Jonah (Chicago Blaze 7)

Thinking about it sparks a little flare of jealousy as I slide into my Uber. I showed the queens that picture of Jonah because I’m proud he’s my boyfriend. At least, I would be, if he actually was. Jonah’s a good man, and he’s a lot more than his looks. I don’t know why my first impression of him as pretty was so off.

I’m tired. I let myself into the apartment, lock up behind me and fall onto the couch, not bothering to change clothes or take off my makeup.

When I wake up, I’m groggy. I go to the kitchen for water and look at the clock on the stove—4:13 a.m. But I never heard Kai come in.

I ignore the water and go to his room to check his bed. Still perfectly made, with his menagerie of decorative pillows in place.

Maybe he texted to tell me he’s staying with someone. I go check my phone, but there are no messages. I text him to ask if he’s okay.

I get my water and sit down on the couch to drink it, wondering where Kai could be. I know he can take care of himself, but he was so drunk when I left him at the bar. I shouldn’t have done that. I should have gone out with him, just to keep an eye on him.

I wait for a return text, but my phone stays silent. This is the worst feeling, worrying about someone and being helpless to do anything about it. I don’t even know where they were going clubbing at, how can I even look for him?

After fifteen minutes, I look up the number for the Chicago Police Department. Maybe he was found lying in a gutter somewhere with no ID. I have to start at least making calls to look for him.

I’m on hold with the CPD when I hear a key turning in the apartment door. My shoulders sink with relief, because it has to be Kai.

When he walks in, though, I tense all over once again. Kai has a black eye and what looks like road rash on one side of his face. One of his arms is in a sling. His makeup and lashes are gone, and his expression is forlorn as he limps into the apartment.

“Kai! Oh my god, what happened?” I meet him in the doorway and wrap an arm around his waist for support.

Dee is standing outside the apartment door, still in costume but looking exhausted.

“Come in,” I say.

“No, I’m going home.” Dee sounds defeated; the exuberant queen from hours ago is gone. “He was attacked outside the club we were at. I took him to the hospital to get checked out. Sprained arm and lots of cuts and bruises, but okay otherwise.”

“Why didn’t you call me?” I implore Kai.

“They smashed up my phone,” he says, his tone flat.

Kai won’t even look at me. My heart breaks into a million pieces as I mentally kick myself for not being with him tonight.

“I’m so sorry,” I say, near tears. “Who did this to you?”

“Just let him sleep,” Dee says gently, holding out a paper bag. “That’s what he needs right now. This is the prescription they gave him.”

“Are you okay?” I ask Dee.

“Yeah. I was inside the club. I’m just…so fucking tired. Of all of it. Why are people so cruel?”

I wish I knew what to say to that, but I don’t.

“Thank you,” I tell Dee. “You’re a great friend.”

With a weak smile, Dee walks away. All that infectious joy has been stolen, and I despise whoever did this—both to Kai and to Dee.

I close and lock the door, then take Kai to his bedroom. I help him get changed into a T-shirt and sweats, which is slow and painful with his arm in a sling.

Once he’s settled under the covers, I smooth a hand over his hair and say, “Get some rest. You’re safe. I’ll be right here.”

He nods and turns away. I can’t see his expression in the darkened room, but I don’t have to. Kai is devastated. He rarely leaves his apartment or lets his guard down like he did tonight, and this is what he got when he was brave enough to try.

I pull his bedroom door closed and head for the bathroom to take a shower. There’s no way I’m going back to sleep. As soon as Logan West gets into his office, he’s getting a call from me.Chapter FourteenJonah“That guy straight up needs his ass kicked, and the ref needs a fucking eye exam,” Rey rants into the other end of the phone.

“I agree, babe.”

“He swung his stick at you! And you were just standing there doing your job.”

“It’s called slashing. It’s a penalty when the ref sees it.”

Rey gets louder. “How did he miss that? What else was he looking at? It’s literally his fucking JOB to be watching the action in the game!”