One Little Kiss (3 page)

I feel like I’m losing something I didn't even know I had.

“Don’t apologize to me Jonas Sutton.” I stop when I hear the anger in my tone. I considered reining it in but I just can't pretend. It isn’t in me anymore. After the dumping by the cheaterface, I can’t drown my own emotions anymore. Not when they are this important. I let my voice carry into the quiet, loud with my emotion. “This sucks and you’re being gallant and brave and so goddamn calm about this whole thing!”

And then they began in earnest. Hot tears. I couldn’t have stopped them if I tried.

Jonas stares at me, his own expression twisting into one of concern and pain. I suck in a deep breath, trying to calm down, knowing I am making him feel worse.

“Jonas.” It’s the only word I can form coherently at that moment but every ounce of what I am feeling is levied on those two little syllables. He reacts, hands moving again to cup my face as he leans in and takes my mouth in a kiss more compassionate than carnal.

It is warm, wet, and soft. Our tongues touch tentatively, cautiously. This isn’t about sex; it’s something deeper. It’s us—Jonas and Leighton. We began this dance with one little kiss at the first freshman mixer in a dark corner of the deck of the student union. I was “Red” that night, long before he knew my last name. Before he knew I was the sister of his roommate. Before he knew about the leukemia. I wasn’t ready for what bloomed between us then and neither was he. Now? I don’t know but it doesn’t scare me anymore. Well, it does. But only in the good way.

I’m not sure if I can expand to accommodate what Jonas would bring to my life with his energy, his vivacity, his joy. I’ve lived a half-life up until this point, tip-toeing around like the cancer would come back if I lived too large. But I am moving on, opening up and embracing my gift of being cancer free. That’s what this trip is about and the job with the philharmonic.

Me. Living large. Finally.

One of us moans, low and deep and the kiss flashes hotter for a moment. Teeth clash as he dives in deeper and I grab his jacket and pull him closer. But just that fast it is over. Jonas slides his mouth over my cheek until he can whisper in my ear.

“I’m not brave. I’m not gallant. I’m not calm. I just can’t change it.”

We stand there for a few moments, the snow covering us with its cocoon of white. With the street deserted it’s like we are the only two people in the world. There’s nobody around to hear me but I whisper anyway.

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to travel and see the places I want to paint while I still can.” He shudders out a breath and a laugh as he pulls away, wiping at his face. Snow or tears, I can’t tell. “My dad is freaking out but my Grandpa intervened. I just can’t sit in class and act like I don't have this countdown clock over my head. The doctors say it’s usually years before I lose all my vision but each second feels like one that is wasted.”

“I get that,” I say, brushing the wetness off my own cheeks, hoping I don't look like I’ve been bawling in the street. When I look at him I smile as much as I can. He is doing exactly what I would do, what I
did
through all those hospital visits and treatments. It’s always easier to be brave for other people. I wasn’t going to bring him down but one thing needed to be said. Just so he would know. “I’ll miss you.”

He smiles back, tossing me the one where he only quirks up the right side of his mouth. It’s sexy as hell and he knows it. It’s his “got the world by the balls” grin and it’s totally Jonas.

“Of course you will, Red. I’ll miss you too.”

He reaches out for my hand and leads me over the last of the distance to the pub. The noise from inside spills out onto the street even through the closed door. The rumble is loud and as Jonas tugs the handle next to a sign that reads “Flanagan’s Pub”, it reaches epic proportions, a wave of laughter and clinking glasses.

We get inside and it’s packed to the gills, probably in violation of the fire code.

“Oh shit. That smells so good,” Jonas says.

And he is so friggin’ right. It is heaven. Really. This is what the hereafter should smell like. “I hope they have room for us because if I don't eat soon, I might become a cannibal.”

“I’m going to pass on the obvious joke there.”

I realize what I said and what he meant and while it was hilarious it brings back an altogether different kind of memory. In fact, my belly tightens as I remember being on my knees, his cock in my mouth. I’d loved it. The power to get him off. His pure enjoyment in the act. The sounds he made. The sting of his fingers clenched in my hair. The way he wanted to keep eye contact the whole time. Now,
that
was heaven.

I am saved from having to figure out something to say by a large, red-haired man approaching us with a big smile on his face.

“I’m Ryan Flanagan the owner. We’ve got two seats if you don’t mind sharing a table.”

Jonas flicks a glance in my direction and I nod in agreement. “Works for us.”

“Follow me.”

Jonas continues to hold my hand as we make our way in between the crowded tables. Everyone smiles at us as we pass, brothers and sisters in arms as we endure the plight of the stranded. And the beer flowing freely doesn't hurt either.

Ryan points to two seats on one side of a table in the middle of the pub, across from two guys who look to be in their early thirties. Both handsome, smiling and holding almost empty pint glasses. Quick introductions all around as we take off our coats and we learn that they are Peter and Gabe Scott, newlyweds, and on their way to the warmth of Key West for their honeymoon.

Ryan brings us up to speed. “Taps are open but the kitchen is limited. We’ve got stew or chili with homemade bread. When I saw how many people we’d have to feed I went for warm and filling instead of a full menu.”

“A beer and stew for me,” I say and Jonas signals for two.

“Coming up,” Ryan says and then pauses, looking at the hard case Jonas is draping over the back of his chair. “You play?”

“She does,” Jonas points at me. “Like an angel.”

“You know anything Irish?” Ryan asks.

I open my mouth to respond but “Quick Draw Sutton” beats me to it yet again. “She’s going to the Celtic Music Festival in Dublin to perform by invitation.”

“If you want to play a couple of songs, just hop up there.” He nods towards a smallish stage to the right and then heads back to the kitchen.

“You’re a musician?” Gabe asks, leaning forward in interest. His hand is clasped with his husbands on top of the table and I realize that I miss the feel of Jonas’ fingers intertwined with mine. We’re sitting close and I can feel his warmth in the places where our bodies touch from shoulder, to hip, to thigh and knee. I lean into him and he nudges back.

“Yes. I am.” I start to tell him that I’m just a student but then I remember the contract I signed two weeks ago with the symphony. “I’m actually the second seat violin with the Alkan Philharmonic...or I will be after I graduate in May.”

“That’s amazing,” Gabe says, his face lighting up like the music fan I suspect he is. “I saw them twice last year. I’d love to get season tickets one day.”

“The next time you make it to a performance, come see me backstage,” I offer with a smile. Excitement about the job zings through me and I fight the urge to open my email and look at the letter offering me the position again. I still expect them to take it back and will probably feel that way until my ass is actually in the seat at the first rehearsal.

Conversation stops when Ryan brings our food and drinks. For a few moments, we are silent as we tuck into our meal, our tablemates looking at us with barely disguised laughter.

“We were hungry,” Jonas says in apology for our terrible manners and takes a sip from his pint. “Lunch was a long ass time ago.”

“You’ll be traveling a lot with the Alkan group,” Peter says, bringing the conversation back to my new job.

I nod and can’t help the grin that takes over my face. “I know. But I’d be lying if I didn’t say it doesn’t scare me a little. But this trip is my dry run. I’ve reserved a car and plan to just drive around a few days. Let the road and the music tell me where to go.”

I’ve never done anything like this before and it is exciting and terrifying. Freeing.

“You aren’t well-traveled?” Peter inquires.

“No. Not at all really.” I grab my pint and take a sip before continuing. “I was very sick for a few years. When we weren’t off to see a specialist we stayed close to home, close to my medical team.”

I think back on those years. The somber drives to the appointments and the even darker ones on the return home. Vacations were taken but all under the unspoken umbrella that it might be the last time.

“You’re okay now?” Gabe asks, bringing me back to the pub and the conversation.

“Yes. Six years in remission and doing fine.” I turn and catch Jonas’ eye and I see he is already watching me, his smile tender and sad. This is one night of fucked up revelations and I lean into him and feel his left hand under the table, lightly brushing against my thigh. Silent encouragement, a connection, and so much more. “I’m ready for the next adventure.”

Gabe and Peter nod, thinking I’m just talking about the trip but I’m not. I tear my gaze away from Jonas because I don’t want him to see what crazy shit is pinging around in my head right now. I think back to his revelation in the street and the grief that surges up from my soul makes my hand shake as I lift my glass to my lips once more.

I’ve spent four years telling myself that this thing with Jonas is the product of an overly romanticized night involving a girl away from home for the first time and a sweet, sexy, smooth-talking boy who made her feel desirable every time he called her “Red”. But I think I might be wrong.

I am Red.

His Red.

And I love him.

All the time I wasted with Brian was marking time, passing time with someone who was safe and acceptable and fit in the box I put him in. It’s no wonder he moved on to somebody who really wanted him and left behind the role of understudy to the lead actor in my little life drama.

Yes. I was devastated when he broke it off with me but I figured out a while ago that it was all ego. I stung with the hurt of him finally figuring me out and calling me on it. And who was the person I ran to?

Jonas.

I hadn’t given it a second thought at the time but I’ve done a lot of second-guessing since then because I didn’t want to think about what it really meant. And I don’t know if it’s the fact that he’s going blind or the fact that I’m finally getting up the nerve to live, but I want my future to include the man sitting beside me.

But I can’t forget the fact that he’s avoided me since our night together. He’s figuring shit out in his head. I get it, I really do. Learning that your body is not something you can control and it can turn on you at a moment’s notice plays serious fuckery with your brain.

So, I do what I always do when the floor falls out from under me and I need something to help me land safely.

I grab Wonder Woman, walk to the little platform and start to play.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jonas

She’s killing me.

Seriously. Every note of the song she plays is cutting in deep. I know she’s upset, the news I delivered was hard for her to take because she cares. Leighton and I have always existed in this “Will they? Won’t they?” alternative universe but we’re friends and my illness will impact her deeply. But I also saw the look she laid on me before she stood up to play and I remember the kiss out on the street and suddenly everything is really complicated.

The pub is silent, only the rattle of dishes and the low-level murmurings of the wait staff as they continue to serve the crowd. Leighton is standing on the tiny stage, eyes closed, her bow moving in a gorgeous sweep across the strings as she brings the notes to living, breathing, shimmering life. I’ve painted her like this before. That space where she exists when she’s performing is golden hued and warm. Nothing can touch her there and she is breathtakingly beautiful.

I have at least a dozen canvases to prove it.

“Your girlfriend is brilliant,” Gabe whispers as he leans across the table. “I’ve never heard anyone play like that.”

“She’s played since she was three or four years old. She’s on a full music scholarship at school.” I pause and then correct him. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

I ignore the pang in my chest when I say the words out loud.

“Really? I just thought…” Gabe lets his words fade into the music as he settles back in his chair.

The plaintive tune is sad and deep and aching with every drop of her emotions and I know she’s playing for me even before our gazes meet across the room. I shiver, the sensation flashing down my spine, my arms, along my scalp. Leighton sways, stuttering a note and I realize she feels it too. Fuck. This is nuts. I won’t survive the night at this rate.

She ends on a sweetly singular note that seems to stretch into the stillness until it fades away on an echo. The crowd is silent, suspended with the last fragments of the sound and then they blow up in applause. She breaks eye contact with me to smile at her audience, dipping her head in thanks as they add a few wolf whistles to the clamor. She laughs and tosses back her fall of auburn hair, lifts Wonder Woman to her shoulder and stomps out a heavy, quick beat on the floor before launching into a lively Celtic song made for a pub crowd.

I exhale the breath I was holding and shake it off. Grabbing the fresh beer Ryan has placed on the table, I take a long swallow, hoping the alcohol will take the edge off.

“The first time Peter looked at me like that, I ran,” Gabe says, exchanging a rueful smile with his husband.

“I did not follow him,” Peter adds. “But I did the next time. And the next.”

“It’s complicated,” I say, unable to find a word to describe it better. I was not an English major.

“It always is when it’s intense,” Peter observes.

I stare at them, wondering just how much of my crap they want to hear. Fuck it. This night is already beyond weird. I can’t talk to Landon about this. She’s his sister. I might as well unload my life on complete strangers.