad way,” she assured him. “Just that you don’t like to sit still—oh! And that’s why you weren’t sitting in the chair she’d left.”

Jonah had forgotten to ask Elliott the night before about the rope. After their conversation at the bar, the pizza had arrived, and Russ had rejoined them, this time on good behavior. He had carefully asked about their day, and Elliott had laughingly recounted the adventures on the motorcycle. A rider himself, Russ regaled her with tales of his own experiences.

After dinner, they’d gone for ice cream at the local shop where Jonah had the unique experience of envying an ice cream cone as he watched Elliott lick and suck at her vanilla cone, quickly lapping it up so it wouldn’t melt in the evening heat. He delighted in watching her struggle, laughing as she did so.

As dusk fell, they’d walked down to a table along the Missouri River and sat on the tabletop, easy in each other’s company. Whenever a train rumbled by, Elliott would turn and watch as it passed. On one of her watches, he leaned over and moved her hair aside, kissing her neck below her ear. Her breath had caught, she’d shivered, and his name had slipped from her lips. He’d smiled against her warm skin.

She was a siren, luring him in, and he was willing to go. More than willing: he was racing toward her.

She’d turned to face him, her arms going around his neck as she’d moved to straddle him on the table, kissing him ferociously. She’d threaded her hands in his hair, her body languidly rolling over and against his, a sweet promise of what lay in store. They’d made out, blanketed by the darkness, until he thought he was in jeopardy of not recovering if they didn’t stop.

He’d eventually walked her to the Mustang and had kissed her one more time, saying with a satisfied smile, “Good night, girlfriend.”

Laughing softly, she’d responded, “Good night, boyfriend.”

He’d watched her drive away, resisting the urge to jump on his bike and tear after her. But again, he’d had to wake up early this morning, and he refused to rush out of her bed once he found his way into it.

Now, however, Jonah remembered what he hadn’t asked. He looked over at Lucy. “Did she say anything about the rope?”

Lucy shrugged absently. “What rope?”

“That I was holding—on the camera.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. Why?”

“No reason. She just mentioned she had… I think she said it was a complicated history with rope. She wouldn’t go top-roping.”

Lucy gasped and smacked a hand over her mouth.

Startled by the response, Jonah asked, concerned, “What?”

“Ohmigod, I should have told you!”

“Told me what?”

Lucy looked around as though she was about to divulge State secrets, and then she leaned forward, her face a mask of agony. “It’s Gage, her brother.”

Jonah impatiently made a hand signal for her to come out with it; sometimes her dramatics were… dramatic.

“About how he died? He committed suicide. He hung himself, Jonah. She’s the one who found him.” Lucy made a face. “So… yeah, she might have an issue with rope. And here you are, the rope master. I should have said something as soon as I found out, but I was in my own head about it.”

Jonah frowned. “How do you know about this?”

Lucy pulled an exaggerated face; he knew then that he wouldn’t be happy with the answer.

Sternly, Jonah demanded, “Lucy, how do you know?”

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