Just Jonathan by Donna Scuvotti

Author:Donna Scuvotti [Scuvotti, Donna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Donna Scuvotti
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

I must have sat there deep in thought for at least fifteen minutes. So many emotions were running wild in my head, crashing in to each other. I couldn’t make heads or tails of what I was feeling. I desperately wanted to believe him, but I wasn’t sure I did. I knew I still loved him—that was for certain—but I had been hurt emotionally, physically and mentally. I didn’t want to drop my guard now and end up being let down again. Detoxing wasn’t a walk in the park. I had done my research, and, knowing my Dad, I’m sure he had as well. I needed to digest this, but not here. I quietly walked upstairs and listened at his closed door. I heard him talking to himself. “Dad, it’s just Jonathan. I got your note and will honor your wishes by letting you be. I’m fine and am staying with a friend. I will come check on you later.” His only response was a raspy croak that sounded like “Be safe,” but I couldn’t be entirely sure. I grabbed clothes, jammed as much as I could into my backpack and locked the door behind me.

Luke was sitting, patiently waiting, in the car, with the heater still running so that I didn’t freeze when I got in. Always the thoughtful guy. “Are you okay?” he asked. Surprisingly, I wasn’t ready to share the letter. I needed the time to myself to try to decipher its meaning before I talked openly about it. “I’m fine. I would prefer to not talk right now, if that’s okay,” I answered, on the verge of tears. He nodded his consent and told me when I was ready, he would be more than willing to listen. We rode back to his house in uncomfortable silence. I could feel that he knew something was up but was nice enough not to pry.

The rest of the night was a wash. We made small talk, but I wasn’t in the mood and asked if it was okay if I retired early, after eating the hot-fudge sundae he had made with whipped cream and a cherry on top. He offered me the loft, but I declined and said I would rather sleep by the fire. I knew I probably wouldn’t get much sleep, and I wasn’t wrong. The letter was weighing heavily on my mind. On one hand, I was ecstatic that he had taken the time to pour his heart out—and I didn’t doubt that he meant what he’d written—but I wasn’t willing to let my guard down just yet. I had a big heart and still loved him, but I couldn’t forget how he had hit me or turned his back on me when I needed him most. I know my Mom would want me to welcome him with open arms and pick up where we’d left off before she died, but I wasn’t sure I could do that. Not yet, anyway. He would need to put

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