Jonah Hema Collins was kissing me like he handled most things in his life, I was coming to see: seriously and deeply and carefully.

But it was the touch of what I knew was a hand on my ankle that had me pulling back and glancing down at the body trying to scoot over onto my lap that broke our mouths apart.

It was then as I looked down at my chunky monkey that I felt the tear slide down my cheek and off my chin.

I watched with my own two eyes as a big hand, that was becoming more and more memorable to me by the day, reached up and wiped the trail off. It was after that that his other hand came up and cupped my other cheek, and Jonah said in that voice that I had tried to exorcise from my life, in that voice that felt like a warm, heavy blanket, “I missed you.”

Oh hell.

Oh, fucking, fucking hell.

He had no idea that someone could come and scrub my memories clean, and I doubted I could ever forget that moment, even if they tried to do the same a hundred times. I really did.

I pulled back at his comment, wanting to stay where I was but not wanting to stay there either because… I liked it too much. And no fucking sooner had that thought entered my head than I asked myself what the hell I was doing. Running away? Ending this sweet-ass moment because I was scared of what it might mean? Really? Me?

God, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been so disappointed in myself.

I didn’t do shit like that. That wasn’t me.

Then again, it was one thing to do something risky that only caused physical pain. Physical pain you could manage with ice, rest, and anti-inflammatories. It was the other kind of pain, the one that snuck under your skin and settled up in quiet places you didn’t go visit that often, that wasn’t so easy to get over. That was the difference, wasn’t it?

“What are you thinking?”

I glanced up at the intent face focusing on me, and just went for it because why not? Because I was scared of what he’d say? That should make me want to do it more often.

Life was short. You either took what you wanted or you didn’t. You either regretted not doing something or you regretted failing. Not doing something would keep me up at night. But it was failing that I could laugh at eventually and get over.

So I told him, because that was who I was. Who I had always wanted to be. “That I had wished you had liked me more before—”

He groaned. “I did, Lenny. I liked you heaps. I never forgot about you.”

“You didn’t let me finish,” I said. “And that I also really like you, and I was thinking that maybe I shouldn’t, but maybe I should because you might end up breaking my heart, but you might not. What do you think?”

His slow blink had me smiling at him.

“Too blunt, huh?”

His own small smile crept across that handsome, happy face. “Nah, just perfect.” He shook his head, that smile growing. “I won’t be breaking any hearts. You can take my word for it.” He held his hand out toward me. “You ready to go?”

I took it, but I didn’t stop looking at him.

Jonah’s big grin didn’t go anywhere as he picked his daughter up, dodging out of the way of a stray hand aiming straight at his beard to grab it and pull. “Let’s go, yeh? Before my mum comes up?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

He kept me company as I grabbed a pair of ankle socks and put them on, getting a pair of tennis shoes from the rack in my closet before all three of us headed downstairs. Sarah was still in the kitchen with only Peter that time, and it didn’t take me too long to pack Mo’s backpack with formula, fresh diapers, wipes, and a premade snack because I wasn’t about to lug Grandpa’s homemade food around with me since they were in glass containers.

If Sarah watched me the entire time I got Mo’s stuff together, I ignored her. The person who watched me the closest was Jonah, who looked into the bag, took out his phone, and I bet wrote notes about what was already inside, adding in what else I put in there afterward.

And if my little heart fawned all over him being so… aware… I wasn’t going to fault that bitch either. Meticulousness, giving a shit, that was attractive. Paired up with that body….

I’d swear he had been made to ring every single one of my bells.

This guy who had to fucking leave.

*

An hour later, after spending all of five minutes pushing Mo on the toddler swing before she started hanging over the edge like she was measuring the distance to the ground for a dive, we loaded her up into her stroller and decided to make a walk out of it.

I’d spotted Jonah and Sarah both taking pictures of Mo on the swing, happy and excited, talking nonstop, and acting like she didn’t have a care in the world.

Because she didn’t.

Because she had people who loved her and would shoulder every burden so she didn’t have to until it was necessary.

I couldn’t help but glance at the person walking right beside me, a big man whose size alone caught the attention of most people we passed by.

That was when he decided to glance down at me, as his mom pushed Mo in the stroller a few feet ahead of us. “What’s that look for?”

“Just admiring the weather,” I lied.

He knew because he made a face.

“You haven’t been here long enough, but this is pretty nice.” Mid-sixties and blue skies? It was.

His hand went to his head, but he didn’t exactly look like he believed me. “What’s it like during the summer?”

Shit. “Hot and a little humid.”

He didn’t even try to keep himself from wrinkling his nose.

“What? New Zealand doesn’t give out pleasant doses of humid air and heat so bad that you can burn bare thighs on leather seats?”

He was still wrinkling his nose, still being just fucking adorable, when he replied, “Ah, no. It’s not too hot or too humid compared to here, sounds like.”

“And the winter?”

I didn’t miss the pause he took, but I didn’t think much of it either because he hadn’t lived there in years, maybe he’d forgotten. “It’s pretty great in the winter too.”

All I could do was “huh” him. “Better than France in the winter?”

He flashed me a funky smile as he nodded. Then he kept going, not letting me linger. “It’s summer back home now.”

Home. That was a fucking word. I fisted my hand at my side and asked, “Do you miss it?”

He didn’t instantly nod, but when he did, it was heavy. Direct. “Yeah, I do. When I think of home that’s where it is. I’ve moved quite a bit, but that’s where my family is. Mum, Dad. Natia. Two of my brothers; the oldest lives in Aussie. My sister’s in Melbourne too. My nan, granddad, aunties, and uncles… they’re all home. I was planning on seeing them, but….” He trailed off.

He wasn’t sure what his plan was now.

Because of Mo. Me too technically.

And I couldn’t help but feel a little guilty. Just a little when I thought about how long his season was. How short his time to relax and refresh himself was. And he was staying with us now.

If it was me who didn’t get to see Grandpa Gus and Peter on the regular and only had three months to spend with them when I loved them so much, and then I didn’t get to see them when I more than likely had looked forward to doing so all year….

Family was responsibility. Family was family. At least when you had a good one. And mine might be small, but it was the best. His might be a lot bigger than mine, and I might be on the fence with how I felt about his mom, but it was clear he loved them.

And he was sacrificing his only time with them to be here.

Fuck.

But most importantly, I knew we had to have this conversation, finally. We had put it off long enough. I had put it off long enough.

But I had to go one topic at a time first.

“Jonah….” I forced a smile onto my face as I nudged his hand with the back of mine. “You should probably go see them before your vacation is over.”

The lids on his light brown eyes slowly lowered. “You want me to go?”

“I don’t want you to go, but I’d understand if you did. You said it yourself that you had plans to see them, didn’t you?”

He didn’t respond, which confirmed that yeah, he’d had plans.

Of course he would. More guilt stirred up my chest.

“They’re your family. My soul would probably die if I didn’t get to see Grandpa or Peter every once in a while. And you’ve been in France, what? At least since you were cleared to play again? So what’s that been? At least five months?” I forced another smile onto my face. “You should go. I get it. Mo will understand.”

Jonah gave me a long look over his shoulder before nudging my hand back with his. “I was planning on going home to help at my granddad’s farm,” he finally said. “It’s what I do for a few weeks every holiday, Lenny. And you’re right, family is important. Family is the most important.” He glanced at me again, the edge of his mouth tilting up as he made a noise that sounded a hell of a lot like a sigh. “But you and Mo are my family too.”