A moment later he whipped off his sweatshirt.
Lauren’s heart faltered until she saw the T-shirt under it. He stripped off the white tee. “You can wear this. It’s still dry.”
She avoided staring at his chest. And those abs. How could her brain have forgotten those? Oh, he was holding out the shirt. “Uh, thanks.”
He put the sweatshirt back on and turned purposely to face the fire.
Right.
She moved back into the shadows of the room before she peeled off her soggy shirt and dropped it onto the bunk. Then she slipped on thedry tee that was still warm from Jonah’s body. The raw male scent of him washed over her, triggering something. Not a memory. More like a feeling. Warm and safe and happy.
Home.
She cast a look at Jonah and, finding him still staring at the fire, she pulled the neckline up to her nose and drew in the scent of him. She wished she could bottle it up and take it home with her. How could a scent she’d never smelled before warm her from the inside out?
Feeling shaken at the thought, she grabbed her wet shirt and strolled back to the fire. She hung it from a couple rusted nails someone had pounded into the stone mortar, feeling his appraisal.
“Better?” he asked.
“Much. Thank you.”
“You’re practically swimming in that thing.”
The shirt hung to her thighs, swallowing her. “It’s dry. That’s all that matters.”
“Doesn’t sound like it’s slowing up out there. Might as well get comfortable.” He pulled the chairs over by the fire.
They sat side by side, a warm golden glow lighting the space. The crackling fire and patter on the roof somehow made the room feel smaller. They were alone and she was snuggled up in his warm and yummy-smelling shirt. Lauren crossed her arms over her chest, a flimsy barrier against the intimacy of the situation.
They’d been very intimate at one time, whether she remembered it or not. How much had she told him about her childhood? It wasn’t the first time she’d wondered. It wouldn’t change anything if she asked the question.
“I’ve been wondering...”
After a moment he glanced her way, patient and waiting.
“Did I ever tell you about my childhood? You know, back when we were... together?”
His eyes were steady on her. “Sure. You told me everything.”
“Everything, meaning...”
“I know about your mom leaving—moving out of state—with some random guy when you were five. That you never heard from her after that.” His voice rumbled low and slow. “You told me your mom never knew who your father was. I know about the day you were taken away and put into foster care. You had brief stays in three good homes and four stays in not-so-good homes. I know about the rebellious period that ended when your tenth-grade English teacher convinced you that you were only hurting yourself and that if you wanted to get anywhere in life, you needed to make some changes.”
She fought the urge to turtle beneath the collar of his T-shirt. He probably knew about much more than that. Had she told him about the Stinsons, who’d viewed her and their other fosters as a paycheck? About Dillon, the foster brother who’d later bullied her for over a year? And what about Erik Fordham, the foster father whose advances she’d narrowly escaped when she was fourteen?
“You told me all of it.”
Shame filled her, forcing her to look away. The shame of having no parents, no family who loved her. The shame of all her belongings fitting into a kitchen-sized garbage bag. The shame of being a year behind in school because of all the moving. It filled her like a heat lamp, burning through her limbs and singeing her cheeks.
She pulled herself tall and jutted her chin as she’d done all those times when she felt less than. “Right.”
“And I’ll tell you now what I told you then.” Jonah waited until she met his gaze. “None of it was your fault. You were just a child and the adults around you didn’t take care of you the way they should’ve.”
This whole subject took her back to that feeling of being trapped. Of having no say in her own life. Of being subject to whatever the adults in charge wanted. She would never feel that way again.
“You were powerless.” His voice rumbled in his chest. “But you’re not now. Look how far you’ve come, Lauren. I’m amazed by your tenacity and your resilience. I admire you so much.”
Her first instinct was to brush off his praise. But she’d been working on that. She recognized the authenticity that shone from his eyes and allowed herself to drink in the compliment. “Thank you for saying that.”
