Pieces of Broken Time

by Lorenz Font

  Her last call was to the window company. The earliest they could do the job was in a few days, which was good enough for her. She could brave out a couple of days in her own house. It was better than enduring Blake’s endlessly impossible mood swings. That was what she kept telling herself, trying not to think of the kiss.

  Chapter 12

  Blake had no idea how long he’d been driving around until exhaustion got the best of him. He parked along the shoulder of the empty highway to clear his mind. After all, he was not back to his usual self yet. His stamina wasn’t what it used to be, and his body always found a way to subdue him into submitting to its limits.

  Rewinding his memories to earlier in the day, Blake wasn’t proud of his outburst. He was unraveling in front of this woman faster than his mind could even process. Sure, he’d had a valid argument, but he wasn’t the best authority on good behavior. He couldn’t even follow Sam’s instruction on how to properly care for his injuries.

  He pounded on the steering wheel in frustration.

  What a hypocrite!

  Drew yelped from the backseat.

  He patted the dog’s head and went back to his thoughts. As of late, he’d become his own worst enemy and Jennifer’s presence had had a remarkable effect on his roller coaster of emotions. One second, he was a jackass biting her head off, and the next, he wanted to protect her from anything and everyone, including himself.

  He wished he no longer harbored feelings for her, and feared another moment with her would make him transparent to the point of exposing her effect on him. Her touches made him realize that he needed a woman in his life. Sure, he could pay a whore to satisfy his needs and give him the much-needed jerk off, but would that fulfill his yearning?

  Man, this is getting complicated.

  He cranked the Jeep and checked for any oncoming traffic before easing onto the highway and driving straight to the rehab center.

  After he parked, he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and autodialed his home number. Four rings and his answering machine picked up. Feeling a bit silly, he left a quick message before he lost his nerve, hoping that Jennifer might be listening.

  “Jennifer, I know I acted like an ass again this morning. I apologize for that. It’s just … man, this is hard for me. I don’t want you hurting yourself. If you need anything while I’m out, you can call me on my cell phone.” He left his number and hung up.

  I’m pathetic.

  “C’mon, boy.” He whistled the moment he slipped out of the driver’s seat.

  The dog jumped down and was at his side within a few seconds.

  He attached the leash to Drew’s collar before they made their way to his appointment.

  “Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” Sam said as the pair came through the door.

  “I’m here, so get over it,” Blake said, feeling glum.

  A grin spread across his buddy’s face, and he met Blake at the workout table. “And you are wearing your vest, too. This is amazing. I wonder which god I have to thank for this breakthrough.”

  Blake wasn’t in the mood for the jerk’s teasing. He grunted and sat on the table to wait.

  “Fine, do your thing. But I want you to know that I’m proud of you for taking the first step into looking after yourself.”

  “Yada yada.” Blake tuned him out, not interested in hearing the pep talk about the benefits of wearing the damn vest.

  The contraption was heavy, not to mention uncomfortable and hot. He only had it on because, even though he hated to admit it, he felt better wearing the darn thing.

  “Remove your shirt and the vest. I want to check the skin’s healing progress,” Sam said, breaking into his self-imposed cocoon.

  Blake yanked his shirt off but faltered when it came to the vest. Even though Sam had seen his ghastly looking body, the idea remained unnerving. He hesitated, his fingers locking stiff.

  “Man, let’s not make this a big deal. I’ve seen worse.” Sam’s tone was gentle yet firm enough to show he meant business.

  Damn Sam for reading him like an open book. Slowly, Blake removed the Velcro strap that held the vest in place and dropped the garment on the floor. He flopped on the table to let Sam do his thing and closed his eyes, not wanting to see the man’s reaction to the repulsive sight before him. Instead, he listened to Sam’s tennis shoes squeaking across the floor while he inspected him like a piece of meat.

  Blake let out a long sigh, showing his impatience at the process. “What?” he asked, unable to stand the silence any longer.

  “You have left the burns to heal on their own, and although they’ve healed well enough, I can see contractures on some. Do you feel like you can’t move your body at a certain angles?” Sam’s tone somehow planted another layer on his already rotten pile of doubts.

  “Sometimes.” His answer was short and clipped. He didn’t want to add insecurity to his growing list of unspoken fears, but he knew he was screwed and there wasn’t much he could do about it.

  “It has been almost a year, right?”

  Blake clenched his jaw and kept all the rude comebacks he had to himself.

  “There’s a little irritation right here.” Sam touched the area, and Blake flinched.

  “So?”

  “I’m going to phone Dr. McCall and schedule an appointment for you. It’s a simple debridement. Other than that, you’re doing well. Keep wearing the vest. No matter how worthless you think it is, it’s doing its job.”

  Blake said nothing when Sam stepped out of the room. He lay on his stomach and spread his arms above his head to relax, easing the stiffness in his joints.

  He was dozing by the time Sam returned and started rotation exercises followed by extensions and flexes. The session went by fast, and he felt much better than when he’d first come in.

  “I’ll pick you up tonight at eight. And I won’t take no for an answer this time,” Sam said and strode off to another waiting patient before Blake could respond.

  Whatever.

  Sam was going to learn that Blake couldn’t be ordered around, even if it was for his own good.

  Blake put on his vest and then his shirt, and left without saying a word. That was the perk of having Drew around. There was no need for any conversation.

  On a whim, he stopped by the grocery store and picked up some steaks as a sort of peace offering. Words might not be sufficient, but maybe his actions could redeem him. Blake vowed to make a conscious effort to avoid snapping at Jennifer.

  I can do this. Piece of cake.

  He had to try, at least, even if her closeness was killing him.

  Jennifer was packing her bag when the phone rang, and she let the machine pick up. The last thing she needed was another conversation with his mother, even if she meant well. She liked the woman, even if their chat had been brief, but there was little point in forging any friendship with a woman she would never meet.

  She had an idea how Blake had gotten injured from the bits and pieces she had gathered from the conversation with his mother and Colonel Norwalk. She was certain it was connected to Trent’s death, but broaching the subject might send him into a tailspin. It would be nice to get the old Blake back, the charismatic and tenderhearted man she once knew. This new Blake seemed hell-bent on ignoring his needs. And that was something she had to ignore, too. As much as she wanted to help, the man had deep-seated issues way beyond what she was capable of understanding. He was a classic example of the returning soldiers who had seen the bitter effects of war, and she was out of her element around him. What he needed was professional help and a healthy dose of understanding. If only he would open up, it might make it easier for her to get through to him.

  Her heart constricted when Blake’s voice drifted from the little speaker. While sweet, his apology wasn’t what she needed. His moods and outbursts were difficult to handle, but not as difficult as the attraction she felt for him. She had enough troubles. Allowing him in any further had disaster written all over. She still found herse
lf storing his cell number on her phone.

  Not that I’m going to call, but … it can’t hurt to have it.

  After clearing her things as fast as she could manage, Jennifer took one last look around his bedroom and departed. She decided against leaving a note. That seemed a bit melodramatic, and she wasn’t up for darkening her already cloudy mood.

  Shoeless on her injured foot, Jennifer tried to hobble on her good one with the aid of the crutches. She looked at the distance she had to cover. The pavement was hot, and it didn’t help that her bag was heavy, yet she took each step like a trooper.

  What should have been a ten-minute walk took four times longer. By the time she had reached her front step, she was tired, sweaty, and in pain. It took her a moment to muster enough courage to enter her own house.

  She crossed the threshold, hoping for peace and quiet, away from everything that Blake stirred within her, but she couldn’t stop the small shivers that kept running through her. She’d been told it was natural to feel wary after a breakin, that a violated space had a way of making a person jittery.

  She took a deep breath and locked the door behind her, engaging the chain for an added sense of false security. She hobbled to her bedroom and dropped the heavy bag on the chair. Without skipping a beat, she rummaged through her purse for the pill bottle and popped one inside her mouth.

  Jennifer limped to the shower, turned on the water, and stripped out of her sweaty clothes. She took one look at her foot and gasped. The bandage was soaked with blood.

  Not good.

  She lifted the gauze, and upon closer inspection, she saw that she’d popped a couple of stitches. She took a quick shower and cleansed the site afterward. By the time she was done, the pain meds had kicked in, and she went to bed, welcoming the shelter of sleep.

  It was past midnight when she awoke, feeling disoriented and on the verge of panic. She listened in the darkness for sounds, anything that would justify her stupidity in leaving the safety of Blake’s house. Her immediate surroundings were quiet, but the fear inside her wouldn’t go away. The broken window hadn’t been replaced yet, and she knew she was as vulnerable as if she was standing outside unprotected. The fear that gripped her was crippling, leaving her in tears and unable to rationalize her thoughts.

  Unless she called the cops, she had no one to come to her aid. Mr. Smith was much too old to be disturbed at this unholy hour.

  I can call—

  No! Get a grip, Jennifer.

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she shook her head, grabbed her cell phone off the table, and dialed Blake’s number.

  The phone rang several times before an unfamiliar voice picked up.

  She almost hung up, but then she heard the magic words.

  “This is Blake’s cell. How can I help you?”

  She hesitated for a moment before she found the courage to speak up. “Can I speak with Blake, please?”

  There was a rustling in the background as if a phone was exchanging hands.

  “Yesh?” Blake slurred the word.

  “Blake, it’s Jennifer. I’m scared. I’m at home. Can you please pick me up?” She swallowed the scream stuck in her throat when a noise sounded just outside her bedroom window.

  “Jenny?”

  Her heart skipped. Blake was the only person who had ever called her Jenny and only when he was being playful.

  “Yeah, it’s me. Can you please pick me up?”

  “I’m coming to get you right … now. Sam, let’s go to Jenny … she needs me.”

  Jennifer heard a click, and the line disconnected. She made as little noise as possible as she rushed out of bed, completely forgetting about her bandaged foot. Yelping in pain, she didn’t waste a minute gathering the bag she had left in the chair and huddled beside the door to wait in the darkness.

  The doorbell chimed.

  Oh, thank God!

  She opened the door to find a man she had never seen before. The scream she had forced down minutes before rushed to her lips, and she dropped everything, fully prepared to bolt in the opposite direction in hopes she could reach the phone before the strange man managed to grab her.

  “Jennifer, wait. I’m Sam. Blake’s in the car.”

  The hurried explanation halted her. “Sam? What happened to Blake?”

  “I’ll explain in the car. Blake wants you out of here.”

  Chapter 13

  Jennifer, with a little help from Sam, managed to get out to the car.

  “Take the backseat with him,” Sam said, climbing behind the wheel and revving the engine.

  She peeked through the back window and saw Blake sprawled out and moaning. From the god-awful smell that hit her when she opened the door, it was clear that someone had been puking.

  With as much gentleness as she could muster, she lifted Blake’s shoulders, slipped into the seat, and laid his head on her lap. His forehead was warm to touch and his breath reeked of alcohol.

  Sam glanced back as he drove and offered an apologetic smile.

  “Should I remove his beanie? He’s burning up.”

  Sam shook his head vehemently. “No, he wouldn’t like that. He’s just had too much to drink. Don’t worry about him.”

  Before she could answer, Blake took her hand from his forehead. “Hey …” He drawled the one word into four syllables in full drunken form.

  “Hey, you,” she whispered.

  Blake gave an innocent smile. His good eye was closed, and in the glow of the little light from the dashboard, he almost looked peaceful. Relaxed.

  Forgetting about her own fears became easy as he held her hand for the duration of the short drive back to his place. Even in his inebriated state, he brought her comfort. She felt safe.

  Sam eased Blake’s Jeep in the driveway and turned off the engine. “Here, let me help you inside first, and then I’ll come get him.”

  She was going to refuse but Blake nudged her, slurring out his order. “Go.”

  “Going.” Sam grinned, walked around the car, slipped an arm around her waist, and hefted her out of the car.

  “This isn’t necessary. I can walk.” Jennifer tried to push off his chest.

  “My pal might be out of his mind, but he made it clear that I get you home, safe.” Sam stopped at the front door while he retrieved the keys. “And by the looks of it, your foot isn’t doing great.”

  “How can you tell?” she asked.

  They headed toward Blake’s bedroom.

  “I happen to be familiar with the scent of blood,” Sam said, lowering her on the edge of the bed.

  “I should stay in the spare room. He should take his bed—closer to the bathroom.”

  Sam raised an eyebrow. “Knowing that man, he would beat the crap out of me if I put you in the other room. I distinctly remember him mentioning that he had you sleeping in here before you left.”

  Jennifer had no idea why she blushed. Trying to cover her discomfort with the arrangement, she made a stupid decision. “Then put him here, too. That way I can take him to the bathroom if he needs to go.”

  Yeah, that explains everything.

  Sam nodded and left the room only to return moments later with Blake hanging over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “Where do you want him?”

  There was a hint of humor in the question, but she ignored it. “Here.” She pointed to the right side of the bed, where the clock was more visible to Blake.

  Sam eased Blake onto the bed and proceeded to remove Blake’s shoes. “Whatever you do, don’t remove his patch, and leave the beanie alone.” Sam’s warning was clear.

  She took advantage of the resource available to find out more about this enigmatic man passed out beside her. “Why?”

  “He doesn’t take kindly to pity, sympathy, or whatever it is that most ladies throw his way.” Sam’s gaze traveled down to her injured foot. “I should look at that before I go.”

  “It’s okay. I can do it.” Her foot throbbed as though it had a life of its own and made it k
nown that her decision to leave had been childish and stupid.

  “I’m afraid I can’t leave until I check it out. Blake has been so worried about you.”

  Jennifer peered at Blake’s sleeping form. “He’s been worried?”

  “Yep. So let me look at it,” Sam said.

  I made him worry?

  She blushed, looking away quickly, but nodded, and Sam went to the bathroom. She heard the drawers being opened and he came back with a first aid kit.

  Sam pushed a chair at the edge of the bed and laid a clean towel on top. “Prop your foot on this. Tell me if it hurts, okay?” Sam began removing the bandage and she heard him sigh. “Thank your lucky stars it isn’t as bad as I thought. You just seem to be a bleeder.”

  Jennifer hissed when Sam applied the antiseptic. In order to get her mind off the burning pain, she focused on the nagging question in her head. “Why was he drinking?”

  If Sam wanted to tell her to mind her own business, he didn’t let on. He looked at her and shrugged. When he finished wrapping her foot with a fresh bandage, he inspected his handiwork and grinned. “You should be okay. Just stay off the foot.”

  “Thank you so much.”

  Sam moved across the room and sat on the swivel chair. Just as she started to get uneasy with the silence, he spoke. “I’ve been inviting him for drinks. You know, to get out of the house and to enjoy life a bit. He loves music, but since the blast, he hasn’t done anything. He hasn’t picked up his guitar. Nothing. Then, this afternoon, I was surprised but took it as a positive sign when he didn’t argue with my invitation …” He swirled the chair around like a child trying to stall.

  “And?”

  “I dropped by to pick him up so we could drive together. He seemed distracted, angry even, but with Blake, there’s no asking him unless you want your head bitten off and served à la carte, so I left it alone. We dropped by your house before we headed to the bar, and still he didn’t say anything. After several drinks, he started unloading. Maybe it was his anxiety that got the best of him, but then out of the blue, he went up to the stage and started playing. He’s good.” Sam shook his head.