Wicked Things We Crave

Chapter Twenty

By Friday, the paperwork was drawn up, Jonah had gotten his house close to photo-ready, and had also called Travis to ask him to shop around for Astrid's replacement.

She'd come home miserable every day all week. The guys didn't know what the hell to say to her and had unintentionally isolated her as a result. With her father not having stepped foot in the shop, Astrid no longer felt welcome. Seeing as how they'd be leaving town in not too long, Jonah suggested quitting and Astrid agreed.

Now Astrid was spending the day clearing out her small house, moving things she wanted to keep to his place and storing the rest in boxes. While she did that, Jonah painted his front porch, the only part of his house that appeared run-down.

Since he was playing music, Jonah hadn't heard the car pull up, the door open or close, or the footsteps approach. He did, however, recognize the voice as clearly as his own, despite not having heard it for a year and a half.

"Just got into town," the voice called out, causing Jonah to nearly fall off the ladder. "Went over to surprise my boy and it looked like someone had broken into the place. Found him passed out in the backyard. Heard I got you to thank for that."

Jonah stepped off the ladder, chugged his bottle of water, and walked out onto the lawn to face Harold. "You come here to kick my ass?"

Harold laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm too damn old for that, son. I'll admit, it is temptin'. But you wouldn't fight back, and I reckon that would take all the satisfaction out of it."

"Fair enough." And accurate. There's no way in hell he'd hit the guy who gave him his first job, gave it back to him after he got clean, introduced him to his best friend and made him a part of the family. Not only did he have no interest in fighting Harold, he'd look like an asshole hitting a seventy-year-old man.

"So how 'bout you offer me a drink, we sit down like gentleman, and you tell me your side of the story. 'Cause that son of mine mumbles when he's drunk, and I only caught about half of it."

Jonah nodded in agreement, then walked Harold up the steps into the house. The last time he'd been inside was when he first bought it, telling him all the shit that needed to be fixed just like his real dad had done. It seemed fitting for him to show up again at the end, when everything was being readied for Jonah's departure.

"What's your poison?"

"Whiskey," Harold told him as he sat at the dining room table; the one he fucked the man's granddaughter against less than a week ago. Not that Jonah had any intention of telling him that.

So he poured Harold the glass of whiskey from a bottle he kept around for company. Jonah hadn't drunk hard liquor for just over twenty years. Once the glass sat in front of Harold, Jonah sat at the far end of the table, just out of reach in case things got ugly.

"Heard you went and fell in love with my granddaughter," Harold spoke into the cup before taking his first drink.

Jonah had expected a different approach from the old man, so to say he was taken aback was an understatement. "Where'd you hear that?"

"My son," Harold told him before pushing the glass off to the side. "I guess that kid Travis has been coming over there every day, tryin' to make the peace. Told him he's never seen you this way about a woman. Also said you'd never throw away a lifelong friendship for something that ain't real. Doesn't make it any easier for my son, though. Now he's just gone from angry as hell to wallowing. Lost his best friend in a way he can't make sense of."

Jonah dropped his forehead to his fist and sucked in a slow breath, letting it out through his nose. He could feel his hand tremble against his skin. "I swear, I didn't mean to hurt him like this."

"I know you didn't," Harold said with a nod. "You love my son like he was your own brother. I get that. I also know you love his daughter. It was easy when she was younger. You could love her and no one would think twice 'bout it. But now that love has gone and changed into somethin' you can't explain or control, and can't ignore without hurting yourself and her."

Harold reached for the glass again and took another sip. "I ain't gonna lie to you, son, I don't like this shit. You're nearly twice her age, been in her life since day one, and I don't even know how in the hell someone can be standin' right in front of you for so damn long And have your feelings for them up and change in the blink of an eye."

The liquor across the table never looked so damn good to Jonah, but he'd resist because he didn't want to go down that rabbit hole and leave Astrid to suffer through the consequences. "I've felt it," Jonah admitted, letting the truth come out. "There've been so many moments in the past where I looked at her and saw her and not the kid she used to be. But that's all they were; moments I could force in the back of my mind and pretend never happened. Then we were dancing at the bar and holding her just felt right. Once we kissed, it was over. No more pretending.

"I know I'm too old for her. The older I get, the more obvious that's going to be. But I know I can love her in all the ways she deserves. I know I can give her a happy life. No man is good enough for Astrid, including me, but I'm going to try every day because she's worth it. Always has been."

Jonah was never a man who put much stock into fate; not until he watched Astrid fall asleep naked in his arms that first night. Now he was certain it existed. The man on the other side of the table hired a teenager he wasn't supposed to hire in that kind of business. Because of that, he met the man's son, two years older than himself, and they became fast friends. The son fell in love with the daughter of a family who owned a grocery store across the street from the repair shop, and together they made a little girl.

A girl he would die for.

A girl he would kill for.

A girl he was willing to lose everything for.

A girl who'd take all the rubble and give him something truly meaningful out of it.

A girl he was going to love every day for the rest of his life.

"I think it's 'bout time you went to my son and had a real talk with him."

Jonah nodded his agreement. It wasn't in his power to make Scott accept everything, but maybe with understanding, they'd all find some solace.