Free The Donor by Nikki Rae Page B

looks like.”
    “It looks like you're kicking me out,” I tried to make it sound like a joke, but it wasn't funny at all.
    His eyes lowered and then met mine again. “I know,” he said. “But let me explain.”
    I crossed my arms. It wasn't an angry gesture; I was just suddenly very, very cold.
    Jonah seemed to be deep in thought, trying to figure out the best way to approach the topic. He inched his way across the small space between us until he leaned against the same wall as me. I wanted to grab his hand, to feel it in mine before everything came apart, but I held back.
    “I don't want you to leave,” he said softly. I noticed he was staring at our hands between us, like he was fighting the same urge I was. “I’m so sorry you woke up to everything the way it was. I can imagine what you thought.” A small smile stuck to his face, but it didn't meet his eyes.
    “You're not kicking me out?” I asked, heart thudding in my chest.
    He shook his head. “Not unless you want to go home.”
    I took a deep breath. It still didn't make any sense. My room was empty, the girl with the expensive shoes... Zoey .
    “But you don't want me to be your donor anymore.” I said. “You want me to stay, but you don't need me.”
    Jonah finally took my hand and brought it to rest in his lap. He stared at my fingers like they were twigs about to snap. “I want to show you something,” he said. “But I don't want to scare you.”
    I bit my lip. I didn’t know what to say to that. “What is it?” I asked.
    “It’s better if you see,” he said. “Less of a chance you’ll storm out as I’m trying to explain.”
    I wanted to laugh at his casual tone, but couldn’t find the strength.
    Jonah slowly stood, taking me with him. I followed him downstairs. We stopped in the hall, where he handed me my coat and we slipped on our shoes without a word. I was about to put on my worn out flats when he stopped me, showing me to a pair of brown snow boots sitting next to them. “I hope you don't mind,” he said. “I figured you’d want to leave the house once in a while without getting frostbite.”
    I smiled half-heartedly. “How am I supposed to top myself now?” I mumbled in a joke. He showed me the same smile.
    We walked the short distance to his car in the dark, snow crunching under our feet. I decided that I would miss snow. I liked how clean it was. How even when it was old and dirty, it still looked like you could wipe it good as new and start over.
    It was already warm when I sat against the leather but Jonah asked me if I was cold anyway. I shook my head. He placed his hand on the gear shift between us and it was comforting. It reminded me of when he picked me up at the airport. I felt like I had come so far in such a short amount of time and I wasn't even sure what the goal was anymore. If there even was one.
    “It's only a short ride,” Jonah said when the silence stretched on.
    “Where are we going?” I asked.
    “I'd rather it speak for itself,” he said.
    “That's exactly what a serial killer would say.” This time, I felt more at ease. It actually sounded like a joke.
    “You don't trust me?” he asked, half-joking, half-serious.
    I paused. “Of course I do.” There was no humor this time. “I'm still here, right?”
    He let go of the shifter and placed a hand on my knee. It sent little tingles of warmth throughout my entire body and I was afraid that my cheeks had become flushed. “Good to hear,” he said.
     
    ***
     
    A snowflake hits the window to my left and melts almost instantly, the water dripping in a stream until it looks like it was never there at all.
    I can’t think about what my future holds now. The future is such a strange place to think about. It doesn't really exist, when I think about it. It's just a place we make up to feel better about what we're doing now. So it seems like we’re actually working towards something. We're so concerned with getting to the future that we never