by K. S. Adkins
My gasp had them both turning to look at me. I saw his wince and notice he didn’t bother to correct him either because Julian was telling the truth. He actually said aloud that I was leftovers. I have been called many things, but never that. This didn’t just hurt me; it destroyed me right there where I stood. Pushing him away from me and turning, Anthony cuts me off at the door.
“Let me explain,” he growls with Julian coming to my side. Having had enough, I rear back and give him the best upper cut I’ve ever dished out. When his head snaps back, I silently give myself a high five for landing it. As Julian ushers me out to my truck, the door flies open and Anthony’s coming straight for us.
Julian steps in front to act as my protector, but it’s not needed. Instead I reach my hand into my driver side door and retrieve my 9mm and point it straight at an advancing Anthony. “Move Julian,” I warn him.
“Lina no, fuck! Put the gun down,” he says, backing away.
“Go home, Julian,” I say, looking at him once. “Now.”
“Listen to her, Julian,” he says, walking straight into the end of the barrel and pushing his chest against it. “Go.”
“I’m not sure which one of you is crazier, but I’m not leaving her here with you. If she shoots she shoots, but I’m staying.”
“Do it, Lina,” he taunts me. “Take the shot. Put me out of my misery.”
Staring at his face, I see it. The complete devastation there. Well, fuck him! I’m devastated too! Losing my nerve, knowing I’d never actually do it, I shake my head in confusion and opt for climbing into my truck instead. Before I close the door, I give him my parting words and hope that he understands what it had cost me to say them. “Life was hard enough before I met you,” I whisper. “Then you showed up and I made the mistake of trying. I’ll never get it right. I quit, Tony.”
Slamming the door, I turn my music to the max to drown out the both of them yelling for me to stop. Making a left back on to Michigan Avenue, I said “fuck this” and hit the highway. Shutting my mind down, I focus on everything but him. Hell them. Destination unknown, just me, the open road and a stop at the next coffee joint I find. About five minutes later, intense pain kicked in, so I took a detour to the first urgent care I came across. Because yeah, I think I broke my fucking hand on his face.
Smiling to myself, then silently shrugging, it’s all good. He fucking deserved it.
And on a positive note, I got the pain I was looking for after all.
“It’s all about the chase son,” he said, laughing. “That’s the fun part.”
“How is chasing a woman fun?”
“It’s the animal in us, our primitive side. Once we claim something, it ours. A man will do whatever he has to do to keep what he’s claimed. If she makes it easy, the chase ends. If she makes you work for it, all the better.”
“Did Mom make you work for it?”
“Son, she still makes me work for it.”
I believed that was my parent’s secret to a happy marriage. Since I was a kid that’s what I’ve been waiting for.
The chase.
Chasing after her was becoming a full time job. Her phone must be in her room because the signal never moved which has me hauling ass on the freeway to keep up with her. Leaving Julian looking confused wasn’t difficult. The guy needs to learn the word “no.” Jesus, in my presence alone she’s said it enough. I accept responsibility for pushing her away twice and refused to let it happen again because of my own insecurities. Especially with that piece of shit waiting in the wings. He tried stopping me from following her, but by now he’s probably picking himself up off the ground where I left him bleeding.
Just as I get within a few car lengths, she swerves off and exits. Following, I see her flying down the service ramp onto the main road. It’s late so traffic is light, but damn is she trying to get pulled over? Then she pulls into the urgent care lot and I wait and park several spaces down. She jumps down from her truck cradling her right hand and walks to the front doors looking like she’s in serious pain.
Shit.
Getting out and following her in, I see her filling out forms with her left hand. She’s right handed. Coming up behind her and taking the pen, she looks up and rolls her eyes. Reviewing the form I ask questions, she gives answers. Handing me her license and insurance card so I can give it to the triage nurse, they put a bracelet on her and take her back. Waiting in the lobby I had hoped she would ask for me, but she didn’t. About an hour later a nurse comes out and asks me to come back. She explains her wrist is fractured and she’s been given pain meds and can’t drive. I offered to be her ride home, to which she showed no response because what choice did she have?
Getting her scripts, helping her up and walking her out to my car, I get her in, buckle her up and make the ride back home. The ride back is silent, as I expected it would be. Half way home I see she’s asleep, facing me. I wish I could pull over and just stare at her without the dirty looks that I deserve in return. Seeing her like this, I realize just how poorly I handled things.
Once I park and open my door, she doesn’t budge. She is well and truly out. Coming around to her side, opening the door and unbuckling her, I lift her into my arms, carry her in and tuck her into bed. Grabbing a glass of water in case she gets thirsty, I set it next to the bed and lay next to her just happy to watch her breathe.
Just as I start dozing, she stirs then winces in pain. Sitting up and leaning over her in case she needs me, she slowly opens her eyes and looks right at me. I want to apologize, I want to beg, but instead I point out the obvious. “You drew on me,” I say to her bluntly, and she blinks in response. “Would you have done it? Would have shot me over a misunderstanding?”
“No,” she whispers. “I’m sorry I did that. I know better.”
“I’m sorry I pushed you to the point of having to do it,” I tell her. “I’m sorry for all of it, Lina. What I said to Julian was in anger. I didn’t think when I said it. We’ve discussed it since then, remember? I’m trying to put him behind us.”
“Yeah,” she says, lifting her hand up to touch my jaw that’s still incredibly sore. “Anthony?”
“Yeah piękno?”
“I broke my hand on your face,” she whimpers. “I drew my gun on you.”
“Yes piękno, you did.”
“I forced you,” she whispers, dropping her hand and burying her face in the pillow. “I meant it when I said I quit, when these meds wear off I’m gone. I’m toxic, you don’t need toxic. You’re a pretty normal guy.”
“I’m not letting you quit, Lina,” I whisper. “I’m also not letting you leave. So you’ll either have to break the other hand or blow a hole in my chest because, I can’t lose you.”
Sitting up, all red faced and angry, she growls at me. “You said I forced you! Do you have any idea how hearing that makes me feel?”
“You forced me to be quiet when it was the last thing I wanted to do. I wanted to praise you, tell you how fucking right it felt finally being inside of you. You took that from me, Lina and I didn’t express it properly. But could you at least try to stay in the room when we have an argument? Not everything said is meant to be dishonest. I was hurt and confused. I didn’t want to be a random fuck for you. I wanted to be more. Dammit, I still want to be more, I want to be everything. Tell me you fucking get that.”
She reaches up to my face with both hands. Her tiny unblemished hand and her right hand that’s now casted. “I’m bad for you,” she whispers. “But I fucking get it. What you need to get is that I don’t process things like you do. I’m not easy to be around. I’m not used to this and I don’t know if I’ll ever be. I don’t know that I want to be.”
“Look at me,” I order her. “I’m not used to this either, I’ve never cared for a woman before but at least let me try. Don’t damn us before we had a shot. Let me show you, please.”
“I’m trying,” she says, sighing. “I am. But you shouldn’t have to show me anything. Even if you do, I probabl
y won’t understand it. I’m afraid of this, of being hurt, of being lied to. I don’t get the dynamics of relationships, the bullshit and the expectation. I’m willing to give it one more shot to see where this goes but, Anthony?”
“Yeah?”
“What you said to Julian about me? No one’s ever hurt me like that. Not even my parents and they were experts. Don’t make me feel like that again.”
“Words cannot express how sorry I am for that,” I whisper in her ear. “Please forgive me.”
“I’m tired. Can we talk about this tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow you’ll be back to shutting me out, right now you’re pleasantly buzzed. I want to take advantage.”
She laughs, kicking the covers off. “Oh god. Of what? What do you want to know?”
“What are your nightmares about?”
A sadness comes over her and I want to take it back, but I don’t. I need to know so I can help her deal with it. I’ve had my own share of nightmares, hell until her my life was a living nightmare.
“My mother changed into a monster as soon as I hit my teen years. I don’t know if I told you, I look a lot like her. She hated it. She’s was fairly hands off prior to that, but when she’d get mad she would choke me. That didn’t last long once I started choking back but, moving on. Five years ago I worked a serial start to finish, but what we didn’t know, what I didn’t know, was that he didn’t work alone. I thought I had covered every angle, but right at the end, two other cases came up and my attention was divided so I missed it. It cost me. He broke into my home while I was asleep and tried strangling me like his victims. That’s what my nightmares are about. I dream about them both, choking me.”
“That’s why you stay in hotels.” I make it a statement and as much as I’m horrified for her I’m fucking furious that someone dared touch her. I want to track him down and strangle the mother fucker myself then drive back over and strangle her mother.
“I don’t like having a routine anymore,” she says. “I have enemies.”
“The man who did this to you, what happened to him?”
“I put three holes in his head,” she says, yawning. “Can I sleep now?”
“Yeah you can sleep now,” I tell her. “I’m proud of you, Lina. That took guts.”
“It was him or me,” she says quietly. “He may be dead, but I’m still terrified. I’m not so sure I’m the lucky one in this situation.”
“I have a confession to make,” I tell her, but I knew I had to do it. “Please hear me out before you get angry.”
“I’m listening.”
“I went to your parent’s home while you were at the mall.”
“Why?” she asks quietly. “I wouldn’t lie to you, but you went behind my back to see them anyway?”
“I had hoped---”
“What?” she asks, sitting up. “That they missed me? Felt remorse for how they treated me? Let me guess, you met her and she validated everything I said, huh? You meet him too? You thought I made this up? Or what that you could fix this for me? Oh, I know you want to fix me.”
“I had the best parents in the world. I thought if there was even a small chance to get that for you, I wanted to.”
“But…”
“You’re parents are fucking horrible and I’m sorry. I wanted to help. I wanted you to have what I had.”
“We don’t all get gems, Anthony,” she says, tucking her face into my side. “I’m just glad you did. Hearing you talk about them, seeing who you are proves that it does exist. But I can’t miss what I never had.”
“I’ll be your family,” I whisper to her. “I’ll love you more than they ever could, if you let me.”
When she didn’t answer, I felt her puffs of breath on my chest. But then several minutes later she stirred a bit and held me tight.
“Anthony?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for saving me tonight and just so you know, I told him no. It’ll always be no because he isn’t you.”
Before I could answer, she was out again. It took some time for sleep to come for me. I wanted to stay alert in case she needed me. I wanted to fight off her demons for her if they showed up while she was vulnerable. But she didn’t even move. The attack explains a lot about her, why she drinks, why she prefers to be alone and why she doesn’t form connections. She is the first woman, hell the first person, I’ve ever felt connected to in my life. She is so small, so breakable. She needs me. Maybe not as much as I need her, but it’s there, it’s growing. There was a time when I thought Venessa could be my match, but that’s laughable now after meeting Lina.
I meant it when I said I see Venessa like a sister, a friend. She does need looking after, but she has Rogan now and no one will get near her with him close. Lina though, I have to wonder what it will take to let me get closer to her. Surely keeping her medicated isn’t the way to go, which is the only time she opens up. Tonight before it all went to shit, I wanted to open up to her too, but she left before I had the chance. That’s the thing about chances, you only get so many and with her I never know when they’ll run out. Closing my eyes, I let sleep take me knowing that she’s where she’s supposed to be.
Here in this bed, with me. My little truth seeker is lying to herself if she thinks that she can just walk away when this is over because, I’ll be damned if I’ll let her.
She can’t walk away if she loves me and that’s the truth.
Brushing out my hair and trying to put it up in a twist like Phoebe does on Friends, I’m caught off guard when my head snaps back. Whipping around and staring her down, I want to hit her. I’m not afraid of her any more. She can’t take me and I could prove that to her right now, I could hit her back.
But I don’t.
Ignoring her I begin brushing my hair out again to start over. “No man is ever gonna want something like you,” she sneers at me. “Look at you, short, fat and ugly. Evil didn’t bother disguising itself in a pretty package with you. You can do your hair, dress nice and get good grades, but you’re still pure fucking evil.”
Biting my tongue, I watch her in the mirror. Ana is maybe an inch taller than me, twenty-five pounds overweight and I am her image. That’s only one of the many reasons she hates me. Two more weeks of saving, plus working with the captain and I’m out of here. Two more long fucking weeks.
“I’m talking to you!” she screams, pulling my hair again. Taking her wrist and twisting it, I switch positions backing her against the sink.
“I could break this,” I tell her calmly while she screams. “All I have to do is…”
“Let go of your mother, Halina,” he says, seething at me. “Now.”
Stepping back, she lunges for me, slapping and scratching my face. My father speaks to her in his language which calms her down and has her laughing at me. What he said had me packing my bags early. “She’ll be eighteen in a year Ana, be patient. When she’s an adult, we can change the locks and she can fend for herself on the streets. Maybe we’ll get lucky and the streets will kill her before you do.”
So much for holding out.
What I do brings me unwanted attention. When you solve cases while still in high school, you get noticed. It also pisses a lot of people off. In the beginning, the media was up my ass the second I stepped foot at a scene. They thought I had special powers, apparently. Like I could magically pick out the guilty party out of a crowd. What they failed to understand was that the truth for me, was easy. Putting together the pieces, was not. You start with the evidence then, work your way through questioning suspects in the hopes of finding the motive. My job wasn’t to sit in a room asking questions. I did, of course, but I had to be at the scene working leads before I ever got to the table. To my knowledge I’ve never been wrong, but… the DPD has, the DA has and the media has.
Criminals get off all the time. My role was the first step, and I did it without fail. The failure comes when the department fucks up evidence. The DA takes that fuck up as an opportunity to set the criminal
free and then the media blasts the department for putting another criminal back on the streets.
The criminal however, remembers none of that. What they do remember is, it was my efforts that got them locked up in the first place.
In an effort to keep myself safe, I’ve taken self-defense classes for years. It doesn’t help that I’m built like a traditional polish girl. Short, big boobs, big ass and a huge temper. Venessa and Jules are small too, not quite as small as me, but still small for women yet, they can kick serious ass. I’ve tried but I’m not built to be an ass kicker. I’m not even five foot, which means I have to rely on knowing my environment and having above-par shooting skills.
Venessa relies on martial arts and Macy’s special sauce combined with the element of surprise, whereas Jules knows pretty much everything else. Macy isn’t much of a fighter but, she can if she has to and when she does, she’s kind of nuts. Macy is tall compared to us and when her legs start flying, you best get the fuck out of the way. Me though, I always carry my gun and I’ve managed to train enough to feel safe in most situations. But I’m not as physically strong as they are. I have to rely on fighting dirty to get the job done. Which is why having my right hand casted blows dick. Yes, I can shoot with my left hand but, I can’t write with it and that’s going to drive me insane.
When I look over, I see Anthony sound asleep on his back. His jaw is slack and he’s snoring. Leaning up on my elbow, I admit he is quite possibly the most gorgeous man walking the planet in my eyes. How in the world a man like him sees anything in me, is a mystery I’m not equipped to solve. Is he just using me? Could he honestly feel something? He speaks true, but has he convinced himself of his need for me or his need of me?
One of my favorite things about him is his stubble. He’s always so polished, so put together and ready, it makes me feel below average. When he goes a day or two without shaving, it makes him look rugged and more bad ass. I’m Silver jeans to his Armani. But seeing him like this works too. He’s got the Italian thing working for him too. Olive skin, jet black hair and soft blue eyes. Although like me, he has the polish nose and lips and I like that we have that in common. I told him about my nightmares, about the case that started my phobia. Jules doesn’t even know about that. In a matter of days I’ve given him some insight into why I am the way that I am, and though I don’t know why I did it, I’m sort of glad I did. Initially, I was angry he went to see my parents, but for him it’s foreign. He wouldn’t have the means to grasp the concept of being unloved because he was bathed in it. He was encouraged, respected and guided. I meant it when I said I can’t miss what I didn’t have, but in my heart I am so glad he had it. Anthony has a big heart and it makes my stomach hurt that he doesn’t have them while my donors live and breathe.