“But...” he’d continued. “My friendship with Will is too important to fuck up. I’m sorry. He’s done so much for me. He’s basically saved my life. I owe him everything. And it would kill him if we... if I ever...” His vision had cleared, and he’d looked me dead in the eyes. Those eyes that had been so mercurial were solid, steely gray. “This can’t happen, Eliza. Ever.”
This can’t happen. Ever.He’d meant him and me. He’d meant our kiss. He’d meant that even though he liked me, he liked my brother more.
And could I even blame him?
God, I’d wanted to. I’d so wanted to. But Willwasthe best—at least to Jonah. And they had been friends for so long. Plus, Jonah was so much older than I was. He was in college, and I was still in high school. What had I expected?
The shame had borne down on me like a missile. Suddenly, I’d felt like I’d been the biggest idiot to initiate the entire thing. That I’d been flirty and too into him and desperate for something to happen between us.
That I’d somehow manifested that shit show by sheer desperation.
I couldn’t stand to look at him anymore. Or be around him. Plus... I’d been about to be sick. Like for real. And under no circumstances I’d let that happen after he’d just rejected me for my brother.
My body had moved before my mind had fully caught up. But fight or flight had kicked in, and all I could do had been to play it cool and not sprint out of the room in a flurry of hysterical sobbing.
“I get that,” I’d heard myself say. “Obviously. It would be weird anyway.” My hands had moved in ways they’d never had before. I’d kept jerking them in front of my face and then forcing them to my side, and then they’d twisted together in front of me, only for me to yank them behind my back. I’d probably looked like a marionette on acid.
He hadn’t look at my hands, though. He’d held my gaze from across the room and lifted one arrogant eyebrow. “Why would it be weird?”
Hadn’t he just told me it was wrong? Weird had felt like a softer synonym for what he’d been saying. And hadn’t he been the one pushing me away?
So why had I suddenly felt like I had to justify my actions and words? Still, part of me wanted that to happen between us so badly that my body physically ached with longing for him. My heart had twisted itself into a knot, and the hope that had been stringing me along for years hadn’t figured out that this was the end. It’d still soared in my chest like a helium balloon, bumping against the ceiling barrier of my rib cage.
But that hadn’t been the part that spoke. The part that had said, “Because you’re like an older brother to me,” had been a pure survival instinct. When his jaw unhinged and he’d stared at me, mouth agape, I’d added, “I’ve known you for like... ever. You’re family, Jonah. We’re friends. Just friends.”
He’d blinked at me as if he couldn’t quite get my face in focus. His mouth had worked up and down, but he’d looked like he couldn’t figure out what to say. Probably because I’d said everything for him.
I’d stepped back, anxious to barricade myself in my room for the next forty-eight hours, possibly the next thirty-six years, and scream into my pillow. And then cry. And then scream a little bit more. And then cry a hell of a lot more. And then rewrite my mental future, extricating him entirely from it.
Which was too bad for him because we’d had a lovely future together in my head, dammit.
A two-story house. The picket fence. Three adorable kids with my hair and his eyes. We wereperfect.
“Okay, sure. Yeah. If that’s what you want, Eliza. Friends. Of course. We’ll always be friends.”
I’d wanted to scream at him. That wasn’t what I’d wanted. That was whathe’dwanted. He’d wanted to be friends. I’d wanted to recklessly throw my virginity at him and have all his babies.
Clearing my throat, I’d taken a step back and glanced at the door. “Um, thanks.” I didn’t know why I’d said that, but there it was. Survival. And some intense but stupid urge to be polite and not make waves.
“And about Will—”
Oh, no. I would not, under any circumstances, let him ruin this moment even further by bringing up my brother again. “You don’t have to worry about me,” I’d assured him. “I won’t tell Will what happened. My lips are sealed. I’ll take this one to the grave with me.” I’d made a lip-zipping motion. “Consider it buried. Decayed.” I’d taken another step back, trying to figure out why I was still talking. “Ashes to ashes,” I’d heard myself say. “Dust to dust.”
“Eliza!” Jonah had called after me, but I’d already escaped into the hallway, and not a single thing on heaven or earth could have dragged me back into that room.
I’d made it to my bedroom and managed to close the door quietly before bursting into sobs. Thankfully they were so strong, so severe, that they’d been utterly silent. I’d miraculously cranked up my radio and buried my face in my pillow before needing to gasp for air. And that was where I’d stayed for the next twelve hours. Weeping. Grieving. Saying goodbye to the childhood crush I had convinced myself was the love of my life.
When I’d finally surfaced sometime after lunch the next day, Will had taken Jonah out. They’d gone golfing or something stupid. And I had showered, washed my hair, and decided I would never again entertain romantic thoughts of Jonah Mason.
He’d be in my life probably forever. That was unavoidable. I’d have to see him. Interact with him. Hang out with him. And I would have to treat him like the brother I claimed he was.
By the time the guys had returned to the house, I was fresh-faced and as peppy as ever. He’d avoided my eyes and had been quieter than usual. But I’d been my old self, razzing my brothers and laughing loudly at their jokes.
A year later, I had stopped getting misty-eyed and flushing with shame every time I thought about that kiss.
Two years later, I was fully comfortable being around Jonah and not assuming the shameful kiss was all he ever thought about when I was around.
Five years later, we were as close as he was with Will. He called me as much as he called Will. We hung out without Will or Charlie around.
