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I move to the front window, just off to the side, out of sight. Who is he? Why is he with her? Is this...Keith. That awful emotion roars through me again. Jealousy. I can't say I've ever felt it in my life, until the day I learned Janey had a boyfriend. It's an uncomfortable, crawling sensation running through my stomach. I hate it.
I'm trying to figure out what to do, how to approach her, when the man snatches up Janey's cup of coffee and throws it straight at her, hitting her in the face.
I don't remember moving. I don't remember going into the diner. I don't remember grabbing him. But here I am, standing over him as he scrabbles around on the floor. I turn back to Janey, everything in me breaking to see a trickle of blood on her cheekbone and her red, burned skin.
"Jonas," she whispers, eyes wide. My body wants to go to her, but my mind wants to hurt the man on the floor. To make sure he understands how wrong he is. The decision is taken out of my hands as the squeak of boots on the floor behind me warns me he's coming. I turn just in time to meet his attack. He's a big man, nearly six feet. I'm bigger. It's obvious that he knows how to fight. It's also obvious I know more.
My brothers taught me to fight when I was younger, but ever since Becca, Kade's wife, came into the picture and proved herself to be a ninja, I've been spending more time at the dojo with her. The man in front of me is vicious, clearly. But there is no way I'm not the one walking out of here with Janey. I will not allow any other outcome.
I learned early in my life that most things come down to will, and who wants it more.
I want her more.
It takes less than a minute to drop him. I don’t play, or use any of the fancy moves I’ve learned. I go for brute force, hammering at him until he's on the floor bleeding. A wave of intense rightness flows through me. He makes her bleed? I make him bleed worse. The symmetry in it is satisfying.
He's moaning but isn't going to be getting up anytime soon. I back away and turn to face Janey, wiping my palms down the side of my pants. Her eyes are still wide, and her hands are covering her mouth. I can't quite puzzle out if she's scared or upset. Sometimes they look the same to me. But right now, I can't focus on it. All I can see is the blood on her cheek and the reddened skin on her neck. I spin, catching the waitress's eyes briefly.
"First Aid kit and ice." She nods and hurries away. I spin back to Janey, moving toward her. She flinches, and my feet freeze to the floor. I swallow, worry pooling in my stomach.
"Are...are you afraid of me?" I ask her. I'm desperate to touch her. To help her. To take care of her. But if she's afraid...
She drops her hands, still staring at me with wide eyes. "What are you doing here?"
She didn't answer my question. I don't think I actually want an answer. If she's afraid of me...
"Y-you left your coat at work. I brought it to your apartment, but you weren't there. You haven't been there. For a month." My voice rises at the end. I take more deep breaths, but they're not really helping anymore. All of this is so wrong.
Her shoulders roll forward, and she seems to sink into herself, but the waitress arriving with the first aid kit and ice saves her from replying. I let the silence between us grow as I dig through the kit for antiseptic wipes. I tear one open, staring at her cheek. Moving slower than a sloth, I bring it to her cheek, darting glances at her eyes to make sure she's okay. She bites her lip and winces with the first stroke of the pad across her cheek, another wince with the second. My body's a mix of rage that anyone dared hurt her and sadness that I couldn't prevent it. If only I'd come in sooner. Or stopped the bus.
The endless loop of what if's threatens to suck me in, so I shake my head and focus on the job at hand, taking care of Janey. I pull an ice cube out of the bag, and let it melt in my hand, creating a pool in my palm, then use a napkin to soak up the water. When it's wet enough, I gently tip her chin up, letting the light hit all the red skin. There are red spots on her forehead and her other cheek, and I stroke them gently with the napkin. Her eyes flutter closed as I work slowly, methodically, to clean her pale skin.
My sisters-in-law are strong women, physically and mentally, Becca and Evie both standing close to six feet with generous curves. Cara's just as strong. Janey's not as tall as they are, but somehow, to me, she took up more space. Whenever she's in the room, everything else shrinks until all I can see is her. But tonight, maybe for the first time, she seems fragile.
I've used that word to describe her before, but never physically. There's an emotional fragility to Janey that's clear to me. It was in the way she spoke about herself the day we promoted her to HR. It was in how she held herself like she was preparing for the rug to be yanked out from under her. I see it because I used to see it in the mirror every day. I lived a big chunk of my life waiting for the next disaster. But slowly, with a lot of time and security, I settled.
I'm going to do whatever I have to do to help Janey see she can depend on me. On all of us.
I follow the red skin as far as I can into the neck of her sweater, then stop and lock eyes with her. I don't do this often. Most of the time, I find it too overwhelming. But I need to see Janey. And I want her to see me. So I hold it as long as I can, trying to understand how we got here. Where it all went wrong. My wooing plan was a disaster from day one.
"Your skin is probably red under your shirt. Do you want me to..."
The rest of the skin on her cheeks pinkens. "No. It's okay. It doesn't hurt. I'll take care of it later." She wets her lips again and drops her eyes to my chin, letting me off the hook. "I don't know what to say to you. About any of this."
"Start with why. Please. Why didn't you come to us?"
She opens her mouth to reply, but a wet chuckle from behind us interrupts her.
"Woo, Janey. Is this one of them? Way to go. Seriously, I didn't realize you already had your hooks in one."
I'm going to make him shut up. I don't like the sound of his voice, like metal dragging on the pavement, and I really don't like the way he's talking to Janey. Her hand on my arm stops me. I stand, frozen, waiting. I don't know what for, exactly. But if she wants me to stop, I stop. It's been like this from the first moment she touched me all those months ago. She put her small hand on my arm as she chatted up at me, and everything went still.
She slides in front of me, which I don't fucking like. Not a bit. I put my hands on her shoulders and move her beside me. She frowns up at me, and normally, that would make me crumble, trying to figure out where I went wrong. But when it comes to her safety, I'm immovable.
"Do not stand in front of me. If he manages to get up, I need you safe." Eyes wide, she nods at me and lets me position her slightly behind me. I try to get her further back but stop when she lets out a small sound and glares at the man on the floor.
"You should go, Mark. I don't think there's anything left to say."
He pushes himself to sit, leaning back against the wall near the door, blood leaking from his nose. Both eyes are already swelling. "Oh, there's a fuck of a lot more to say. Did I just get beat up by a rich fucker? It must be my lucky day. Looks like there's a payday in my future."
