Dimple. "To be your yarn holder. Clearly."
"Jonah?"
"Yes?"
"Cut the shit." His face fell for a moment before the mask slid back into place and the dimple showed again. "You have no idea how to cut the shit, do you?" I mocked him.
"They're cleaning out Gid's house today," he blurted.
He looked away, his arm jerking the yarn. "Hey," I said automatically, moving him back into place.
"Sorry," he said.
Then his words hit me, seconds later. Like thunder booming after a faraway lightning strike. "What? They are?" I bleated.
The first thing I felt was panic, a running racing, desperate feeling. I felt like I could sprint right down the road to the King house and snatch the garbage bag out of Izzy's hand. It was too soon, too fucking soon.
"Izzy wants to move out as soon as she can." He blinked and looked back at me. "I guess it's too hard." His gaze caught mine and I knew he was feeling the exact same way I was. Panicked. Restless. Helpless.
I ducked away from his gaze. I didn't want to see all the hurt that showed there. Gid used to go on and on about his favorite nephew, and for the first time I was seeing that the adoration was mutual. Taking a deep breath, I tested my voice to make sure it was steady, "Well - ?" My voice was a lot higher than I meant it to be. "I guess I can see that."
I passed the ball around one last time. Jonah let his arms fall with a sort of resigned sigh. "I mean, yeah. I can too of course. But all of his things. His music. His instruments. They're all going to be gone. What's going to be left of him?"
Something inside of me fluttered with guilt, like a bird caught in a snare. That box was still right there in the center of my living room. That was what was left of him. I wondered if Jonah could hear my heart racing, because I sure could. "Did you look and see what was in there?" I hedged, hoping for one second that Gid had made duplicates. Maybe all my guilt was unnecessary.
He shrugged and looked away, a reddish tinge forming at the top of his cheek. "I couldn't look." He looked back at me in a challenge. "I guess I was too chickenshit."
That guilt fluttered again, then turned into a knife that stabbed me just under my ribcage. Right near the heart. "You should be nicer to yourself," I said and maybe I was talking to myself too.
He rolled his eyes. "Oh, like how you're nice to me?"
Another stab and then the fluttering of the trapped, guilty bird. "I'm Claire's friend," I reminded him. "I'm Gid's friend. I was there at the funeral. I helped with the wake. I'd say I've been pretty nice overall."
His eyes darted away from mine. "Yeah, I guess you've done all you should."
Stab. Flutter.
The guilt bubbled up. "Jonah," I started to say before I caught the words and bit them back into my mouth. I'd almost told him, but the anger in his eyes made me stop. Before I was convinced Jonah didn't deserve the box. Now I wasn't convinced that I did. But by the grief in Jonah's eyes, I could only imagine how much it'd hurt him that Gid gave me the box and not him. And I didn't want to hurt him anymore than he was already hurting.
Jonah looked at me like I had two heads. I needed to finish my sentence. Hastily I pulled something from my ass. "You want to learn to knit?" I babbled, holding out my needles. "It is soothing."
"I could use some soothing."
"I mean you play a guitar," I said, talking faster, trying to convince us both. "You obviously have skilled fingers."
He looked at me. The way my words hung in the air, laced with double meaning, made me wonder if I should blush. I certainly felt like I should.
Then he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees. I was acutely aware of the rest of the knitting club watching us, but I couldn't seem to tear myself away from his eyes. He tilted his chin up a little and I inadvertently licked my lips.
He smiled.
And the he kissed me.
I gasped when his lips brushed mine, making my mouth fall open which only made it easier for him to tease the tip of his tongue lightly across my lower lip. Like he was testing my reaction and when I didn't move, he slid his hand up to cup my neck. I shivered under his touch. "Jonah," I breathed.
And then pulled back, startled. I stared at him, breathing hard. "What the hell are you doing?" Flustered, I wiped my mouth, trying to brush away the traces of him that still lingered on my lips. My heart was racing like I'd run a marathon and my stomach was somehow in my throat and down near my knees at the same damn time.
He licked his lips and pulled back, and every cell in my body wanted him close again. The whole knitting club had gone silent, watching. I shifted in my seat and started gathering up my things. "Jonah," I blurted. "You want to get some lunch?"
Chapter Twelve
Ruby
The entire walk over to the Chit Chat Cafe, I was at war with myself. I ached - literally ached - for him to kiss me again at the same time I knew that would be the biggest mistake ever. He was Jonah fucking King. I knew him. Even if I hadn't practically grown up in his house and heard all the stories, I'd still know this was a huge mistake because he was world famous. I could look him up on Wikipedia right now and get a list of scandals and lawsuits and pissed of exes as long as my arm.
And there was also the small matter of him being my best friend's brother. Claire would kill me. She would literally murder me if she knew I'd kissed her brother. Or rather I'd let him kiss me.
But knowing that didn't stop me from wanting to kiss him again.
We blew into the cafe in a flurry of stomps and puffing of cheeks. The tip of Jonah's nose was red which had the odd effect of making his hazel eyes look green. He caught me looking and brushed his gloved hand against it. "I look like Rudolph, don't I?"
I tried to hide my laugh and then didn't bother. "You moonlighting as a reindeer?"
He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. I know. Gabe thinks it's hilarious too. Cold doesn't agree with me."
I was about to ask what the hell he was doing in Western New York in the wintertime then, but realized something before I mentioned it. "Gabe says that, huh?"
The corner of his mouth lifted ruefully. "He did talk to me at one time. Back in the day."
I nodded. "Yeah. He talks about you now."
Jonah lifted a wary eyebrow. "What does he say?"
I was saved from stammering by the hostess coming over to seat us. I took the moment to collect myself, torn between some strange, misguided loyalty to Gabriel King and his status as the aggrieved brother, and Jonah, the brother sitting down with me now, blowing on the tips of his fingers and looking like he belonged here. In the past few hours, I'd noticed that some of his studied mannerisms had fallen away. Two days ago, he would have never let himself be seen red-nosed and shivering, I was sure of it.
I wondered how many layers there were to this man I'd just kissed. How deep down you'd have to dig to find the kernel of authentic Jonah under the polished veneer of "Jonah King." I had no idea, but I knew that lying to him wouldn't peel that veneer away faster, so I told the truth. "He says you're an asshole," I finally supplied.