You're Not Broken (12 page)

Chapter
Fifteen

              Colton was a bit larger than Peytonville but not by much. It was quite easy to find which bar Al had been in. There were two cop cars outside it and a growing crowd ringing the cars.

              Jason pulled up right behind the crowd and stepped out, cutting through the throng of people like Moses through the Red Sea. Kat quickly followed in his wake.

              The bar was a decent sized place that had character to it. You could tell it had been around for a couple dozen years. But that wasn’t what Kat noticed first. As she stepped into the place, her jaw dropped.

              Everything was smashed.

              Stools were turned over, glasses were shattered across the floor, a table lay smashed in the corner. The bar looked like a tornado had passed through. Picture frames that had been hanging on the wall lay in splinters on the floor. Bottles of alcohol were rolling everywhere, some with liquid still pouring out.

              One man had done this?

              Jason stood in front of her, assessing the damage. He then spotted a shadowed figure in the far corner, slumped and nearly unconscious.

              Jason and Kat rushed over.

              Al was bleeding from the forearms all the way to his knuckles. He must’ve literally smashed everything with his own two fists. His gray hair was matted with wood chips and thrown booze.

              “Al? Al, you alright, man?” Jason asked, helping to lean the old man back against the wall.

              Al’s eyes were glazed over and Kat could see a shiny purple bruise beginning to bloom under his right eye. “Fuck it,” the old man murmured. “Just…fuck it.”

              “Take a deep breath, Al,” Jason said calmly. “And stay here. Kat will watch over you.”

              Kat took the cue and kneeled next to the man. She took off her jacket and rolled it up to make as a makeshift pillow for him. She looked up and saw Jason watching her, his eyes inscrutable. He nodded and then walked towards the police officers and what was clearly one irate bar owner.

              Al leaned against the wall, his head cushioned by her jacket. “Just fuck it,” he mumbled again, his eyes closed.

              Kat carefully brushed his wild hair back from his face, making sure the woodchips fell away from his eyes. “Shh,” she said. “Shhh.”

              Al grimaced and then groaned. “I…I don’t want to hear it anymore,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to smell it.”

              Kat looked around, wondering if the man was feeling nauseous from the smell of booze which was heavy, thanks to all the spilt bottles.

              “Smell what, Al?” Kat asked gently as she tried to sweep away some of the nearby bottles.

              “The blood,” Al answered, his eyes still squeezed shut. “The smoke. I hear them every…everyday. Every fucking day.” Suddenly the man opened his eyes, his gaze clear and piercing. “I can’t live with it anymore.”

              Kat stared at the man, his words hitting her like a cold waterfall.

              He was an old soldier. He had seen too much death and too much battle. It had permanently dented his soul and the man was fighting every day to keep his sanity.

              A shiver passed through her and a wave of goosebumps dotted her back. That description sounded eerily familiar. She turned around and watched Jason’s straight back and tall frame as he talked calmly with the police, trying to resolve Al’s damage.

              Was that what he did? Was that what Jason struggled with everyday? As he came to work and joked around with Malcolm and teased Janelle, is that what he did on the inside—fight against these dark demons with nothing but his own determination and will?             

              “You motherfucking bastard,” a voice growled from behind Kat.

              Kat turned to her right and saw a man almost as bloody and bruised as Al struggling to his feet. He must’ve been in that far corner the whole time yet she had not noticed him.

              The man stumbled to his feet, glaring at Al. “You think you can come into my town and try to start shit?” he nearly roared. He bent over and fumbled to pick up a broken beer bottle, the jagged edges glinting in the low lights of the bar.

              “Not on my watch, asshole,” he said. “No on my fucking watch!”

              With a roar, he lunged at them. Kat screamed as she threw herself over the nearly unconscious Al.

              But instead of feeling the sharp pain of a bottle stab or the drunken bloody mess of a bar brawler, she felt the steady heat of Jason Daniels as he stood in front of her, holding up the arm of the attacker.

              “Now, take a breath, man,” Jason said calmly, holding the attacker’s wrist high above his head.

              “Fuck you,” the man snarled.

              Jason gave him a humorless smile. “Not today,” he said. He neatly twisted the arm behind the man’s back and then shoved him in the direction of the cops who immediately took him into custody.

              Jason kneeled down, putting a large hand against Kat’s cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked.

              She nodded. “I’m fine,” she said, letting out a shaky breath.

              Jason carefully looked over her once more to make sure before taking her word. “Okay, let’s get Al back home. He’ll need to come back to go to court for the charges but I think we can get him off if we can cover the cost of damages. It sounds like the brawl hadn’t been instigated by him.” Jason hefted Al up. “Al just did the most damage.”

              Together, the three of them made their way back out.

***

              Jason gently laid out the older man onto his bed. Kat came into the bedroom carrying a bowl of cool water and a washcloth. Jason looked surprise.

              “I used to do this a lot for my uncle before he died,” Kat said, holding up the bowl. “It’s not the same thing, I know. But before he died, he was always getting terrible migraines. But pain is pain.” She sat on the edge of the bed and wrung out the cloth before gently dabbing at the man’s forehead. “And comfort is comfort.”

              There was silence behind her as she worked before she heard a quiet, “Thank you.”

              Kat placed the washcloth over Al’s forehead before turning around. But there was no one there behind her.

              She walked out into the living room and saw Jason pouring himself a stiff drink.

              “It’s always hard,” he said, as if speaking to himself, “to see one of your own fall like that.” He tossed back the drink in a single gulp. “It’s not right what he did—going on a bender like that. But I understand it. Fuck, do I understand it.”

              Kat watched him pour out another drink.

              “Do you get flashbacks as well?” she asked. PTSD must be the norm for men like him.

              Jason gave a tight shrug before tossing back the second drink. “I can control them,” he said.

              Even in the dim light of the loft, she saw the muscle twitch under his eye. Could he really?

How many sleepless nights had he endured to fight off the waves of pain and memories that fought to crush him?

              “Al’s a good man,” Jason said, as if feeling the need to defend his old friend. “He had it rough when he was in. But he’s a good man. He does odd work for Brothers Construction and is good when he’s sober.” Jason’s hand paused over the bottle, as if debating whether to pour himself another drink. “But every once in awhile, it gets…too heavy for him.”

              Too heavy.

              Yes, Kat could imagine how heavy the burden of all those memories could be.

              Two years ago, Kat had seen a strained soldier who was not looking forward to another mission. She had seen the struggle behind his eyes. But even then, there had been a glimmer of his boyishness still alive. There had been a sweetness to his charm.

              But now, the man who stood before her looked like he had been put into an oven to harden. No longer was there that boyishness. Everything about him was hard, rough, and jagged. This was all man.

              Kat’s heart broke a little for what had clearly been lost in the past two years for Jason.

              She stepped forward, reaching out to touch his face the way he had touched hers at the bar.

              But Jason jerked back. He turned and with a sudden and unexpected force, threw his fist into the wall. It felt as if the whole loft shifted.

              Kat immediately stepped back, her heart racing in hear and shock. Jason lowered his fist, the knuckles red and raw. She could see the line of every muscle in his back, tense and poised for action. Small tremors ran through him as if he was trying to hold himself together. Finally, he turned around.

              She could see the extreme tension of his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, remaining frozen a few paces away.

Kat stared at him. She had never seen this side of him before. It was as if he was fighting something with his entire being. But she could tell it was a losing battle. He was struggling.

She took a hesitant step towards him. When he didn't’ stop her, she took another and another until she was right behind him. Gently, she placed a hand against his back. She saw his muscles flinch against her touch. “Jason,” she said softly, afraid of him yet more afraid
for
him, “let me help you. I can stay.”

Jason’s body felt like a frozen statue under her hand.

“Stay?” he echoed, his eyes staring off.

Kat nodded. “I can stay. We can talk if you’d like. You don’t have to be alone tonight.”

Jason slowly turned around. Kat was just barely able to stop herself from stepping back in automatic fear. His dark green eyes looked nearly black in the dim lights. It was clear whatever he was fighting was slowly winning and taking over him. There was no softness in his face, no familiarity. His eyes looked dark…and dead.

And then with the lightening quick reflexed of a trained soldier, he grabbed her by the back of her neck and yanked her hard against his chest. Without giving her a chance to gasp, Jason crushed his lips against her, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth.

Kat pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push back but Jason kept a firm hold around her waist and neck, leaving her no room to budge. The heat of his touch seared her skin. His tongue played with hers, expertly teasing and taunting her.

“You stay tonight,” he breathed against her lips, breaking their kiss before plunging his tongue back in again, “and I can’t promise you safety.” His grip on the back of her neck tightened, squeezing her almost painfully. “I can’t be gentle. I’m not gentle.”

His hand moved from her waist up to her breasts, squeezing them tightly. “Stay tonight,” he warned, “and you’ll get bruised.”

Kat was completely breathless from the onslaught of Jason’s touches. She futilely fought against him but at the same time felt her body heat at his touch. She felt that burning flame of something forbidden and fiery grow within her. But looking up at his dark eyes, she knew this wasn’t how she wanted it. Yes, she wanted Jason. But this wasn’t Jason. This was the dark trauma that currently terrorized Jason. She didn't want their first time together to be like this.

Kat pushed against Jason’s chest again and this time, he let her go. Actually, he almost threw her away from him as if forcing himself to let go of his prey. He seemed so at war with himself.