“I still won’t sign them,” I protest, even though we both know she has me. I’ll do anything to protect Jonah.Anything.
“I think you will. Because you care about him. That much is clear from your little performance together tonight, and from the kiss you shared at the altar.”
My father gives me a nasty smile, as if to emphasize my mother’s point.
Jonah and I tried to make our marriage look real, and in doing so, we played right into their hands. I thought it might protect us. I thought things needed to look real so that they wouldn’t be able to try and claim conservatorship over me, or argue with the trust over whether I’d truly met the terms. I didn’t think they’d go after Jonah.
But I was wrong.
“Just think, Winsome, if he wants a career in music at all, he can’t have something like this hanging over his head. His reputation won’t survive it and he has nothing to fight us with.” My mom says this like she’s trying to get me to see reason—like eventually I’ll come around to the correct point of view and agree with her. She’s so manipulative it makes me sick.
Still, I just nod. I carefully fold the divorce papers up and tuck them into my clutch. It’s going to kill me to do it, but I’ll sign them to save him.
“You’re coming with us, too. Don’t think?—”
I cut my father off. “I know.”
Even though the thought of being back in that awful, awful house with them makes me sick, I’ll still do it. If it will keepJonah and his family from being dragged through the mud, I’ll do it.
“Be at the airport at two o’clock tomorrow. We’re flying out of Bozeman and connecting through Denver. This backwater doesn’t have any direct flights to Birmingham,” my dad sneers.
I refrain from rolling my eyes, and just nod instead. I don’t say another word to them, and just turn on my heel and walk away. I paste a smile on my face worthy of the pageant queen I once was, square my shoulders, and walk back into the bar.
42
WINNIE
The next morning,I wake up cocooned in Jonah’s arms, warm and content. I roll over and look at him, his eyes still closed, hair mussed from sleep, one arm hanging heavy over me.
He’s so beautiful like this.
It takes me a moment to realize that this is the last time I’m ever going to see him this way, but when I do, something fractures sharply in my chest. I don’t want to leave him. But I don’t want my parents to come after him even more. I have no other choice.
Last night, after Jonah had fallen asleep, I stayed up and thought it all through. I considered telling him about it all—but I know what will happen if I do that. He’ll sacrifice himself for me. He’ll be ripped apart online by my parents and the fragile dream he had of releasing music will die. No one will care about his voice or his songwriting or his talent. All they’ll pay attention to are the lies.
He’ll sacrifice himself to save me—to protect me—and I can’t let him do that. He’s already done so much for me, he’s already given so much.
It’s time now for me to give. For me to protect.
Jonah wakes up a few minutes later, and like a coward, I pretend to still be asleep. He gets out of bed and pads across the room. In the kitchen, I hear him turn on the coffee grinder and open the fridge—sounds I’ve grown used to. Sounds I now love.
By the time he returns, steaming mug in hand, I’m brave enough to open my eyes and look at him again
“Hey,” he says, reaching down and pushing a lock of my hair off of my face. “How are you feeling?”
My heart leaps for a moment. How does he know? But then I realize that he must be asking because we got back late last night, and I had a few more drinks than normal after our set was over.
“A little queasy.” It’s not a lie. I’ve been nauseous since I saw my mom and dad last night. “I’m going to stay in bed a while longer.”
“I wish I could join you.” He takes a sip of his coffee and groans. “I promised my dad we could go to the lumber yard today. He’s got a few projects he wants to get started on over the holidays.”
Right. Christmas is only two weeks away. I was really looking forward to spending it with him and his parents, but now I guess I’ll be in Birmingham for it. I hide my frown with a yawn.
“That’s nice,” I say blandly.
Jonah starts getting dressed for the day, and far too quickly, he’s ready and about to leave.
“When will you be back?”
