Chapter 167
748 Words
Chris was supposed to be checking the electrical system on a motorcycle, but he was having a hell of a time staying focused. He just couldn’t stop thinking about Jenny’s face when she'd woken up in his arms that morning. She’d stared at him for a few seconds, and then without a word, she’d jumped out of bed and locked herself in the bathroom.
He’d been frozen with fear and worry, and he’d knocked on the door for five minutes before she’d finally answered. Repeated requests for her to let him in had been refused, and she told him he should go to work, because she wasn’t coming out until he was gone. So now here he was, scared out of his mind and screwing up a job, wondering if she was afraid of him now that they’d made love.
But she seemed OK last night… she was so soft and sweet after. I thought last night was the beginning for us – I wanted to ask her if she’d be mine, and if I could be hers. Exclusive and formal and all that. Be together because we want to be together, not because I'm helping her as some kind of non-qualified s*x surrogate. Goddammit. I must have done something to f**k up so bad. But what?
Matt 'King' Kingston sauntered over now. “What the f**k, Brooker?”
Chris glanced up at his boss. “What’s wrong?”
“Seriously?” King’s deep voice was a low growl. “You paying any attention at all to what you’re doing?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Bullshit, man.” King crossed his gigantic arms. “What’s going on?”
Chris was silent.
“Is it Jenny?”
Chris started. “How’d you know about her?”
“Jesus Christ, Chris. You’ve been on the phone with her every day for months. You think I’m a moron?”
“No.”
“No, it’s not Jenny, or no, I’m not a moron?”
“No, you aren’t a moron. And yes, it’s Jenny.”
King narrowed his gray eyes. “You want to tell me?”
Chris almost laughed out loud. At a towering and tattooed six-foot-five-inches and two-hundred-seventy pounds, with dark hair and dark gray eyes, King was the last person in the world who looked like he’d be up for a talk about feelings. Besides, he’d probably listen, and then tell Chris to stop being such a f*****g p***y and talk to the chick, already. Which would be great advice if he was sure she wasn’t utterly terrified of him.
“No, it’s OK, King. Thanks anyway.”
King stood there, not moving. “It wasn’t a request.”
“What?”
“When my best employee is acting like a f*****g space cadet and screwing up easy work, I want to know where his head is. So tell me.”
Chris stared. “Really?”
King huffed. “Don’t get me wrong, man. I’m not thrilled to go all Oprah like this, but I can listen. So talk.”
“Uh… well. It’s kind of complicated.”
“It’s about a woman, Brooker. Of course it’s f*****g complicated.”
So Chris told King about Jenny. Not everything, of course; he didn’t betray her confidence by going into detail about her attack, but King got the idea. His hard, rugged face went still as he heard about Jenny’s fear of men, and his eyes flashed fire when Chris told him about her panic attacks.
“And then last night, we finally… we finally… you know.” Chris stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. “Made love.”
King sighed. “And is she OK?”
“I don’t know. She was last night. She fell asleep next to me, no problem. But when she woke up this morning, she took one look at me and locked herself in the bathroom.” Chris was quiet for a few seconds. “I heard her crying through the door, but she wouldn’t let me in.”
“s**t, Chris.” King actually looked distressed. “No wonder you’re all over the f*****g place today.”
“I’m so worried that I scared her,” Chris said. “That all the progress we made is just… gone.”
King shook his head. “It’s not.”
“How do you know?”
“I don’t,” King admitted. “I guess I’m just hoping.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
- Writer
