by Leanne Davis
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Actually, it’s probably the least I can do. After all, you are my partner in stopping crime, right?” He tried to smile but failed.
She tried to smile too but all Jacob saw was a weak, watery version of a smile. “You find that as hard to believe as I do.”
“Yeah. I do. The media doesn’t. I can’t let you hop a ride home from a stranger. Let me.”
“All right. I would really appreciate it. They plan to release me around eleven.”
“I’ll be waiting here.”
“That’s not very long.”
“No. I wouldn’t have slept anyway.”
“Thank you, Jacob.”
“Try to sleep until then, Luna.” They tried more meager attempts at making smiles, but both were unsuccessful.
Chapter Eight
LUNA WATCHED JACOB’S TALL form retreating. Her heart thumped hard in response. He was six-foot-three, but he seemed taller and was in glorious shape. His wide shoulders tapered down to a thin waist and his long legs went on forever. He held his head up high, and his shoulders back, carrying himself with a confidence that she normally would have found sexy. Possibly. Maybe. Not always.
But definitely not now. Not today. Not while she was being monitored in the hospital after sharing her version of the violent take-down and arrest of a murderer. No sexual thoughts even entered her brain.
Sighing, she watched the shiny blond crown of Jacob’s hair disappear. As dark in her complexion, hair, and eyes as Luna was, Jacob was exactly the opposite. Light hair, tawny eyes, and fair skin.
He had a rather deep voice. Luna guessed he was perhaps in his late twenties, like her. They were similar because they had forged an unexpected connection, being the only ones who pursued the shooter to disarm him. The murderer. Worse than any monster.
Her foot throbbed, and the pain medication helped a bit. But nothing could fool her brain. She longed for sleep but found no rest. Ceaselessly on edge, she was moody, angry, and in a word, grumpy. Perhaps it was an unusual reaction after escaping such violent bloodshed with her life still intact. Grumpy? Her moods vacillated up and down. Well, no shit.
But Luna still had to grit her teeth to resist the urge to snap at the nurse with the shrill voice who kindly kept asking if she wanted her to fix her covers or adjust her meds. Nurse Linda was always chipper, nice, and …so fucking irritating. She clucked like a hen and swooped like a peregrine falcon around Luna, as if fluffing her pillows could compensate for why she was there. Luna instantly felt guilty and wrong. The nurse was just doing her job. She was obviously doing her best under the circumstances, so what if her voice was as unbearable as grating her skin like cheddar cheese? Her laugh annoyed Luna worse than a cat clawing her. Why would they assign such a smothering nurse to a person who just witnessed eight shootings?
Biting her tongue, Luna shut up. It wasn’t anyone’s fault. They were all trying to help.
Despite her sharp-tongued inner dialogue and moodiness, she still felt grumpy because she wanted to go home. It didn’t matter that she didn’t know what she would do once she got there.
To say she was surprised when Jacob entered her room was the understatement of the century.
Oddly enough, it soothed her strung-out nerves, and she temporarily forgot all the irritants around her. She didn’t feel like engaging in trite, meaningless chit-chat, much less reliving the horrors of the evening before. For Luna, there was no middle ground anymore. She wanted to scream at the world in protest. Now everything was different. Was it ruined? Possibly. But mostly tarnished. Poisoned was the only word that came to mind.
She couldn’t freaking explain it to anyone. There was no explanation or reason for it. Not a single possible excuse. None. How could she explain the machinations of a madman? What string of stupid words could she utter to make anyone, except Jacob, understand what those moments felt like when the gun kept firing? Would they stay in her mind forever? A lifetime probably and what had become normal life was really a dystopian horror show. How could anyone understand what it was like to see people falling down dead? Everything in the diner was breaking as the tables were overturned, and plates were tossed. The patrons moved as one collective, undulating body in their desperate efforts to hit the floor. She recalled the sounds of the gun’s loud report. The ensuing screams. The struggling grunts. More bangs, clangs, and pings as the bullets ricocheted chaotically. Then the softer, private sound of her blood pulsating in her ears.
Yes, it was a little hard to imagine having a casual conversation about any of that.
Jacob was the only other person who managed to keep his wits and take action. Luna could stand to be near him because he hadn’t pushed the conversation, but just wanted to be with her. He remained quiet. She sensed a kindred spirit in Jacob. He seemed to respond to the same vibes and energy she did. That helped her recovery a lot. Far more than the strongest pain meds or the clucking nurse. The media could use that as their latest scoop.
Of course, she should’ve informed her parents. But although her dad loved her, he was so loud and boisterous, he sometimes embarrassed her. He was a popular linebacker in college, and he almost went pro. He often, way too often, spoke of it with sincere reverence and longing. Luna was his daughter, not the son he always wished he had. A son to follow in his footsteps. But no. Luna was small and curvy like her mother. As well as quiet and calm.
The report of the gun repeatedly went off over and over in her ears. Of course, it wasn’t real, never mind how real it seemed. The experience was so big that it completely seized control of her. She had to find a place to be quiet. She wished she could shrink into a corner with her hands over her ears and somehow end the echoing screams and the other residual sounds and sights that accompanied her memories. She wished they would stop flashing through her brain for a minute or two. Just stop. Be quiet. She longed for a quiet second. Besides, she didn’t have any words to express how she felt. She was doomed to fail if she tried to communicate.
And that would never fly with her parents.
No, their shock and horror would become the real issue.
So much ill will existed between them. For three years, during two of which they didn’t exchange words at all, Luna and her parents had absolutely no contact. She preferred not to go back to that. She had to stay on the straight and narrow or risk losing her parents again.
Who would have predicted that? And when she got home, what would she do? What job could she return to? How could she ever go back to the café? She shuddered at the very thought. No. Nothing could entice her to go back to her establishment, that is, nothing short of wild horses dragging her inside it.
She finally fell into a fitful sleep. Waking up at the hospital’s morning scuffle growing louder, she was glad as she started preparing for her discharge. She was still wearing the clothes she received from the hospital staff. There was no shortage of their outpouring of care and concern, for which she was grateful. She quickly but awkwardly changed clothes in the bathroom.
When she stepped out with the assistance of a crutch, she stopped short.
Jacob was standing there.
He stared at her and his gaze scanned her body. She realized they were about the same age and he wasn’t only attractive; he was a hot guy.
“You’re so short. I didn’t realize that.”
Luna ducked her head down. Not the gallant knight in armor anymore, was he? He shook his head. “I didn’t mean it like that. It’s just I’ve never until now seen you upright, since we met on the floor of the café. Well, crap. That really sounds weird...”
“It’s okay, I know what you mean. It was weird and still is. I was thinking about how we first saw each other too. I saw you crouching behind that cabinet. You were ready to spring into the air as if you were jumping off a trampoline, flying at the gunman and saving us all.”
“The first I saw of you was when you were crawling, dragging your body along the floor. So heroic, moving towar
d a gun man while dragging a broken foot.”
“Never mind that I’m particularly short?”
“Yes. You really are.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a small, kidding smirk to keep what he said from being taken as an insult.
“Well. I could say that you’re unusually tall.” She glanced away as she hobbled forward. Then she felt his arm under hers. His face was instantly right next to hers. “A very nice short, I should add.”
She peeked up at him and her skin warmed. She tried to remember the last time she blushed and concluded it was months, or maybe even years. She hadn’t flirted with a guy in so long, she wondered if she remembered how to flash a sexy grin. So, she kept staring at him, her face a total blank, but serious, to the point of being sad. So sad to know why he was there. The only reason she knew him was because of a tragic event. She shook her head. “You came back here. Wasn’t expecting you would.”
“Where else would I go? Really? I feel somehow connected to you because of this. In a way I can’t explain or even try to describe.”
She sniffed and nodded. “Me too. I guess that’s why I feel so happy seeing you now. I doubted you’d show up.”
“Really? I’m not a flake. I keep my word.”
“That’s good to know.” But it felt weird. His tone was intense, almost to the point of sounding fierce, as if he had to remind her of something she should’ve known. She wanted to tap him on the shoulder to draw his gaze back to her. She was eager to remind him that he just met her, less than two days ago.
Once the doctor made his last visit with Luna, she was so anxious to get home. The nurse waited for her with a wheelchair, and Luna sat down. They wheeled her out, with Jacob nearby. Jacob carried her crutches for her since she had nothing else with her. Her clothes, he assumed, were either incinerated or seized for evidence. Luna would have taken great delight in incinerating them. She wished she could have gleefully watched them burn. The surfeit of flowers she received were donated to the children’s ward.
They passed through the corridor and took the elevator down, only to enter the foyer and get besieged by a small crowd of people. Not exactly the paparazzi, but they were unappreciated all the same. Was it such a big deal that Luna Castellanos got released from the hospital? Apparently, it was, and countless professional and amateur photographers approached her. So many cell phones were pointed at her, it was like running the gauntlet. She knew some of them were the media, while others were private citizens. She tried to smile, but the attention instantly became overwhelming. People called out her name and nodded, showing her sad smiles, and some even had the gall to clap.
“Jacob? Luna? Are you two dating now?” someone called out. Jacob scooted ahead of her, clearing the way for her wheelchair. He kept his head down and said few words to the nosy people in front of them.
Once they were out of the main doors, the nurse let go of her, staring sympathetically at Luna. “Good luck, dear, seems like everybody wants to know all they can about you.”
Luna wondered if the nurse let them know she was bringing Luna down and when to expect her. She would’ve bet on it. She was helped up, and her crutches were provided. She took them and tried to adjust her balance, but a crowd appeared around them. Neither she nor Jacob looked at or answered anyone. They kept their gazes firmly fastened on the pavement. Questions were fired at them like a machine gun. It was way too much with way too many people. It was so ridiculous. They were shoved every direction and blocked in at the same time. Luna was feeling claustrophobic and she wanted out immediately. She didn’t want to talk about anything to anyone right now. An elbow pushed her, and she wobbled, crying out when her right foot accidentally touched the ground. She nearly fell then—until a hand reached out and caught her.
Her suffocating panic made her glance up and poof! A camera flashed directly in her face. Her head flooded with a new sensation, a crippling fear. Pop! Pop! Pop! went the gun. The gun that was swung around so recklessly by a stranger in a crowded restaurant. Even now, anyone could be carrying one. Anyone could be taking aim at her. She tried to shake off the unreasonable thoughts. She blamed it on the cameras. The media. Every news organization wanted to interview her and Jacob.
Jacob.
She tried to hear him and had to stop dead on her crutches, wobbling uncertainly. “Luna?” His voice was right beside her ear, now full of concern. His hand was holding her up as his forearm shook with the sheer exertion of it.
“I can’t stand this… the crowd. It’s suffocating. I keep thinking…”
“Of Lester Zandinsky. I get it.” He stared at her, then looked down at her foot, and she adjusted her balance with her good foot. He glanced around at the crowd surrounding them. Then Jacob muttered, “Fuck this.” He looked back at her and she wondered if he intended to ditch her to them? But no. Moving closer, his arms came out as he lifted her up. He briefly adjusted her in his arms, saying, “Hold onto your crutches.” She gasped in surprise when she lost her footing before being transported and nearly airborne.
Like a fireman carrying a damsel from a burning house, Jacob strode right through the crowd. Seconds later, she was set down with the utmost care into the front seat of a large SUV. Then her crutches were stowed in back before a door slammed. Jacob quickly got into the driver’s seat and started the vehicle, muttering to himself. He stared in the rearview mirror, then glanced over his shoulder before he pulled out quickly. He peeled away from the entrance with squealing tires.
She blinked in disbelief at the last five minutes. Had this become her future life?
“Did you just sweep me away in your arms like an infant? Right in front of a dozen reporters?”
Jacob cringed. Glancing her way, he grimaced and looked back at the road as he nodded. “Seems so. They wouldn’t move an inch. Or shut up. You looked pretty overwhelmed.”
“I was having a… I don’t know, maybe a flashback or something. That camera that flashed in my eyes took me straight back to the café, staring at Lester Zandinsky and watching him swing the gun back and forth. All I could think of was who else might have had a gun in that crowd? It was—”
“Yeah, you did have a flashback. Anxiety attack. It was real, and they should show more respect and care for you, instead of mobbing you. It’s tantamount to a kind of abuse since you were made to relive it.”
“I didn’t expect anything like that.”
“It seems to be gaining traction and momentum too. I really hate this shit. Already.”
“Well, yeah. But don’t you think you might have fanned the flames there? By rebuffing their efforts and maybe—”
“Maybe what?’
“They seemed fixated on seeing us together. Maybe they think—”
“A romance is brewing?”
“They could have construed that, I suppose.”
He put on the signal and changed lanes. “Oh, yeah, it was super romantic for me too. Having to choke a man while you pulled the gun from his limp hand. Drenched in the blood of one of your customers.”
“Well, that’s why they might choose to cling to something good that came out of the story."
He sighed. “Well… shit. It wasn’t something I thought out. I was just done with all of them and…”
“The footage of you carrying me out of the hospital, whisking me away from the frenzy of reporters, will soon be on televisions everywhere.”
“That’s not exactly helping you sink back into anonymity, is it?”
She shrugged. “I don’t expect you to help me. You don’t even know me.”
“No. I don’t. Hell of a way for us to meet though, huh?”
She rolled her eyes without a smile as she said, “I have to say it’s the worst introduction to anyone I’ve ever had, and I mean ever.”
He glanced at her, and the regret shone in his eyes and his downturned mouth. “Yeah, worst introduction ever.”
They passed a few miles and the road twisted and turned, following the river. Ice floated in uneven chunks and J
acob drove with more caution and care. The darkening sky gave him more courage. “Uh… I didn’t think about this until now, but do you have a boyfriend?”
“A boyfriend?” Startled, Luna could only stare at him in wonder. Why would he ask that?
“No.”
“Husband? Significant other?”
“No. Why are you asking? Are you suddenly lusting after the woman you survived a mass shooting with?”
Swiftly, he turned to her, his mouth dropping open. She regretted the words as soon as they came out of her mouth, but again, her grumpiness plagued her. She crossed her arms over her chest and waited for his reply. “Well?”
“No. I… Since those pictures will be coming out with me carrying you like I’m rescuing you or something—and being the stud that I am—if you have a boyfriend or spouse, I worried it could be a problem for you. I swear I wasn’t sniffing around, certainly not for a hook-up.”
Luna’s chin fell to her chest. Shutting her eyes, she sighed. “That was considerate of you. I’m sorry I assumed the worst. I feel so churlish ever since yesterday, and I can’t seem to snap out of it.”
“You’re… just grumpy?”
“Yes. Moody. Easily irritated. It’s not exactly the tragic reaction I probably should be having. I don’t want to cry, and I don’t feel guilty. I don’t even feel mad right now, just easily irritated and annoyed. And numb. Tired. Exhausted. Grumpy. That is the best description I can think of. It’s wrong. And probably the worst reaction. I’m not giving the ordeal enough weight. It was horrible, so why am I so short-tempered?”
He nodded. “I actually kind of get it. My patience and tolerance are wearing thin too. My mood is in the gutter. My family keeps hovering over me, and I hate that. I have to force myself to be nice and caring. Lots of hugs and the same questions over and over, asking how I feel, how am I doing now? Obviously, they insist on monitoring me. Even when I got up this morning, it started all over again. I was relieved to have a legitimate excuse, to help you. Fellow victim and survivor.”