Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75699 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
“Just have to deal. The therapist at rehab called it acceptance. Fuck that.” I finally gave in to the urge to smack one of the pillows. “I don’t want to accept this ‘changed reality.’ If something on the bike breaks, we fix it. We don’t accept it.”
“I’m sorry brain injuries aren’t as easily fixable as a suspension or motor.” Jonas shrugged, his tone becoming more pragmatic while remaining sympathetic. “However, one thing I’ve learned the hard way is that acceptance doesn’t mean you like a situation. In fact, it can mean the opposite—accepting there’s not a damn thing you can do to change an outcome.”
“Oh.” Sometimes, I forgot he was a nurse and had probably seen his share of gruesome stuff. I was so wrapped up in my own problems that I’d lost perspective. “Like with patients dying, you mean?”
“That’s one example, sure.” Jonas’s gaze shifted to one of the windows, eyes taking on a faraway cast. “There’s lots of messed-up situations in this world. I’ve had plenty of chances to practice acceptance, trust me.”
“Like?” Curiosity made me shift closer to the edge of the bed.
“Maybe you’d rather have a chapter of the book?” Jonas pulled out his phone, already clicking over to his e-book app.
“Hey.” I made a frustrated noise. “I thought we were friends by now. Actual friends, not just you humoring some other friend’s kid.”
If he was only being nice to me because of my dad, he could get out now. I gave him my stoniest glare.
“We’re friends.” Fine lines appeared around Jonas’s eyes and mouth like the admission cost him. “And I don’t see you as a kid, trust me.”
“Good.” I replaced my glare with a satisfied grin. Knowing Jonas liked me and didn’t simply feel obligated made my head lighter than it had been in weeks. “If I can be honest with you, why can’t you be honest with me?”
“Because friends or not, you don’t want to hear my sob story of how I lost my family.”
“Jesus. Your whole family died?” I sucked in a breath, heart hammering. I’d expected… Hell, I wasn’t even sure. But not this. For the first time, I reached for his hand instead of waiting for him to make contact. “Fuck. I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”
“They didn’t die. They’re alive. That’s what I’ve had to accept.” Jonas spoke in a flat tone as he held tightly to my hand. “They’re gone, lost to me.”
“Because you’re gay.” I didn’t make it a question. I knew way too much about how the world worked.
“Oh, my family kicked me out long before that, but being gay pretty much nailed shut any chance of contact. Have you heard about the lost boys of Utah?”
“No.” I frowned, pretty damn sure I wasn’t going to like what I heard, so I kept right on holding his hand like that might make sharing his story easier for us both.
“My family is polygamists. I have seventeen siblings last count. As with a lot of polygamist sects, teenage boys are often kicked out so they won’t compete for the girls.”
“That’s bullshit,” I blurted out.
“Yep.” Jonas nodded curtly. “Little did they know I wasn’t anyone’s competition, but the patriarchs sent away a bunch of us the same. My mother was one of the daughters of the prophet for the sect. Didn’t make any difference. I’m one of the lucky ones, actually.”
“Being raised by a cult that then kicked you out doesn’t sound like a win.”
“Yeah, but a lot of guys like me end up drug addicts, sex workers, without housing, or worse. I camped out a few days near a high school in Provo, figuring I’d blend in. A teacher found me and hooked me up with an organization to help ex-polygamists. Luckily, I wasn’t eighteen, so I ended up in state custody for a few years.” Jonas’s expression stayed bland throughout his story, almost as if he were sharing someone else’s tale. Meanwhile, I wanted to rage on his behalf.
“Luckily? You were a kid.” I made a wounded noise, clinging to his hand more for me than him at this point.
“Being under eighteen meant getting to live in a group home for teens. That meant I had a place to stay while I graduated from an alternative high school. Having a diploma provides more opportunities than most lost boys get, and having ID and paperwork allowed me to get a part-time job working at a retirement home.”
“That’s how you decided to become a nurse?”
“Yeah. I figured I could make something of myself. Help people who needed it. Nurses at the retirement home told me I’d always have a job if I had a nursing license. I liked the sound of that.” Jonas’s tone became more wistful. God, I wanted to go back and give his younger self the biggest, cushiest house I could find.