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"I'm sorry for convincing Cara to fuck with you, even though she probably would have done it anyway, just for the entertainment."
Cara crosses her arms and raises her eyebrows but drops the attitude quickly and shrugs. "He's probably right. It's too damn funny."
"It's funny to embarrass me in front of my wife?" Jonas's words are sharp. The rest of his brothers, gathered in the doorway, drop their smiles.
"No, man. That's not what she means," Declan says seriously. "No one's trying to embarrass you. We're just fucking around, like we always do.”
Jonas holds the figurine up, peering carefully at it. "Just fucking around," he murmurs. Then coming to some decision, he nods. "Ok. Just fucking around. Me too." Then he turns, and throws the figurine a good fifty feet into the middle of all the cubicles. "There, that's better. Have fun looking for it."
He turns to me, eyes tight, and holds out a hand. "Ready to go?"
I don't hesitate, taking his hand, letting him pull me gently from Cara's office. I tug him to a stop next door, and grab my stuff. The lines of tension around his mouth tighten further, but his hands are gentle as he holds open my coat for me. I turn and wave to the group behind us, and I catch snippets of their voices as we leave. The overarching theme of those voices?
Confusion.
Jonas is silent as he stabs at the elevator button. Biting my lip, I sort through my options. Ask? Don't ask? I don't know exactly how to help, because I don't understand everything that just happened.
"Jonas —“
"I don't want to talk right now. Please."
I clamp my mouth shut, and tuck myself closer into my coat. If he doesn't want to talk, I'm not going to push.
I'll just sit in the painful silence, something I've never once done, not in my entire life.
We'll see how it goes.
33
JONAS
I feel her eyes boring into the side of my face, but I can't look at her. Instead, I tighten my grip on the steering wheel and focus on navigating the icy streets. It's rush hour, everyone hurrying to get home.
Not me. I'm not looking forward to the conversation that's coming. Avoidance feels like the right move. If I don't bring it up, then maybe she won't.
It's wishful thinking. I can feel her anxiousness from here. She wants everything to be okay. For everyone around her to be okay. So no way can she leave this alone.
"Jonas," she says softly. As always, her voice sends tingles down my spine. I make a humming noise, but stay focused on the traffic around me, hoping she'll drop it. She does but not for long. The energy in the van shifts, and the hairs on my arm stand on end.
"My father does this. Just shuts me out, and pretends I don't exist. It used to scare me so much. I would try anything I could think of to make him happy with me again." Her voice is faint, but her words light up the space between us. I don't like being compared to her dad. A man who from everything I can see, failed her. I would never pretend she doesn't exist. For me, she's the only thing that matters. But I'm not doing a good job showing her.
"But I've realized being ignored is better than the wrong kind of attention. So you go right ahead and pretend like something big didn't happen back there. I'm done begging people to be included in their lives." Her voice bounces off the passenger window as she looks out of it. She sounds distant. Unreachable. It's only then that I realize how badly I've fucked up. I glance at her from the corner of my eye, and everything about her screams leave me alone.
I turn into our garage, and pull into our secured area. Janey doesn't wait for me to open her door. I catch up to her at the elevator. She stares straight at the doors, refusing to look at me.
How the hell do I dig myself out of this? "That had nothing to do with you."
She makes a humming noise in her throat, similar to the one I made in the car. Now that I hear her doing it, I realize it's really annoying. It feels dismissive and almost condescending. The anger from earlier reignites in my stomach. If my brothers weren't such asshats, none of this would be happening.
Janey's frustration with me makes the air between us heavy. My throat is tight, but it doesn't matter. I don't know what I would say, anyway.
We ride up in silence, and the door to our apartment closes silently behind us. Janey dumps her purse on the side table in the living room, then heads straight for her bedroom, taking special care not to look at me. I'm a statue, watching my future go up in flames. The logical part of my brain tells me this is just an argument, but my body's ready to grab her and hold her until she softens. Until she looks at me like I'm someone that matters. Until she gives me another chance.
She's right. The silent treatment feels worse than getting yelled at. We don't do silent in my family. If something's wrong, we tend to confront it head-on. Sometimes we yell it out. Sometimes we punch it out. But then it's finished. I don't know if offering to let Janey punch me would be helpful or not.
Probably not.
I'm not sure how long I stand there, staring at her door. But finally, I head to my room and strip out of my work clothes. They're comfortable, but it helps my brain turn off to change into at-home clothes. Kinda like when Bruce Wayne becomes Batman...if Batman was a puzzle-obsessed billionaire.
