Holding her feels like a Honey, I’m home kind of moment and I’m not surprised. In the back of my mind, I think I always knew this was inevitable. That I was coming home to Melody. My heart had been running toward her long before my brain figured that out.
She stirs first, pulling back, looking up at me.
I want her. I’ve always wanted her. That’s physical and easier to handle. But this feeling, this tightness in my chest is unnerving. I became hardened after the second set of pseudo parents returned me to the home and emotions are difficult for me.
And I’m struggling a little now, fighting to the urge to ask Melody to see me as someone worth keeping.
“Jonas?” she whispers, her expression inviting.
Her lips are tempting. And the temptation is stronger than I am.
I kiss her. And it anchors me the way the land anchors me. It’s a cowboy, you belong here like how the wind whispers that when I’m on my horse. When I’m mending a fence or searching for a stray calf. This land is part of my soul and part of my heart. And now so this woman.
I’m elated and scared at the same time. I want to give her everything. A life where she’s always happy. Where she knows she can be herself because I love her exactly as she is.
I’m scared that she won’t feel the same about me.
I kiss her deeply, and she responds in kind. My cock rises to the occasion, but I realize I don’t want to just take her to bed. I want her forever and I fear she’s not there yet. I fear that if I tell her how I feel and ask her to give us a chance at permanency, she’ll balk and run.
“Aunt Melody?” Marianna’s voice calls from inside the house near the front door.
We spring apart, both of us breathing fast and wanting more.
“I should…” She hesitates.
“You should. Now isn’t the time or place, but we’ll get there,” I say.
She nods, gives my hand a gentle squeeze, then darts in to see what Marianna needs.
The battle rages within me in earnest. The one telling me I shouldn’t give in to my emotions. I’m not afraid of getting hit. Of being starved. Of being locked up. I lived too long in a state of flight or fight. While physical shit doesn’t bother me, emotions scare me.
Loving someone and losing them, that’s a whole other level of pain I’m not real interested in feeling.
I’m a grown ass man. Over six feet tall. I’m weathered and worn. My body hard work strong. But when the past creeps into my thoughts, in my mind, I’m a little boy again who just wants somebody to keep him.
My phone rings and I answer Marshall’s call, glad for the reprieve from thoughts that create doubts.
“I talked to the kids earlier but wanted to ask how you’re doing.”
“All is well.”
Marshall knows me better than to believe that lie.
“What’s wrong? Do you need me?”
I know if I said I did, he’d race back to get to me. He’s the kid who stole food for me. Who snuck me a blanket when I didn’t have one. The kid who taught me how to read and the one who always defended me.
When we were at the Home, there was a big bear of an employee who hated me. Marshall would run to him and grab his fist whenever he’d take a swing at me. He’d yell, “No! Hit me instead. Hit me!” And the guy would. And I carry that guilt.
“Jonas?”
“Nah. It’s…” I sigh and tell him the truth.
“Ah,” his voice relaxes. “It’s Melody. I had a feeling things would start to develop if the two of you were stuck together.”
“I don’t think I can tell her what I’m thinking or what’s going on in my heart.”
“Because you’re still stuck in those cars as they pulled into the driveway of the Home to bring you back.”
