Page 22 of Cut Off
Jonah nods.
“Look, he doesn’t hate you,” I continue. “He’s hurt and angry and grieving. All that pain has to go somewhere, and you’re the safest target.”
“That sounds like hate to me.”
“It’s not. It’s actually the opposite.” I step closer. “He wouldn’t be so angry if he didn’t care. If you truly meant nothing to him, he wouldn’t bother with the anger. He’d be indifferent.”
Hope flickering across Jonah’s features before doubt clouds it again.
“Just be yourself,” I say. “Show him you love him, even when he’s being hard to love. That kid needs stability and consistency more than anything right now.”
Jonah looks at me like I’ve handed him a roadmap through vicious terrain. Then he clears his throat and looks away, emotion making him uncomfortable as usual.
“So, desk organizer?” He’s clearly desperate to change the subject.
“Definitely the desk organizer.” I let him off the hook.
By the time we finish shopping, the cart’s piled with everything a nine-year-old boy might need for his bedroom, plus a few extras I insisted on, like actual curtains, because no child should wake up to sunlight blasting their eyeballs at six a.m. The sales associate promises delivery by tomorrow morning, which should be just in time for us to get it set up and decorated for the social worker’s visit.
As we head toward the exit, Jonah’s phone buzzes. He glances at the screen, grimaces, then answers with a terse, “Hey, Coach.”
I give himsome space, pretending to be fascinated by a display of decorative pillows while eavesdropping. From the one-sided conversation I can hear, Coach isn’t thrilled about Jonah’s sudden foray into fatherhood or his unauthorized media statement.
“Yes, sir... I understand... No, I’ll be there—tomorrow, nine a.m... Got it.” Jonah hangs up, looking like he just got slammed on the ice.
“Everything okay?” I ask, already knowing the answer.
“Peachy. Trout owner is meeting with me and Coach tomorrow. Probably to fire me.”
“He can’t fire you for having a kid,” I say, though I have no idea if that’s actually true. Labor laws for professional athletes are not my specialty.
“No, but he can tell Coach to bench me,” Jonah says as we exit the store into the crisp air. “And I was already on thin ice before all this.”
We walk to his SUV in silence, both lost in thought. As he loads our smaller purchases into the trunk since the furniture will be delivered, I check my phone again. “Update on video. Comments are mostly positive. Lots of ‘brave dad’ and ‘stepping up’ type stuff. Cool cool cool.”
Jonah grunts, but I can tell his mind is elsewhere. We climb into the car, and after he starts it, he sits, hands gripping the wheel.
He turns to look at me. “I need your help.”
“You have it. That’s why we just spent a small fortune on bedroom furniture.”
“No, I mean...” He pauses, nerves pinching on his face. “I need you to move in with me and Eli.”
I laugh. “Right. Because that wouldn’t be weird at all.”
“I’m serious, Zoe.” His expression confirms it. “The social worker called and said my case would be much stronger ifI had reliable, live-in childcare support, especially with my travel schedule.”
“You want me to be your nanny?” I blink at him, trying to process this impossible turn of events.
“I need a support system to win my custody case.” His words come faster now. “You’re out of a job. That apartment over the laundromat you live in can’t be safe—”
“Hey, the dryer lint fires only happen, like, once a month. And the attempted break-ins have stopped since they put in bars.”
“—I’ll pay you well. And Eli seems to like you.”
My brain tries to keep up. Part of me is flattered that he trusts me with something so important. Another part is terrified at the thought of living with Jonah Holt, the man who’s always had this inexplicable pull on me.
“Look, I appreciate the offer,” I begin, “but I need to focus on finding another job. I can’t just—”
