Sweet Liar (Candy #2)(52)

She agreed, telling him any kind of food was fine with her, oblivious to the new tension between Jonah and me.

“Sure, anything,” I chimed in, but I wasn’t hungry. I just wanted to go home.

Since we’d left it to him, Jonah decided to stop at the all-night deli in Claymore for subs. As he drove, I could feel him glancing at me in the backseat through the rearview mirror. I pretended not to notice as flashes of our kiss played in my head, making me feel restless and flushed, sending my emotions into a tailspin.

When he pulled into my driveway, I glanced at the mirror again, and he lifted his eyes at the same time. For a moment, we just stared at each other. My heart picked up speed, and I ached deep inside.

I must have been denying how I felt, because after what Jonah had done, I should hate him. But I didn’t hate him. I couldn’t. I wanted him still, and he knew that. His plan to make me jealous worked, and it took all my willpower and self-respect not to fall into his arms at the bowling alley.

I couldn’t help thinking that other than my parents, no one had ever cared about me the way Jonah seemed to, and throwing that away would be something I’d regret. But I understood myself well enough to know I might do it anyway.

When he lied to me, it fractured something inside me. The broken pieces were sharp, and they cut each time he got close.

***





I hit Send on my text.





Me: Remember Jonah’s friend, Heather? She thinks you’re funny and cute. Wants you to have her number. Should I give it to her?





It took about three seconds for Theo to reply.





Theo: What?!? Are you messing with me?

Me: No.

Theo: You are, aren’t you? I’ll text her and look like an idiot.

Me: Not messing with you.

Theo: Promise?

Me: I promise.

Theo: Does she know?





I figured he was asking if she knew about his decision to stop treatment.





Me: Yeah, she knows.





There was a long pause before he responded. I could almost hear how hard he was thinking.





Theo: Fine. But what do I say to her? How do I open? If she thinks I’m funny, I’d better be freaking funny. Not sure it’s worth all this pressure.

Me: Oh my God.

Theo: Kidding. Thanks. I liked her too.

Me: Don’t thank me. It was her idea. Whatever you do, don’t open with one of your cheesy pickup lines.

Theo: Is your daddy a drug dealer? Because you’re so dope.

Me: Right. Don’t say that. In fact, never say it again.





Theo signed off and I put down the phone, hoping I hadn’t made a mistake. I was tempted not to tell him, but Heather seemed like she’d be good for him, and I certainly hadn’t been much of a friend to him lately.

After killing as much time in my bedroom as I reasonably could, I walked into the kitchen and smelled the remnants of dinner in the air, the tangy scent of the Italian subs we’d eaten. It was early, just after ten when Heather left. That was also when I disappeared into my room to text Theo, but I couldn’t hide in there all night.

Jonah was staying over again. He didn’t say anything about it and neither did I, but it became obvious when he didn’t leave after dinner. It made me wonder if he knew something about his father that I didn’t. I figured when his father said I had the weekend to tell Jonah, I would be safe for at least that long.

Needing to stay busy, I finished cleaning up in the kitchen while Jonah was out in the living room, rummaging through his bag. Eventually, when it was clear neither of our tasks could really be taking so long, Jonah wandered into the kitchen dressed in sweats and a T-shirt he’d changed into.

Pulling open the refrigerator, he stood looking inside for a moment before closing it again. “You’ve got no food in the house. I thought you were going to order some.”

I said nothing because I didn’t hear a question in there.

“You’re not cooking for yourself?”

That was a question, and I supposed I couldn’t ignore it. “No.” After wiping down the table for the fifth or sixth time, I tossed the sponge into the sink.

“Why not?”

Sighing, I faced him. “I don’t know. I just haven’t felt like it.”

“Maybe if you tried, you’d feel—”

“Better?” I finished for him. “Please don’t keep trying to make me feel better. There’s only one thing that will do that.”

His jaw flexed and frustration flickered in his eyes.

The kiss we’d shared had thrown me off-balance. The good place we’d reached, the unspoken truce, had turned back into tension. He wanted me to trust him and I couldn’t, no matter how nice he was or how much he thought he was helping me.

“I had this crazy idea about you,” I said. It was a thought at the back of my mind—the one way he could earn my trust back if he really wanted to.

His brows arched curiously.

“I thought you might offer to run away with me to keep me safe from your father.”

His face fell. “We can’t run. He’ll find us.”

“And you don’t want to run.”