Page 164 of Those Who Are Bound

He gave her a little jerk. “Don’t shut down. We’ve been over this.”

Her hesitation, her brief glances at him and then away, were beginning to alarm him. He didn’t think she was going to answer until she said quietly, “You won’t understand, and talking about it now… It was… I needed you at that moment.Thatone.”

“At my apartment, you didn’t want to be touched.” He still wasn’t sure what the reaction had been about; he assumed it was self-denial on her part, that she didn’t feel as though she deserved his comfort.

This time, though, she’d needed it. And he’d walked away. Well, he had been pulled away. He wouldn’t have left her alone otherwise.

“I won’t understand, you’re right, until you explain it to me,” he pointed out. “You know you can tell me anything.”

That earned him a flashing look of annoyed disbelief.

“You don’t believe me? Have I been unclear about my investment in this relationship? In you?”

Now she looked back at him with guarded hope, like she needed to believe that she could tell him anything. She swallowed, screwing up her courage. He braced himself for what he assumed would be a heart wrenching confession of how that rope related to something about her brother; he hoped he didn’t fail her in his response.

“Pastor Jonah!”

Shit. It wasn’t the reaction he was supposed to have when one of his congregants called for him, the spike of irritation that shot through him. He needed this moment with Elliott; he needed more than a few minutes.

Elliott’s attention shifted from him to the person who was interrupting them—Gretchen, if he had to guess, the woman in charge of dinner—and back. Her expression beseeched, but there was already resignation in it as well.

Jonah raised his hand to Elliott’s cheek, caressing with his thumb, attempting to convey comfort as he tilted his head slightly to call over his shoulder, “Can you give us a moment, Gretchen?”

“Well, we’re awfully hungry,” came the laughing response. “And just waiting for you to bless the meal.”

“Go,” she said quietly.

“Elliott—”

“This is why you’re here, right? For them.” She was already pulling away from him, watching the woman over his shoulder.

“Elliott,” he chided. “For everyone.”

“There’s more of them than of me.”

“It’s not based on numbers.”

“It’s okay.” She bent down and picked up her backpack.

She started to back away, but he grabbed her hand. Shooting her a look of warning not to protest the contact, he turned and led her toward Gretchen and the waiting diners.

The night was young. There was still an opportunity to fix this with her.

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