Reckless Again (BWWM)

1. Breath

*Hello. Thank you for reading Reckless Again. This is like my third time rewriting this story but I think I got it right this time so yeah.*
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Reckless Again
Chapter One: Breath

Tipp Rock, PA

Sunday, January 27

My eyes shot open.

There was someone at my door, banging. The sound of heavy rainfall did little to muffle it, and I was scared to go check who it was.

My sister, Elaina, was down the hall, but she slept like the dead so I knew the noise wouldn't wake her.

I'd made sure, before going to bed, to lock all the doors in my house, knowing robberies were a sad reality for many people in Tipp Rock. Locking the doors wouldn't do much to prevent anything from happening, but I was smart enough to take the precautionary measures unlike some of the older people who'd grown up here. They swore Tipp was the same town it was back in—well, only God knows when.

Luckily, I lived in the better part of town, but I was still cautious, especially when I had unexpected visitors visiting at ungodly hours of the night.

Crawling out of bed, I felt around for my robe on the floor that I'd previously discarded before going to bed, and left my room to investigate.

I made it downstairs, grabbed a knife from my kitchen, and held it up in front of me.

It started to rain even harder as I approached the door. The porch lights came on, and I saw the silhouette of a man.

I jumped when he knocked again, causing the knife to almost slip out of my hand.

With a trembling hand resting on my chest, I tried to find my voice.

"Who is it?" I called out.

"Ella, it's Jonas."

The words were slightly muffled, but I'd heard them loud and clear.

Oh my God.

Jonas Grant was standing behind my front door.

In a split second, all the emotions I'd fought so hard to keep at bay were rushing back. The sound of my heart pounding in my ears became louder than the rainfall.

Behind that door was my first love and my first heartbreak.

My hand holding the knife dropped to my side and I opened the door.

There stood Jonas Grant soaking wet, no umbrella, no coat, no hat, no gloves. Just a gray sweater that was probably a lighter shade prior to the rain but now appeared darker. Strands of hair were glued to his beautiful face, and I wanted nothing more than to just reach out and move them, letting my fingers linger for a moment.

But I refrained from doing so and stepped aside to let him come in. I closed the door behind him then turned to face him.

He looked twice as good as I remembered—still tall and a lot more muscular than he had been ten years ago.

God, even soaking wet he still looked good.

"Jonas, what the hell are you doing here? You scared the living daylights out of me."

Ignoring my question and obvious distress, he pointed to the knife in my hand. "Is that a knife?" He questioned.

I put my hand behind my back in a pointless attempt to hide it. "No. I just—I thought you were a robber or something."