Wildflowers and Wide Receivers

34. Jonah

Chapter 34

Jonah

I shouldn’t be hovering in the hallway, leaning against the wall next to her door listening to them, but how can I not? Do I want to be in there with them? Absolutely. But after what I saw at Sophie’s place earlier today, I can’t stand there as a unified front in Vivi’s eyes with Sophie knowing that we’re not. Well, I don’t know that exactly, but I’m leaning more toward not. It was hard enough to call her over here when I don’t know if that’s the right decision or the wrong one. Then to sit with her on the couch, with Vivi snuggled between us and have them both in my arms in the kitchen, it’s too much. I can’t be a part of a bedtime routine too. I can’t start the image of what life could be like in Vivi’s eyes, knowing that we might not end up that way after all. Because if we were as solid as I thought, why would she have ever gone to that interview?

An interview she didn’t even bother to tell me about.

I don’t think I’ve ever given off the impression that she can’t tell me things. I want her to, just like I’ve been one hundred percent open with her. It feels really shitty knowing that I’m not the person to her that she is to me.

I guess in some twisted way it’s only fair. The first time, I broke her heart. The second time, she breaks mine.

Am I going to be one of these people who indefinitely has their heart broken? How many people need to leave me before I finally say, “No more.”

By the time she comes out of the room, I’ve already moved to mine. Sophie follows the light and finds me sitting propped up against the head of the bed. She pads over and climbs up to sit next to me.

“Thank you for calling me over,” she says, tucking some hair behind her ear. She’s so beautiful, my chest aches fiercely at what it’s about to lose.

I swallow hard. I hate that I’ve allowed myself to be in this situation. That I’ve allowed myself to become so invested in her. “I wasn’t sure if I should have. Probably not, but it is what it is.” I run my hand over my face and then through my hair.

“Jonah—” she whispers.

My eyes find hers. “No more tonight, okay?”

I can’t. I’m emotionally shot. I feel like I’m being pulled in six directions, and it’s too much.

“Okay,” she says, moving to mimic my position. The two of us sit side by side in silence. We lean against the headboard with our legs stretched out in front of us and crossed at the ankles. She’s wearing tiny navy shorts, and my gaze zeros in on our differences. My legs are significantly larger and longer than hers, but her skin looks so smooth and so soft, and my feet are giant, whereas hers are perfect and her toenails are painted pink. Just like her cheeks, she has freckles dusted across her thighs, and they’re still tan from our trip to the beach. I love her legs. I love everything about her.

How am I going to tell Vivi she’s leaving?

How am I going to say goodbye?

Pulling me from my own internal meltdown, she asks, “How did the whole Wildflower nickname come about?”

“When she turned one, I flew home for her birthday party. Of course I’d seen daily pictures of her from my brother and on social media, but I was shocked at how much she had grown. I made the comment that she’s growing like a weed, and Ashley looked at her and said, ‘Not a weed, but maybe a wildflower.’ It kind of stuck after that, and I’ve called her Wildflower ever since.”

“It really is a cute nickname,” she says, fidgeting with the hem of her shorts.

“Ashley thought so too, and the older Vivi got, the more they incorporated wildflowers into her room and everyday life. She used to have a wildflower backpack for school, I have no idea what happened to it.”

“I can’t believe you had the wall cut and transported to Tampa.” Both of us look toward the doorway as if we can see into her room. There was no way I was leaving that wall behind. At five, she didn’t understand why I had to have it, but I know she'll want it as she gets older and one day moves into her own place.

“Yeah, that wasn’t the easiest, but money talks.”

I knew a guy from college who had a younger brother. I hired a contractor to cut the wall and then replace the missing piece. He carefully wrapped the portion of the wall and I rented a U-haul. That friend’s brother drove the wall from Boston to Tampa and took it to a framing place I contacted. That day, I put him on a plane and sent him home, the wall became artwork for Vivi’s room, and with the help of a few of the guys from the team, we got it hung up where I wanted it to be. I wanted her to have a piece of her mom and her home so things wouldn’t feel so new and different. I have caught her staring at it quite a few times, and I always wonder what she’s thinking.

“Are you okay?” Sophie asks. I can feel her looking at me, so I look back and wonder how she can ask me that.

“No,” I answer honestly, shaking my head.

She looks down at my hands sitting on my lap and whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“Me too,” I tell her, knowing that even if she does take this job and move, I’ve made her decision harder. It would be an easy transition if Vivi and I weren’t in the picture, but now that we are, it just sucks. For all of us.

Her eyes shoot back to mine. “You have nothing to be sorry about. This is all me.”

“It doesn’t feel that way.” I hold out my arm as I lie down. As much as all of this hurts, I just need to hold her. To feel her next to me. “Come here.” She makes her way over to snuggle into my side, and my eyes slide shut. Her head finds my shoulder, her hand falls to my chest, and one of her legs drapes over mine. Does she feel how hard my heart is beating? Does she not realize that it beats for her?

“Does this happen a lot with her?” she asks.

“No. Mostly, she’s not been herself since they passed. They say time heals all wounds, and while I have seen more of her personality shine through lately, I’m not surprised today happened. It hasn’t been easy.”

“That makes me sad. I know it’s easier said than done, but I don’t want her to hurt anymore. She’s so young and should be enjoying her childhood.”

“I don’t think any of us wants that anymore, but you’re right, it is easier said than done. Grief has its own timeline.”

Grief that will flare up again when I tell her that Sophie is moving.

My eyes burn, and I let out a deep sigh. It feels like I have an elephant sitting on my chest.

She must want it. I have to believe she wouldn’t have gone if she intended to stay. And now knowing that the offer is out there, I suddenly feel like we’re on borrowed time. Job offers don’t just linger. There has to be a start date, and I’ll bet it’s pretty soon.

Her hand starts rubbing up and down my rib cage, and I bend my arm so I can run my fingers through her hair. Tilting my head so it’s lying against hers, I breathe her in. Citrus and sugar, she smells so good. My eyes fall shut, and I try to memorize the moment. Eventually, her hand slips under my shirt and presses against my skin. Did I have her a few hours ago? Yes. But I want her again. Rolling, I put her on her back, my hand wraps around her waist, and I hover over.

“This okay?” I search her eyes for any clue that it’s not.

“More than okay,” she replies, her hand fisting my shirt to pull me closer.

Our lips brush once, twice, and then the third time, I seal them together.

I suddenly need to be with her more than I need my next breath, and it seems she feels the same. Her hand slides up the back of my shirt while her other slips underneath me and wraps around my waist to pull my weight more over her. My hips settle in the cradle of hers as she pulls my shirt off, and wasting no time, I do the same to hers and her bra. Her chest connects with mine, and I push my arms underneath her, with my hands coming over the top of her shoulders. I want her as close as possible. I want to hold her as tight as possible.

Dipping my tongue into her mouth, I kiss her with everything I have.

Can’t she feel how much she means to me?

Can’t she tell how much I crave her? This?

Not to be left out, her hands slide down my back and under the waistband of my shorts. She grips my ass and pulls me into her. Our hips rock together, and through my shorts, I can feel the heat pouring off her.

That’s all it takes.

Sitting back on my knees, I stare down at the beautiful girl beneath me. Her lips are swollen, her cheeks are flushed, and her skin quivers as I run my hands over her chest, only stopping to squeeze once.

“Jonah,” she moans as my thumbs drag across her nipples and my large hands surround her torso. She’s not petite. I’d say her size is average, but my fingers damn near touch each other on her back.

I lean forward, and my mouth replaces one thumb as I lift her a little off the bed. Her head falls back and her knees squeeze me tighter as I work one breast and then the other. She tastes so good and feels so good, my dick aches to be involved.

Releasing her with a pop of my lips, I quickly unfasten her shorts. She shifts her hips and lifts her legs in front of us so I can pull everything off. Immediately, her legs return and fall open for me.

So. Fucking. Beautiful.

Just once, I run my fingers over her, slip one inside, and my mouth goes dry as she clenches around me.

I want this. Her. For the rest of my life.

Pulling my shorts off, I climb back above her and settle in with my lips on hers and our hips perfectly aligned. Easily, she welcomes me, and it only takes drawing in and out twice to bottom out.

There is no place in the world that is better than this, and as I make love to her—yes, I do fully know that’s what I’m doing—my heart does its best to speak to hers. “Don’t leave,” it whispers. “I’m in love with you,” it damn near cries, but I refuse to voice any of these sentiments. Not today, and maybe not ever. Do I want to beg her to stay? Of course, but there’s a feeling deep in the pit of my stomach that says, “Don’t do that. It’s not fair.”

I can’t be the one to prevent her dreams from coming true. I just wish more than anything that I was her dream, like she was mine.