Page 20 of The Lucky One
“Oh, Jon,” I whispered. “I always knew you had it in you.”
He leaned into my touch, his eyes filled with emotion. “You were the only one who believed in me. I owe you my life, Little German.”
“No!” I protested, pulling him into an embrace. “You accomplished this all on your own. When you set your mind to something, you give it your all. Your journey to sobriety is your own doing.”
We held each other in a comforting silence. His body was trembling. Eventually he gently pulled away.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t reach out while I was there,” he said, a little chuckle escaping his lips. “I tried to run away to see you but they caught me at the bus station.”
“You didn’t!”
“I did.” He flushed. “You make me act crazy, Little German.”
Jon Denson was really here with me now. Being this... wonderful. Choosing him was the risky choice, but it was the only right one.
“I was so lost without you,” I confessed, tears of joy starting in my eyes. “But now that you’re here, I’m fine again too. Really, you have no idea how crushed I was without you. I barely left the house.”
I leaned in for another kiss, but Jon went for a quick peck on the cheek instead. I crooked my head to the side. It wasn’t like Jon to deny a physical touch. It was his love language, while mine were words of affirmation, which was why his poems made me fall for him even harder. “Did I say something wrong?”
He took a few moments to respond, gazing up at the stars. “In rehab I learned a lot about what it takes to be in a healthy relationship with myself—and others. And the thing is”—inhaling deeply—“I don’t want you to feel fine because of me. I want you to feel fine on your own.”
That stung. Life without him hadn’t been great. I had been a depressed wreck, bringing back memories of a time in Germany when I had needed professional help, thanks to Papa, Richard and my so-called friends. I gazed out at the empty street ahead. “You sound like Caroline,” I murmured.
“Who’s Caroline?”
“My counselor.” I rested my head against the seat and rubbed my elbows. “Everyone tries to tell me to not be dependent on you, Jon. And it’s not like I’m trying to be. It’s just... your happiness means more to me than my own.”
His brows furrowed. “That’s wrong, though.”
“I know!” A spark of anger ignited. “But you made me addicted to you, Jon! Getting off the drugs was nothing compared to not being with you. I was so empty without you, I...”
I didn’t want us to fight on his first night back. I knew fighting was normal, but no matter how often I reminded myself of that, I still didn’t like it.
“... I didn’t know if you would come back to me.” I wiped my eyes with the sleeve of my—or rather, his—sweatshirt.
“Hey.” Jon took my hands and placed them in his. “I’m here now, and I’m not leaving again. I’ll make up for all the lows, remember?”
“Okay,” I whispered.
He brushed the tears from my cheeks. “Even when you cry you’re fucking beautiful.”
“Stop it!” I laughed, pushing a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
“There it is, the smile that keeps me sane.” He leaned in for another kiss, and we lost ourselves in each other, feeling the high, until I found myself cradled in his lap with my body pressed onto his.
Jon caught his breath. “There are new rules, hm?”
I sighed. “Yep. No drugs, no lies and no sex until I’m on birth control. My mom doesn’t want me to take any risks, and I agreed.”
He swallowed. “Please tell me you’ve got an appointment for that.”
“Not yet, but Gena wants to call someone on Monday.”
“Holy Scheiße, Little German,” he murmured, resting his head on my shoulder and kissing my collarbone. I giggled at his use of the German word for shit.
He looked up at me with a puppy dog look. “For once it’s my patience being tested.”
“Not only yours,” I said with a smirk, and promptly went in for his neck and sucked at it, tasting his skin, making him groan. I loved his groan; it made me feel so sexy and powerful.