"You ready to go?"
I'd been so caught up worrying about the next day's meeting with Jace and Nick to discuss battle strategy that I didn't notice Jon coming up to my desk. He smiled at me with such affection that my heart constricted.
Why did he have to look at me like that? I didn't love him back! How could I replicate such an expression? Would he be onto me if I couldn't figure it out?
"Sure, just let me put some things away," I said absently, putting paperwork neatly in different folders.
It took me a minute to realize he was helping me. Ugh, why did he have to be so nice? I didn't deserve anyone's kindness but especially not his.
Jon reached for my hand and started leading me to the car, talking about something I couldn't hear through the blood pounding in my ears. He'd held my hand before, of course. Every once in a while when we were fake dating before the accident, he'd ask to hold my hand and I'd let him, weird as it felt.
But since holding my hand so often when I was asleep in the hospital—Faye had gushed about how cute it was for her to walk in and see—he apparently thought we'd reached a point where he could just grab my hand.
Well, I did tell him I loved him twice. By normal relationship standards, we'd probably passed the consensual handholding phase a long time ago. So why did it throw me off so much just then? It still felt so weird having my hand held.
I held little kids' hands all the time. Why was it so much different with adults? It felt…wrong. Off. Uncomfortable.
"…so then I told them they couldn't ride the purple elephant because it was too small."
Wait, what? I looked at Jon in surprise—were we in the car already?—and he laughed. "I knew it, you weren't paying attention."
My face turned a dull red. Busted. I couldn't admit that I was analyzing having my hand held. "I've had a lot on my mind lately, I'm sorry."
He took his hand off the wheel and patted my knee in what was meant to be a comforting gesture but nearly made me jump out of my seat. Dozens of horrible memories flashed through my mind in that instant and I was on the verge of hyperventilating. Thankfully, his eyes were on the road.
"Don't worry about it, I was just teasing." His voice turned ponderous. "You know, you can talk to me about anything, right? If someone's bothering you…I'd really like to know. Maybe I can help."
What to say, what to say.
My roommate is unintentionally trying to get me killed? I'm worried about my coconspirators getting caught before me and being left all alone? I have no idea what to do about you because now I consider you a friend and you think I'm in love with you? I couldn't lie and say I was worried about a case at work, he knew my current case load.
"I'm worried about Nick," I blurted. It wasn't a complete lie. I just had to improvise the rest. "The anniversary of his family's death is coming up and he seems sadder than usual."
He frowned. "You're that worried about him when you hardly know him?"
"Just because we didn't grow up together doesn't mean I hardly know him," I said defensively. Curse Nick for coming up with this unrealistic lie. It kept causing me problems. "We've hung out a lot since I found out he lived here. He's not Cindy but it's nice having a sibling relationship again."
"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I guess I'm still just upset that I had to find out you had a stepbrother from someone else while you were unconscious. Were you ever going to tell me about him? Clearly you've told him a lot about me."
If my face was red before, it was nothing compared to now. I was going to kill Nick the next time I saw him. "He said that?"
"Well…not exactly. But he knew who I was when we met and while you were in the hospital we talked a bit and he knew more about me than I would have expected. It was kind of weird," Jon admitted. "Considering I didn't have a clue about your family. Can you tell me about them?"
This was treading into dangerous territory. I tried keeping it neutral. I couldn't get emotional and let the truth slip. I had to maintain the lie!
"What is there to tell? My sister was my best friend. My mom was wonderful but she died when we were in eighth grade. My dad and I became estranged after Cindy died. We didn't have anything else to say to each other. I went to college and moved out here after.
"The last time I saw him was at his wedding. I'd only met Nick a couple of times at that point. He moved here after losing his family and saw that I lived here too on Facebook. That's how we connected. We were both lonely and filled a familial void for each other. That's all, really."
Jon was quiet a moment. "You said 'when we were in eighth grade.' Were you and Cindy twins?"