Of Cinder and Bone

by Kyoko M

  Kamala counted to ten. “What doughnut?”

  “The one you had after you dropped hot blondie off at her boyfriend’s place.”

  She whirled. “You were following me?”

  “It wasn’t hard. And that’s my point. If I could do that no problem, who’s to say you won’t get some schmuck who’s got a crush doing the same thing? Think you can take care of yourself if some pervert wanted a piece of that ass? I’m offering you real protection from the monsters out there. You’ll never see them coming until it’s too late.”

  “Final warning,” she growled. “Get the hell out of here or I’ll call the cops.”

  He tossed the cigarette aside. “You will, huh? Alright, fine. Make me.”

  Before she could blink, he was in front of her and her purse was lying ten feet away in the grass. She hadn’t seen him move. How had he yanked it off so quickly?

  Her mouth flew open to scream, but his hand closed on her throat and squeezed. A faint gurgle escaped instead and he shoved her up against his car, his smoky breath invading her nostrils. His other hand pinned her right hand to the window and his thin body crushed the air out of her lungs. “How about now, baby? Still think you can protect yourself? Don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Slip me a little something and I’ll make all the bad men go bye-bye.”

  Kamala summoned every last bit of strength left in her body and kneed him in the groin as hard as she could.

  The man howled and flopped to one side, clutching his crotch with one hand. She slammed her right elbow into his temple and he fell over with a pained groan. Kamala didn’t hesitate. She kicked him in the ribs once, twice, thrice, her eyes blurred with tears, her breathing ragged, her voice hoarse as she screamed “Fuck you!” over and over. She didn’t stop until the guy lay curled up in the fetal position, his arms cradling his ribs as he wheezed.

  Shaking from head to toe, she stumbled back over the sidewalk and into the front yard of her apartment. She dialed 911, sat down in the damp grass, and stared into the darkness until the sirens were audible.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  TERMINAL VELOCITY

  Kamala didn’t truly register most of the next hour until she heard a familiar baritone voice echoing through the hallway, not even with Faye at her side holding her hand. She glanced up from the paper cup half-full of coffee to see Jack barreling through the bullpen with hell in his brown eyes, demanding to know where she was. A faint smile brushed her lips when he saw her sitting by the detective’s desk and relief flooded over his entire expression.

  She stood up and set the coffee down, not resisting when he pulled her into a tight hug. Her eyes closed as he slid one large hand into her messy hair, the other around the small of her back, his lips pressed to her forehead. He didn’t say a word at first. He just held her. She let the whole world fall away for that small amount of time.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry, Kam.”

  “It’s not your fault,” she murmured into his shirt. “It’s no one’s fault but his.”

  He pulled away, cradling her face in both of his hands, fire in his gaze. “Where is he?”

  “Interrogation. It’s basically an open-and-shut case. Assault, harassment, extortion, trespassing. He won’t be seeing daylight any time soon.”

  “No, especially not after I wring his goddamn neck.” He started to move her aside, but she pressed her hand to his chest.

  “Jack, no. What’s done is done. Beating him into a pulp won’t do anything but get you in trouble as well.”

  “True, but it’ll make me feel better. Isn’t that reason enough?”

  She smiled weakly. “You’re such a Neanderthal.”

  “Ugh-ugh!” He exhaled and nodded a few times. “Alright, fine, I won’t kill him. Can’t promise what I’ll do if I see him before they put him in lockup.”

  “You and me both, brother,” Faye said, sipping Kamala’s coffee. Jack frowned as he realized she had a bandage on her left hand.

  “Uh, Faye? Do you have something you’d like to share with the rest of the class?”

  She stared steadily up at him. “Charlie dropped me off. They were taking the assailant into interrogation when I arrived. I got there first.”

  “And?”

  “Gave the bastard a black eye.”

  Jack grinned. “Atta girl.”

  Faye shrugged. “The cops weren’t happy about it, but they’re not pressing charges. After all, no one will believe a cute little thing like me did that to him.”

  “The perks of being beautiful. Glad I taught you how to throw a proper punch after all.”

  Jack returned his gaze to Kamala. “How much longer do they want you here?”

  “The paperwork’s all been filed. Once they get a confession, we’re free to go until the court date.”

  “Okay,” he said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear. “What do you need me to do?”

  Kamala found herself surprised at how that one question moved her. Her stomach churned, her throat got tight and narrow, and her eyes burned with tears. He hadn’t said anything different than what he would have if they were still just friends, and yet… it meant so much more now. She felt awful. Her head pounded, her eyes itched, her feet throbbed with pain from how many times she’d kicked the scumbag, and all she wanted to do was sleep. She was a complete and utter mess, and yet he barely seemed to register it. He looked at her as if she was something hanging in the Louvre, for gods’ sake.

  “Get me out of here,” she whispered. “Somewhere safe.”

  He wrapped her in his arms again. “You got it, angel.”

  ~*~

  She woke up in Jack’s bed.

  Notably, still wearing clothes.

  Jack wasn’t next to her this time. She wouldn’t have woken up at all if not for the heavenly aroma of coffee wafting in from the kitchen. She groaned and rolled her head to the side, spilling her dark hair out of the way so she could squint into the morning light. Her cell phone read half-past ten am. She hadn’t slept this late in ages.

  Her throat burned with pain, but faintly. She’d examined it herself and knew nothing was wrong aside from slight bruising. She hadn’t broken her foot kicking the assailant, but it would definitely be sore for a few days. Ibuprofen would do the trick in the meantime.

  She cuddled the warm pillow against her cheek and shut her eyes again, not wanting to rise and face the world just yet. A moment later she heard heavy footsteps and opened them to see Jack in his night attire: an old, wrinkled MIT t-shirt and light blue striped pajama pants. As always, his hair stuck straight up off his forehead and he smiled at her as if she were pure sunshine through a break in the storm clouds.

  “Morning,” he said, sitting next to her. “How’d you sleep?”

  Kamala wrinkled her brow, thinking about it. “Disturbingly well, considering the circumstances. You?”

  “Pretty girl in my bed. How do you think I slept?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Cheap flattery will get you nowhere, Dr. Jackson.”

  “True. That’s why I made coffee.”

  “My hero.” She slid from beneath the comforter and leaned in just enough to press a small, grateful kiss to his lips. He sighed contently and bumped her forehead with his.

  “Glad you’re okay.”

  “Me too.”

  To her surprise, the coffee wasn’t alone: there was also a hilariously enormous stack of pancakes next to the Keurig perched on his counter. She rubbed her stomach as it growled and got two mugs out of the cabinet while he got the paper plates and silverware. “Two meals in two days. I’m liking the five-star treatment.”

  “Tip of the iceberg,” he said. “I’m going to spoil you rotten. Home cooked meals, foot rubs, bubble baths; you name it, I’ll do it. Your wish is my command.”

  “I’m not used to being pampered, but I do like that foot massage idea.” She brou
ght the mugs over to the table and thanked him when he handed her the pancakes. To her utter delight, the pancakes were sublime. She skipped carbs as often as possible aside from the occasional pasta, so indulging in the breakfast treat for the first time in months made her sigh happily in between bites. Even better, he didn’t press her to talk during the meal. She needed the quiet to order her thoughts and stay calm after such an ordeal.

  Once her plate was clean, she wiped her mouth and glanced at her phone. “I overslept quite a lot. We should get going.”

  “Oh, that. Right. We’re taking the day off,” Jack said, collecting her plate and taking it to the trashcan.

  She stared after him. “Pardon me?”

  “We’ll work on the paper from home. It’ll give us time to catch up and get our ducks in a row.”

  Kamala crossed her arms. “Jack, we have a mountain of things to do. We can’t afford to take a day off.”

  “Then let’s call it a Work from Home Day. Want some more coffee?”

  “No, thank you. Look, I know that you’re trying to take care of me, but it’s not necessary. I’m fine.”

  Jack rinsed out their mugs and then came back over, taking a seat on arm of the couch. He folded his hands and met her gaze firmly. “Can I be honest with you for a second?”

  “Of course.”

  “The day after my Dad…” Jack winced. “The day after I broke my arm, I got out of the hospital and I went about my day like normal. My mom tried to make me stay home from school, but I insisted that she let me go, so I went. Around fourth period, I was at my locker and I was having trouble with the combination to get it open. It happened sometimes. Basically just a mild inconvenience most of the time. After about the fifth try, I snapped. I punched the door so hard that I caused a hairline fracture along the back of my hand. There was this huge dent in the middle of the locker door in the shape of my fist. They made me go to the office and wait for my mother to take me to the emergency room to get stitches.”

  He held out his hand. Kamala traced her fingertips over the edge of his knuckles and noticed that there were indeed tiny faded scars across his skin. He kept going. “My mother told me to stay home the next day and I didn’t fight her on it. Sometimes being fine isn’t enough. Sometimes we get so used to being strong that we’re actually making ourselves weaker by slapping a Band-Aid on the problem and marching on. Give yourself some time to deal with what just happened to you. It may not seem like it right now, but it will have an impact on you eventually. I just don’t want you to put your hand through a locker, metaphorical or otherwise.”

  Kamala digested his words before finally nodding. “You’re right. I hate it, but you’re right. If our situation were reversed, I’d have told you the same thing.”

  She shot him a playful look. “Not that you’d listen.”

  “Hey, I’d listen. Eventually.” He patted the side of her knee. “Come on. Let’s get to work.”

  Like all days off, it flew by at light-speed. One minute, they were sharing the couch and composing the scores and scores of data into comprehensible paragraphs and brightly colored charts, and the next she heard a knock at the door from the Chinese delivery guy with their dinner. After a whole carton of steamed white rice and vegetarian-style Lo Mein, she set her laptop aside and stretched out on the squishy cushions with an exhausted sigh.

  “I think my brain’s had enough for today.”

  “Seconded,” Jack said, shutting his own laptop. “We made quite a dent in it. I think we’ve earned a break.”

  Kamala tucked her hands beneath her head and shut her eyes as she listened to the faint melody of Al Green on the sound system. A moment later, she felt Jack’s hands lifting her feet into his lap and then wrapping around her right one. He started massaging the arch of her foot in slow, careful movements that led her to believe he’d done it before, and to marvelous effect.

  “Dr. Jackson,” she mused, not opening her eyes. “You’re trying to seduce me.”

  “Balderdash,” Jack said cheerfully. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  It didn’t take long for her to melt into the couch from the simple pleasure of his strong hands working out the tension in her injured foot. She very nearly drifted off to sleep, but managed to hold off as she considered if she should spend the night again or ask him to drop her off at her apartment. Her heart rate spiked at the thought of being there so soon after the attack. She forced herself to breathe slow and deep, and eventually the tension gathering in her belly eased. Too soon. Maybe just one more night.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Jack asked quietly.

  “Not yet,” she murmured back. “Need time.”

  “I understand. Wanna watch TV?”

  “No.”

  “Wanna watch a movie?”

  “No.”

  He paused. “Want me to shut up and keep rubbing your feet?”

  “Or something else,” she said, and then immediately realized that had been aloud instead of just inside her head.

  Jack went absolutely still. Kamala cursed herself a few thousand times and sat up, slipping her feet from beneath his warm hands. “Sorry. Not thinking clearly.”

  “It’s okay. We’re both adults here. I’ll, uh, start on the dishes.” He rose and headed for the kitchen.

  Kamala ran a hand through her hair and sighed, forcing herself to speak up. “Jack, wait.”

  He stopped in mid-stride.

  “Maybe you should just take me back to the apartment.”

  He didn’t turn around. “Why?”

  “Because… I’m not…” She struggled with the words at first. “I feel safe when I’m with you. Safer than I’ve felt in a long time, and the more we’re alone, the more likely it is that I’ll do something stupid.”

  “And what constitutes as ‘stupid,’ exactly?”

  “I haven’t had sex in almost a year. For personal reasons. And yet all I can think about when we’re alone is throwing you on this couch and tearing your clothes off. Last time I checked, that’s probably a stupid thing to do right now.”

  “Stupid isn’t exactly the word I would use, but go on.”

  “I like you,” she whispered, as if scared that saying it too loudly would make it more true, more dangerous, more potent. “I don’t want to mess this up. You’re too important to me.” She stared at her toes and listened to the carpet creak slightly as he walked towards her.

  He knelt in front of her and tipped her chin upward so she’d look at him. “I’m not going anywhere. Neither are you. You can’t mess this up because I’m too damned stubborn to let you go even if the worst should happen. If you want to wait, we’ll wait. If you need me right now, I’m here. It’s not about timing. It’s about what will make you the happiest. Tell me what that is and I promise I’ll do my best to make it happen.” He smiled. “I can even recite those famous Bible verses, if it makes you feel any better. Love is patient. Love is kind. It does not envy—”

  She kissed him. He forgot how to breathe. He forgot basic mathematics. He forgot his entire college education, how to change a tire, how to boil rice, and how to tie his shoes. The only thing that existed in the entire universe, as far as his mind was concerned, was Dr. Kamala Sahana Anjali.

  She drew away just enough to whisper one thing.

  “Take me to bed.”

  ~*~

  “I’ve officially made up my mind.”

  With tremendous effort, Kamala pried her heavy eyelids open and tilted her head enough to glance up at Jack. “Have you, now?”

  “Yep,” he said. “No one on earth is allowed to call me Rhett except for you.”

  She snorted, lifting her eyebrows in question. “And why is that?”

  He flicked his gaze down at her, his smirk steamy. “Because no one’s said it the way you did a couple minutes ago.”

  She propped her head up on one arm and returned the
smirk with the same amount of heat. “To be fair, I had good reason to say it that way.”

  “Either way, kudos. That was the sexiest goddamn thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  She shook her head, but leaned in all the same to press a kiss to his lips. “Glad I could impress you, Dr. Jackson.”

  He waggled his eyebrows. “I like the doctor part too. Let’s definitely make that a thing.”

  She laughed. “Noted.”

  He rolled onto his side and curled an arm around her waist, drawing circles over the small of her back with his fingertips. Her eyes dropped closed for a while as she enjoyed the simple sensation and the cocoon of warmth created by their bare bodies beneath the sheets. She hadn’t known what to expect crossing the line from friends to lovers, but so far, her fears had been unfounded. She felt calm. Relaxed. Peaceful. That hadn’t been the case for her in a long time. She was pretty sure she’d made the right call. Not that she’d ever admit as much to Faye.