Asking for It

Page 96

“It’s after seven o’clock,” I say as I put on my underwear, yank on a bra. “I couldn’t get to the airport before eight or eight thirty. They never have leftover seats anymore, especially not for the flights at the end of the day. ”

Jonah has refastened his jeans. He holds his hands out the way a groom might try to soothe a skittish horse. “You can fly out first thing in the morning. We can buy your ticket over the phone. ”

I shake my head. “That’s too long. ”

“They have to operate right away,” Chloe said. “He’s scheduled for a valve replacement first thing in the morning. ”

There’s no way I could spend the morning up in a plane, phone shut off, waiting to land so I can find out whether my father is alive or dead.

“Wait,” Jonah says. “Are you going to drive it?”

“I’ve driven from Austin to New Orleans before. ” It’s eight hours, usually—but late at night I can make better time. I might be able to cut that down to six. I could get to my house before dawn. Then maybe I could see my father first thing in the morning, before the surgery.

Jonah doesn’t look convinced. “That’s one hell of a drive. ”

“You meet the most interesting people that way. ” My laugh sounds strangled in my throat. “So don’t knock it. ”

“Vivienne. ” He steps closer to me. “You’re shaken up and worn out. Driving through the night—you could fall asleep at the wheel. ”

“While I’m freaking out about my father maybe dying any second? I seriously doubt I’m in danger of dozing off. ” I yank on my sweater, step into my jeans.

Jonah’s hand closes over my shoulder, a gentle touch that seems to flow into me like a slow, deep breath. “At least eat something,” he says softly. “It won’t cost you ten minutes, and you’ll be in better shape for the drive. ”

I can’t imagine a snack would make any difference in how I feel. But I realize Jonah’s trying to be helpful. To at least act like the lover he might someday be for me.

When will that be? After all your secrets are told. So, never. My illusions have been overshadowed by harsh, cold fact.

“If you can give me something to take with me, that would be great. ” I kneel to pull on my socks. “But I have to get out of here. ”

By the time I’m ready to go, Jonah has a plastic grocery bag filled for me—a chicken sandwich, a banana, even a plastic bottle of orange juice. Provisions for his hostage, I guess.

“You’re positive you’re ready to drive?” he asks.

I nod. I’m ready because I have to be.

“Your family—” Jonah hesitates for a long moment. “Are they going to take care of you?”

He’s seen between the lines. As little as I’ve told him about Chloe and my mother, he already knows they don’t have my back. Not even a crisis like this is going to seal the rifts between us.

Jonah’s a perceptive man. That doesn’t change anything.

“You don’t talk about your family. I don’t talk about mine. We figure how much we can share, and how much we can’t. Aren’t those the new rules?” I pause and take a deep breath. “Thanks for the food. And—this setup was great. Some other time. ”

He simply nods. The man is no better with good-bye than hello.

When I sit behind the wheel of my car, lingering soreness reminds me of how perfectly Jonah fucked me only minutes ago. I was exhilarated. I was shaken to the core. But all of those emotions have been wiped away. Only dread remains.

I’m on the verge of losing the last adult person in my family who hasn’t betrayed me.

•   •   •

“Sugar, you aren’t acting like yourself,” my dad said so many times that spring and summer. “We need to take you to the doctor. I think you have mono. ”

“I don’t have mono,” I would say. “I don’t need to go to the doctor. ”

Even if I’d been miserable with strep throat or stomach flu, I wouldn’t have gone to the doctor then. For months afterward, I was convinced that my next medical exam would somehow reveal I was no longer a virgin. That wouldn’t make Mom believe me about Anthony. Instead she’d have assumed I’d slept with a boy from school, told me I was fast, grounded me for months. Then I’d never be able to leave my house. I’d be stuck staying in, having to sit on that sofa and pretend I hadn’t been raped there.

My father had no idea about what Anthony Whedon had done to me. My mom didn’t share my “lie” with him, and Chloe wasn’t the type to admit to anyone that she was worried about her little sister “flirting” with her boyfriend.