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“I’m thinking about it, but I’m scared. Dr. Morales said some things today that made me wonder if my entire life has been a lie. What if Roger Stanton isn’t my father?”
“It doesn’t matter who your deadbeat father is,” Jonah spewed angrily. “Your life isn’t a lie. Your life is your own. Now you just have to decide what do with it.” He paused. “I have some suggestions.”
“I bet you do.”Chapter FifteenIt was like déjà vu waking up in Jonah’s arms, except we weren’t on my old couch and his daughter was in my arms. I wasn’t sure how that happened in the middle of the night. The last thing I remembered was Jonah and me eating ice cream and watching Creed, which was part of the Rocky saga. I had no idea the storyline had continued.
I also had no idea what time it was because it was especially dark in the fort. But what I did know was I felt safe and warm, snuggled between Jonah and Whitney. It got me thinking about a lot of things, but especially about the qualities my therapist said my safe person should have—steady, nonjudgmental, trustworthy, willing. Most importantly, someone I felt comfortable with. I didn’t know why, but I’d never felt more comfortable than when I was with Jonah. And he certainly met all the other criteria. At least I thought so. Jonah was trustworthy. Wasn’t he?
“Good morning,” Jonah kissed my cheek. His morning scruff tickled and startled me. I didn’t know he was awake too, as my back was to him.
“Good morning, at least I hope it’s morning or we’re all late,” I replied.
Jonah lifted his arm and checked his watch. “It’s just after six.” He pulled me tighter against him. “I missed this.”
“Me too.” I took a deep breath and let it out at a snail’s pace. “Jonah, do you know what being someone’s safe person means?”
“Of course. Do you . . . need one?”
“Yes. Apparently, Dr. Morales thinks it would be good for me to relive all my bad memories on a daily basis and then share my feelings with my safe person. Me, not so much, but I promised her I would try. You know . . . there are things the safe person might not want to know about my past. It’s not pretty. It could make that person think twice about me.” Which I guess would make my decision about Jonah easy.
“Ariana, I meant what I said last night about wanting to keep you safe. I want that in every regard—mental, physical, emotional. There’s nothing you can tell me that will change how I feel about you.”
I kissed Whitney’s head before gently letting her go and turning toward her father. I needed to look in his eyes, try and gauge the truth if I could. That was one of my problems, though; I had major trust issues. Being lied to repeatedly for a good portion of your life will do that to a person. Especially when it was the people you’d loved the most. People like your mother and fiancé.
Jonah’s smile awaited me when I faced him. My fingertips brushed his strong jawline, enjoying the feel of the stubble that had grown overnight. “Jonah,” I whispered, “my mother did some pretty unspeakable things. Things I don’t like to think about, much less say out loud. And I saw things no child should. I even did things I’m not proud of just to survive mentally, sometimes physically.” Tears pooled in my eyes.
Jonah kissed my forehead and lingered there while tears trickled down my cheeks.
“Ariana, I know who you are. I don’t care about your past other than how much it pains you. I’ll do anything to help you overcome that.”
“You realize some of the pain of my past involves you, right?”
He drew me closer to him. “I know, and we’ll work through it together.”
I burrowed my head into his chest, wondering if we truly could. If perhaps there was hope for us, for me.
Jonah ran a hand slowly down my back. “As much as I would love to lie here with you all day, Whitney has school and I have patients to see.” He leaned away and tipped my chin before his lips came down on mine, pressing hard, but never parting them. It reminded me of the last kiss we shared before he left for his residency. He was trying to convey how he felt about me to the point of begging me silently to believe him. I pressed just as hard, hoping he knew how much I wanted to. That was enough of an invitation for him to part my lips—until a tiny body stirred next to us. We broke apart faster than a Nicholas Cage marriage.
I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. Jonah did the same as we watched Whitney stretch and come to life. When her eyes drifted open, she blinked them several times as if she were disoriented.
