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“Can you come get me, Jon? Will you take me home?”
Those had been her words two nights ago when Jon had picked up his phone after midnight.
“I know it’s a lot to ask but…”
“I’m coming.”
He would always come and get her. He didn’t want her to ever doubt it.
But, he’s nervous now that they’re here. Sansa makes him a little nervous. She always has. She was never like the others, never practically a sibling growing up. He’s always been aware that they were something other to each other, something that went beyond family ties.
Right or wrong, he’s been more than half in love with her since he was seventeen. He’s sure she never knew it which is fine. It’s better that way. That otherness makes things awkward enough. No need to make it worse.
“I know it’s not what you’re, um…used to.”
Should he have said that? Shit, he probably shouldn’t have said that. She left a mansion behind but that wasn’t all she left.
But, he’s looking at his spare bedroom through her eyes with its dull paint and old carpet, trying to imagine what she’s thinking.
His place is small; two bedrooms, one bath, laundry out in the garage and a miniscule kitchen. He saw the kitchen at her place in the Vale. His entire house could fit inside it. He’s saving for something bigger, something nicer but he’s still paying off grad school and his current teaching position at the community college doesn’t pay much.
“There’s more important things than big kitchens, Jon,” she’d said when he’d apologized for its size on the way here.
She was wearing a four carat diamond when she’d answered the door last night. She left it sitting on the marble counter of that gourmet kitchen. A clear message that they’re done, she’s done, she’s not going back. Jon’s going to do everything he can to keep her from going back.
She cracks open the closet and peeks inside. It’s no walk-in and probably couldn’t hold a fourth of her wardrobe…if she’d brought more than one suitcase with her when they’d left.
When she turns back around, she’s almost smiling. “This is perfect, Jon.”
No, it’s not but Sansa’s always courteous. “I’m going to make some dinner if you want to get settled and join me in a bit.”
“Sure. I think I might shower real quick if you don’t mind.”
“Of course.”
It was a long car ride, a very long, very tense car ride from the Vale to White Harbor but they’d talked. Mostly, she’d asked him to talk. He’s not great at just talking but with Sansa he can open up given a little time. Fifteen hours on the road had been plenty of time to open up.
He’d asked where they were headed just once past the Neck, turn east or keep going north.
“East. Take me to your home in White Harbor if you don’t mind. I’m not ready to…explain it yet.”
Jon wonders how they’ll take the news that she called him and not them, that she came home with him when she was leaving her fiancé.
Her graduation party six years ago, both of them a little tipsy, a kiss and then another and another, completely unaware of the smiles dying all around them. Robb’s shout, his aunt’s anger and his uncle’s silence. It had been awkward alright. Had they been happier for Sansa to be with a rich guy who cheated on her than her cousin?
And were those kisses from six years ago why Sansa had called him?
“I made soup and grilled cheese,” he calls over his shoulder when he hears her coming down the hall about ten minutes after the shower shuts off.
“Everything I need.”
He smiles as she comes up behind him, pleased that he’s guessed correctly on what comfort food to offer. He can smell the fresh scent of his soap and her shampoo, that same papaya and vanilla scent she always used which he’d inhaled like an intoxicant when they’d been teens.
She’s hugging herself and her chin’s trembling when he turns around. His arms open automatically and she’s clinging to him, her shuddering sigh squeezing his chest, making it hard to breathe. They’re slotted together like two puzzle pieces, perfect, and he wishes the circumstances were different.
Her lips brush his cheek, right above his beard near the corner of his mouth. “Thank you. Thank you for everything. I’m sorry to…”
“Anytime, Sansa. And don’t say sorry. You can stay as long as you want.” Forever if you like.
She nods and takes down two bowls for him to ladle out their soup. They sit down together at the table shoved in the corner of his little kitchen so that only two chairs are really usable.
She lays her hand on the table, palm up, before they start eating. He covers it with his own. “I guess you’re wondering why I called you and not Arya or my parents.”
“A little but I figure you can tell me about it when you’re ready.”
“Right there, that’s why.” He raises his eyebrows in question. “I knew you wouldn’t push and wouldn’t fly off the handle either.”
He’d wanted to though. When she’d called, he’d driven all those hours to the Vale with his gut churning and his mind thinking about all the ways he’d like to hurt that guy.
Their hands are still linked. “It’s been over nearly six months to be honest…maybe before he ever gave me the ring and told me to move in after I caught him the first time. I just didn’t know how to walk away then.”
“I’m glad when you were ready to walk away you called me.”
“Me, too but then again, I knew that I’d call you someday. I just had to work up my courage first.”
“Yeah?”
“Uh huh. You’ve always felt like home.”
“Because we’re family?”
“No because you’re you, Jon.”