Regretting You (15 page)

I flip on the porch light and look through the peephole, relieved to see it isn’t Mrs. Nettle. It’s just Jonah, disheveled and holding Elijah
tightly against his chest. But my relief only lasts for a second when I realize that it’s midnight, and Jonah doesn’t just randomly stop by at midnight. Something must be wrong with Elijah.

I swing open the door. “Is everything okay?”

Jonah shakes his head, his eyes frantic as he pushes past me. “No.”

I close the door and walk over to them. “Does he have a fever?”

“No, he’s fine.”

I’m confused. “You just said he’s not okay.”

“
He’s
fine.
I’m
not fine.” He hands Elijah to me, and I check his forehead for a temperature anyway. He doesn’t have a fever, so I start to check him for a rash. I can’t think of any other reason he’d be here this late at night. “He’s
fine
,” Jonah repeats. “He’s perfect, he’s happy, he’s fed, and I . . .” He shakes his head and walks back toward the front door without Elijah. “I’m done. I can’t do this.”

A sinking feeling consumes me. I rush after Jonah and intercept him, pressing my back against my front door. “What do you mean you can’t
do
this?”

Jonah takes a step back and then faces the other direction. He clasps his hands behind his head. I realize what I initially thought was fear is nothing less than devastation. Jonah doesn’t even have to tell me why he’s so upset. I already know.

He spins around, facing me again, his eyes full of heartache and lined with tears. He waves a hand toward Elijah. “He smiled for the first time tonight.” He pauses, as if what he’s about to say next is too painful to put into words. “Elijah—my
son
—has Chris’s fucking
smile
.”

No, no, no. I shake my head, feeling the heartache pouring out of him. “Jonah—” I hear Clara’s bedroom door open before I can process what this all means. My sympathetic expression immediately changes to a pleading one. “Please don’t do this right now,” I beg him in a whisper. “I don’t want her to find out what they did. It’ll break her.”

Jonah’s eyes move past me. I’m assuming to Clara.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

I spin around, and Clara is standing at the entrance of the hallway, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Jonah mutters, “I can’t do this. I’m sorry,” under his breath and opens the door. He leaves.

I walk over to Clara and shove Elijah into her arms. “I’ll be right back.”

Jonah is almost to his car when I shut the front door and rush after him. He hears me following him, so he spins around. “Why would Jenny lie to me about something this
huge
?” He’s full of anguish, gripping his hair and then slapping his palms against the car, like he has no idea what to do with his hands. His head hangs between his shoulders in defeat. “Having an affair is one thing, but to lead me to believe I fathered her
child
? Who
does
that, Morgan?”

He pushes off the car and strides toward me. I’ve never seen him this angry, so I find myself taking small steps backward.

“Did you know he wasn’t mine?” He’s looking at me like I was in on this somehow. “Is that why she showed up out of the blue at my father’s funeral last year? She needed to cover up who really got her pregnant? Was this some kind of sick plan?”

His words kind of hurt, because of course I didn’t know any of that. I only just recently suspected Chris could be Elijah’s father, but this is the first time I’ve seen Jonah since having that suspicion. “Do you actually think I would have let them get away with that?”

He grips the sides of his head in frustration, then throws his arms out. “I don’t know! You’ve been with Chris half your life. How could you
not
suspect that he was Elijah’s father?” He walks back toward his car but then thinks of something else to say that will likely make me even angrier with him. “You knew they were sleeping together, Morgan. Deep down, you had to know, but we both know how good you are at ignoring what’s right in front of you!”

Yep. I’m definitely a lot angrier than I was ten seconds ago.

Jonah steps back, as if his own words boomeranged back into his gut. His anger is immediately swallowed by the apologetic look in his eyes.

“Are you done?” I ask.

He nods, but barely.

“Where’s Elijah’s diaper bag?”

Jonah walks to the car and opens the back door. He hands me the diaper bag. He stares down at the concrete beneath his feet, waiting for me to walk away.

“You’re
all he has
, Jonah.”

He lifts his head and stares at me a moment and then slowly shakes his head. “Actually,
you’re
all he has. He’s your sister’s child. He has absolutely nothing of me in him.” His words don’t come out with the vengeance that was coursing through him earlier. Now he’s just quiet and broken.

I look at him pleadingly. I can’t imagine what this must be like for him, so I’m doing my best not to judge his reaction, but he loves Elijah. There’s no way he can walk away from an infant he’s raised for two months, no matter how hurt he is right now. He’ll end up regretting this. I soften my own voice when I speak. “You’re the only parent he knows. Go home. Sleep it off. Come back and get him in the morning.”

I walk back to my house. I don’t mean to slam the door, but I do, and it startles Elijah. He begins to cry. Clara is seated on the couch with him, so I take him out of her arms so she can get back to bed.

“What’s wrong with Jonah?” she asks. “He seemed angry.”

I play it down as much as I can, even though I know I’m a terrible liar. “He’s just exhausted. I offered to keep Elijah for the night to give him a break.”

Clara stares at me for a moment. She knows I’m lying, but she doesn’t press me. She does roll her eyes when she passes me, though.

When she’s back in her room, I take Elijah to my bedroom and sit down on the bed, holding him. He’s wide awake now, but he’s no longer crying.

He’s smiling.

And Jonah is right. When he smiles, there’s a deep dimple that forms in the center of his chin.

He looks
exactly
like Chris.

CHAPTER TEN

CLARA

Everyone thought Jonah would be back teaching his classes on Monday, but he wasn’t. Mom said Jonah would pick up Elijah on Monday, but it’s Wednesday now, and he didn’t.

I don’t know what’s going on because my mother won’t tell me anything, so when Lexie comes to my locker after last period and says, “What’s going on with Uncle Teacher?” I have no idea what to say.

I close my locker and shrug. “I don’t know. I think he’s having a breakdown. He dropped Elijah off with us Sunday night, and all I heard him say before he stormed out of the house was,
‘I can’t do this. I’m sorry.’
”

“Shit. So your mom still has Elijah?” The way Lexie is chewing her gum makes it seem like we’re chatting about going to the mall rather than Jonah possibly abandoning his infant son.

“Yep.”

Lexie leans against the locker next to me. “That’s not good.”

“It’s fine. He’ll probably pick him up today. I think he just needed to catch up on sleep.”

Lexie can tell I’m making excuses. She shrugs and pops a bubble with her gum. “Yeah, maybe. But fair warning. My dad has been ‘catching up on sleep’ for thirteen years.”

I humor her with a laugh, but Jonah is nothing like Lexie’s dad. Not that I’ve ever met her biological father. But Jonah would never do something like that to Elijah.

“My mother said it was the day after Christmas when he stormed out of the house and yelled,
‘I’m done!’
He never came back.” She pops another bubble. “If there’s one thing my dad is good at, it’s being done. He’s been ‘being done’ for thirteen years.” She suddenly clamps her mouth shut and looks over my shoulder. She’s focused on something else now. Or
someone
else.

I turn around and see Miller heading this direction. His eyes land on mine, and for a substantial three seconds, he holds my stare. His entire focus is on me so hard he has to crane his neck a little as he passes us before he looks away almost forcefully.

We haven’t spoken since that night over text. I like that he’s not pursuing me, but I also hate it. I want him to be a good human, but I’d also very much like it if he didn’t care so much about his current relationship.

Lexie whistles out a breath. “I felt that.”

I roll my eyes. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did. That look he gave you . . . it was like . . .”

“Back to Jonah,” I say, pushing off my locker. “He’s a good dad. He just needed a break.”

“Fifty bucks says he doesn’t come back.” Lexie follows me toward the exit to the parking lot.

“Back to where?” I ask. “To school? Or to Elijah?”

“Both. Didn’t he only move here because Jenny was pregnant? He probably had a life outside of this town that he’d love to get back to. Start over. Pretend the past year never happened.”

“You’re terrible.”

“No.
Men
are terrible. Dads are the
most
terrible,” she says.

My shoulders shrink a little at her comment. I sigh, thinking about my father. “Mine wasn’t. He was the greatest.”

Lexie pauses her steps. “Clara, I’m so sorry. I’m a dumbass.”

I step back and grab her hand, pulling her forward with me. “It’s fine. But you’re wrong about Jonah. He’s like my dad. He’s one of the good ones. He loves Elijah too much to just up and abandon him like this.”

We make it another five feet before Lexie stops again, pulling me to a stop with her. I turn around, my back to the parking lot, my eyes on her. “What’s wrong?”

“Don’t look right now, but Miller just pulled up next to your car.”

My eyes widen. “He did?”

“Yes. And I need you to take me home, but I don’t want to make it awkward if he’s wanting to talk to you, so I’m going back inside the school. Text me when it’s safe to come out.”

“Okay.” I’m nodding, my stomach full of nerves.

“Also, you’re full of it. You are so into him. If you use the word
inconsequential
one more time in reference to him, I’ll slap you.”

“Okay.”

Lexie walks back toward the school, and I take a breath. I spin around and head for my car, pretending not to notice Miller’s truck until I’m at my driver’s-side door. His windows are up and his truck is running, but he’s just sitting in it, staring ahead with a sucker hanging from his mouth. He’s not even paying attention to me.

He probably doesn’t even know he parked next to me, and here I am assuming it was deliberate. I feel stupid.

I start to turn around and open my car door but stop short when he unlocks his passenger door.

That’s when he lazily turns his head and looks at me expectantly, like I’m supposed to get in his truck.

I contemplate it. I like the way I feel around him, so even though I know I shouldn’t give him the satisfaction of being able to summon me into his truck with one simple look, I get in his truck anyway. I am that pathetic.

When I close the door, it feels as if I’ve trapped a live wire inside the truck with us. The silence between us only makes the feeling more noticeable. I can actually feel my heart beating from my stomach all the way up to my throat, as if my heart has swollen to fill my entire torso.

Miller’s head is resting against his seat, his body is facing forward, but his eyes are on me. I’m looking at him much the same way, but I’m not as relaxed. My back is straight against the leather of his seat.

He does have air-conditioning, despite what I assumed last time I was in his truck. It’s on high, and it’s blowing my hair into my mouth. I flick the vent closed and then pull a strand of hair away from my lips with my fingers. Miller’s eyes follow my movements, lingering on my mouth for a moment.

The way he’s looking at me is making it really difficult to inhale a proper breath. As if he can tell I’m having a physical reaction to just being in his presence, his eyes fall even more to my heaving chest, albeit very briefly.

He pulls his sucker out of his mouth and grips his steering wheel, looking away from me. “I changed my mind. I need you to get out of my truck.”

I’m dumbfounded by his words. And also very confused. “Changed your mind about what?”

He looks at me again, and for some reason, he looks torn. He drags in a slow breath. “I don’t know. I feel really confused around you.”

He
feels confused around
me
? That makes me smile.

My smile makes him frown.

I don’t even know what’s happening right now. I don’t know if I like it or hate it, but I do know that whatever it is that makes me feel the way I do when I’m around him is a feeling that can only be fought for so long. He’s looking back at me like he’s almost at the end of his fight.

“You really need to figure out your shit, Miller.”

He nods. “Believe me. I know I do. That’s why I need you to get out of my truck.”

This entire interaction is so bizarre I can only laugh about it. My laugh finally makes him smile. But then he groans and grips his steering wheel with both hands, pressing his forehead against it.

“
Please
get out of my truck, Clara,” he whispers.

I should hate that he’s battling some sort of moral struggle right now. I like this feeling—thinking he might be attracted to me—a lot more than thinking he hates me.

I try to keep Shelby at the forefront of my mind. Knowing he has a girlfriend that he loves and cares for keeps me from climbing across this seat and kissing him like I want to. But I know I’m not doing anything to help prevent him from having the same urge, because I’m still sitting in his truck, despite him asking me to get out no less than three times.

I might even make it worse when I reach over and pull his sucker out of his grip. “Miller?” He tilts his head, still pressed against the steering wheel, and stares at me. “You’re confusing me too.” I put his sucker in my mouth and grab the door handle.

Miller keeps his head tilted just enough so that he can watch me exit his truck. As soon as I shut the door, he locks it, then puts the truck in reverse like he can’t get away from me fast enough.

I get into my car, fully convinced that Aunt Jenny was wrong about one thing. She said girls were more confusing than guys. I don’t believe that for a second.