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The softly spoken word and the desperation behind it caught him by surprise.
She was scared.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “I’m going to take a seat at one of the tables and wait for you. Take your time, and you are completely safe. I promise.”
Paying, he took the tray and moved towards one of the tables near a stained-glass window where he could see the front parking lot, as well as the cashier counter where Mary was. No, if that guy came back… he would be in serious trouble.
Nobody was going to talk to his girlfriend, friend, whatever Mary wanted to be called, like that – ever.
As he sat there at the table, he pretended to be focused on his phone, but was watching Mary through his eyelashes.
She was alone, taking a few deep breaths, and trying to compose herself… just like a terrorized person would – and he just knew in that moment deep in his gut that she’d been a victim.
Of what, he wasn’t exactly sure… but someone had hurt her badly.
He really was surprised that she’d given him a chance considering how she reacted, and treasured the fact that she had actually smiled at him last night, giving him her phone number.
Yes, this woman, his girl, was very protective for a reason, reinforcing the need to take things slow. As she removed her apron, grabbed a cup of coffee, and walked over towards him, he saw her checking the windows up front.
Yep.
She was scared of that man, and he didn’t want to pressure her for more information. If that was someone she knew, she would tell him when she was comfortable… and as a friend? She really wasn’t obliged to share anything with him unless she wanted to – and then he would listen, offer support, and be that gentle person she could turn to or trust.
“Is it time already?” he said easily, smiling at her.
“Hi,” Mary said nervously, taking a seat and looking out the window again. It was so easy to read her, and he wanted her to be at ease.
“Do you want my seat so you can keep an eye out?” he said softly. “I’m not going to let him bother you, and…”
“That was my ex-husband,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes, her voice full of shame and embarrassment.
“I wondered.”
“He knows where I live, so it doesn’t matter if we are here or anywhere else, although this might make him even angrier.”
“What happens if he gets angry? What does it matter?”
Mary looked at him, her expression stark in that moment before she hid it – and he nodded in silent understanding.
“I figured that too,” he said gently, ducking his head as she tried to look away from him. “Mary, I’m not the enemy, and I am certainly not your ex. I’m your friend and…”
“He’s going to be mad if he sees us…”
“Can I tell you a secret?”
“What?”
“He’s going to be mad anyway – most bullies are. I remember when I was growing up, I used to get picked on all the time by this one kid and I will never forget it. Trace Feldman. Gosh, he was such a twerp,” Jax laughed softly, seeing her expression soften slightly as she began to relax.
He unwrapped the two slices of cake and continued speaking, hoping that she would open up to him, too.
“The guy made fun of everything – my name, my height, my braces, the fact that my parents have a small farm…”
“They do?”
“Yeah,” he smiled. “The bus used to pick me up at the main road and Trace would be right there waiting… and one day? I’d had it. He knocked my books out of my hands for the billionth time, talked about how ugly I was, how my clothes looked bad, and how I smelled like the sheep my parents raised… and sheep really stink,” he muttered emphatically, shaking his head.
… And heard her laugh.
