Page 13 of Jonas (Silver Team #4)

Forgetting I was supposed to be watching the traffic, I glanced back at Jonas. The seriousness in his tone and his posture drove me to lighten the mood.

“For what? My awesome nickname, or is it my award winning conversational skills?”

“Sweetheart, I hate to break it to you in case you think you got nickname game, but you don’t. And just a warning—you call me J Dog in front of my team, there will be retribution.”

I really wanted to know what Jonas’s idea of retribution was. In my imagination he’d be a spanker. But the fantasy of him draping me over his knee and reddening my ass didn’t get a chance to fully form before he continued.

Side note: my ass had never been reddened, but the thought of Jonas paddling me was a new level unlocked.

“Had a stepfather who beat me and my brother. That was after he got bored knockin’ around my mom. Never did she shield me or Adam with her body.”

That wasn’t where I thought he was going with his ‘thank you.’ Not that I had an idea, but if I’d had to guess, that wouldn’t’ve been it. Not that my mind would ever turn to big, strong Jonas being beaten as a child.

That was unconscionable.

It also ate through my bones straight through to the marrow.

I knew how that felt, not having anyone protect you when you were small and vulnerable.

“So you understand,” I whispered.

“Understand what?”

“Why I’d shield you with my body. Why I could never watch as you were harmed, the same way you couldn’t do it.”

I watched as tension seeped into his body. The muscles in his arm flexed, causing his fingers to wrap around the steering wheel tighter.

“Did someone not protect you, Dee Dee?”

It was the ‘Dee Dee’ that forced the honesty from my lips.

“Same as you,” I confessed. “My mom watched my punishments. Though they weren’t called that, they were ‘teachings’ meant to deliver me from sin.”

“What the fuck?” he rasped.

“My father was, or I should say, still is, a fundamentalist. When I left he had four wives but that’s only because my mother had left the community and he hadn’t replaced her yet.

My brother, Michael, had been given approval by the elders to take a second wife.

He was twenty-one. I have thirteen siblings but Michael is my only full-blood brother.

My mother hemorrhaged when she gave birth to me and she had to have a hysterectomy.

For as long as I can remember, I underwent teachings.

It was my fault my mother’s womb was taken—I was born wicked. I brought shame to the family.”

“What. The. Actual. Fuck.”

Each word clearly enunciated. Each one punched into the air, filling the cabin of the SUV with a current of angry waves.

“It’s okay.”

“The fuck it is,” he sneered. “Nothing you said is okay. It’s the exact opposite of okay. So much so there’s not a word for it. The closest I can come up with is unacceptable, as in totally fucking wretched you were treated to that unpardonable bullshit.”

Well, Jonas was clear on where he stood on fundamentalism.

Good to know. Though the velvet blows he’d delivered were not good—they were scary.

I didn’t know what to make of his reaction.

I’d never told another living soul where I’d come from and how I’d lived, so his condemnation of my upbringing rattled the box where I locked away my father’s teachings.

If I wasn’t careful he’d upend the box and that was the scary part.

Since I’d never opened it, I didn’t know what would happen if the memories were shaken loose.

I just knew I was too afraid to find out.

“It was a long time ago,” I placated. “And I got out.”

“Wouldn’t matter if it happened a millennia ago, Derrika. That shit is not right. None of it.”

He wasn’t wrong, but I couldn’t think about how not right it was, or the guilt and shame would take over.

I had six sisters I’d left behind. All of them now old enough to be married off to men in the community.

All of them probably in marriages that included sister wives.

All of them still living in subjugation.

I couldn’t begin to think of the nieces and nephews I had.

Or what happened to my other brothers. The thought of them turning out like my father and Michael made me nauseous.

I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans and refocused on the car in front of us.

It felt like there were a thousand words clogging my throat. All of them trying to spew forward at once. Emotions jockeying for which one was going to overwhelm me. Now was not the time for me to melt down, yet the harder I tried to close the lid on my feelings the more they fought to break free.

Jonas’s hand covered mine. His fingers curled in, leaving me with a new, scarier feeling.

A comfort no one had ever offered. A balm to my broken soul.

If I wasn’t careful I could misinterpret his concern for something more.

I could mistake human decency for that one big thing I’d been searching for my whole life but told myself didn’t exist. I could fall in love with Jonas and I could do it easily. All it would take was Jonas’s kindness.

“We’ll leave it for now, sweetheart,” he offered. “But only because I sense you need it.”

“Thank you,” I whispered.

And more kindness, more care, more concern.

I needed to tread carefully.

Be smart.

Yet, my head, my heart, and my soul were at war. Two out of the three wanted to latch onto Jonas like a lifeline and beg him to hold onto me while I purged the memories. To see if he was strong enough to help me let go. But my head reminded me if he wasn’t, I’d crumble.

Jonas would either be my savior or my downfall.

There’d be no in between.