57. Reese

There was a time when those tattoos and that long, dark hair would have melted me down to a helpless puddle of goo.

Jonah didn’t start out as the tatted-up heartbreaker he is today, but even as a sophomore in college, he had something about him.

There was this fire burning in him to shake things up. He was always going on about a Christ-like love, about the tolerance and acceptance that was missing from modern Christianity. It was a passion that sort of pulled people in. He’s a force to reckon with. Passionate. Unpredictable.

Fascinating.

I remember sitting with him while Chance gave him his first tattoo. Two overlapping triangles and John 1:16.

Grace upon grace.

I could have used a little grace right before Jonah dumped me.

I guess grace is only for the pure.

He made it clear that I wasn’t worthy. That I had disappointed him.

So, what the fuck is he doing in my hometown?

A sick feeling starts to settle in my stomach. This is all part of a big production. Jonah was good at that kind of thing, thought the more attention he had the more worthy whatever he was saying was.

And right now, Jonah has a crowd.

A cold sweat breaks out along my hairline. I take a small step backwards.

Skyler, calm and reassuring Skyler, puts a steadying hand right above my elbow. “Reese? You okay?”

I shake my head. No, I am not okay. I look up at him. Those dark eyes anchor me. Him and me against the world. I suck in air, realizing I was holding my breath. “Get me out of here.”

Jonah has been talking between songs. The lord has blessed him, blah blah blah, all that success has shown him he’s missing something.

This is where he would usually launch into a monologue about faith.

But instead of saying he’s been missing Jesus in his life, he says he’s been missing his girl.

The crowd sort of parts around me and Skyler’s hand slips away.

Word has gotten around.

A rockstar doesn’t just waltz into Silver Bend because he wandered away from the interstate. He’s obviously here for a reason, and apparently everyone knows that I am that reason.

And even though he’s up on the stage and I’m standing at the very edge of the crowd, I can feel his gaze hooking me, holding me in place.

Jonah wraps the microphone cord around his wrist, pushing the stand to the side. He stands at the edge of the stage, staring right at me. “What they say is true. Sometimes you don’t know what you’ve got until it’s gone.”

It’s all too much.

Jonah has gambled with this grand gesture and completely missed the mark. I’ve never liked being put on the spot. Everyone is staring, expecting things from me. A big smile. But I can’t smile because I’m terrified this idiot is going to propose.

Not giving him a chance, I pull away from the crowd and blindly push back into the festival. I don’t know where I’m going, I just know I need to get away.

Everything reduces down to a blur. Muted sound.

He finds me sitting on a hay bale outside a snack stand.

I look up at Jonah with a weak smile. “How’d you know where to look?”

He points at the sign over my head. “Just needed to find the nearest funnel cake stand.”

“This wasn’t the nearest stand, it was the farthest stand. I was trying to hide.”

He chuckles, shoving his hands in his pockets. He’s put a shirt back on and standing there like that, I can almost recognize him for who he was. My boyfriend. The guy I shared so many memories with.

But he’s also the guy who broke my heart and threw me away.

He stares at me, steely gray eyes scanning my face. “I’ve wanted to talk to you for so long.”

“They make these things called phones. Have you heard of them?”

He laughs, a little surprised. “I’m glad to see your fiery spirit is still intact.”

“Despite getting trampled, yes, I’m doing just fine.”

“Reese…”

His voice breaks a bit, and the sound makes my heart hurt.

“Why are you here, Jonah?”

He shoves a hand through his hair. “I must have composed a thousand text messages. Tried to call you even more, but every time, I just thought… what could I say to make it right?”

“You could start with I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Reese.”

“Okay.”

Okay, I’ve heard him. But I won’t say he’s forgiven, because he’s not.

I don’t owe him that.