Page 119 of Those Who Are Bound

“My a-bed?” he teased.

She laughed again.

Beautiful sound, her laugh. He pulled her back, tucking her against him. She fit perfectly. He thought about her words:are you worried?

No. Maybe he should have been, but he wasn’t. He knew himself. He was getting a sense of who she was, and her hesitation was understandable. But no, he wasn’t worried.

When he opened the door to his apartment, she broke away from him. She went inside eagerly, looking like a kid about to unwrap a present. Her eyes darted everywhere, trying to take everything in at once. He watched her, enjoying her enthusiasm and wonder.

His was a simple one-bedroom apartment with brick for the exterior walls and the kitchen divider. His living room windows faced downtown Kansas City and returned a dramatic view. And while she’d briefly taken note of the city through the windows, she was more interested in his decor: snowboards, skis, and bikes dangling from hooks. His furniture mostly consisted of plastic storage crates for his gear, with boards to prop a television, hold books, or the occasional photo frame.

She plopped down into a squat to examine a few photos highlighting various adventures: white water rafting, rock climbing, snowboarding, and the one marathon he ran (he’d never do that again).Tilting her head, she looked at the second row of photos: Lucy and his family.He watched her study the portraits, her expression revealing nothing of her thoughts as she looked at the people who resembled him.

Popping up as quickly as she’d dropped down, she cast him a mischievous look. “Bedroom this way?”

“Lord.” Prayer… curse… all-purpose word as she made her way to the short hallway.

At the threshold to the room, she looked in and made the sound, “Huh.” She looked back at him. “Queen.”

He waggled his brows. “Intimate.” He saw her pupils dilate with interest, but he was staying firmly planted in the middle of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Turning abruptly, she continued down the hall. Stopping short, she reached for the hall doorway. He started forward. “Elliott, wait. No.”

Too late, she was swinging the door open, asking, “Bath—oh!” She gasped and fell against the door; stumbled, more like, her hand rising to slap over her mouth.

Jonah was at her side, pulling her away and closing the door in one motion. Although neatly stored on a peg board, it covered the entire shallow closet: his ropes of various shapes and sizes for his myriad sports. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think to warn you.”

She flinched and cringed away from him. “Don’t touch me.”

“Elliott,” he chastised.

Her face was flushed, her voice strained. She wouldn’t meet his gaze, but he knew he’d see thunderclouds there.

Grasping her arms, she side-stepped him and tried to dodge around him. “I need to go home.”

He stepped in her path. “Look at me. Let me apologize.”

“I can’t right now, Jonah. Please, I need to go home. This isn’t your fault. I just need… I need to go home.” She held her hand out, presumably for her car keys.

She was trembling; she was fighting so hard to keep it together. How could he think this wasn’t his fault? He glared briefly at his closet door, and then nodded, although she wasn’t looking at him. He was seriously pissed at himself for not thinking ahead to the potential disaster of a wall of instruments that she saw as her brother’s murder weapon more than his own hand.

“Okay. But I brought you here, and my bike’s at your place.”

She nodded, her shoulders dropping.

In the elevator, she put space between them, watching the numbers as they descended. It was the longest short ride ever. “My inclination is to comfort you. I want to hold you when you’re hurting, and you’re rejecting me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not rejecting you. I want so much for you to hold me right now, but… please don’t.”

The ride back to Easy Street was tense and quiet. She kept her eyes closed and head back, her breaths coming deep and steady, and he could tell she was forcing herself to calm down. By the time he pulled under her house, she was watching out the side window. Without speaking, they exited the vehicle.

Jonah followed her to the stairs. She took a step up and turned to him, worried.

“I’m sorry,” she said quietly.

He handed over the keys but didn’t let go when she took them. “What have I told you about that?”

“I had a great time, if it matters.”

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