Visibly Broken Read online

  Chapter 5

  Lo

  After working my shift, I walk outside and quickly toward my vehicle. I hear a whistle, and the hair on the back of my neck immediately stands up. I quicken my pace.

  “Hey.” I hear a gruff voice call from behind me. “Hey, you! Stop.”

  I run to my car and jump in, locking it behind me. My hand shakes as I shove the key into the ignition. Then I hear a tap on the window as I start the car.

  I am afraid to look, but when the knock is harder this time, I force myself to.

  I immediately recognize the man, the patient from last night, the one who was beaten. He motions for me to roll down my window, and when I don’t, he cocks his head to the side and looks confused.

  I roll it down just enough that I can hear him, but not enough for him to be able to reach in.

  “Name’s Jason. I’m almost positive I owe you a thank-you for last night.”

  I nod and force a smile. “You’re welcome.”

  His head cocks again, and he glances around then back at me. “You okay?”

  “Of course,” I answer.

  “You sure about that? You took off running like you had a reason to. You took care of me, Nurse…?”

  “Lorraine,” I answer in a whisper.

  “All right, Lorraine.” He nods then sighs. “Look, I owe you for sticking around last night—”

  “I was just doing my job, Jason. Glad to help and glad you’re okay.”

  “I owe you one, okay? If you ever need anything”—he pauses then pulls out a pen and tears off a piece of what I assume is his discharge paper and jots something down—“you call me.”

  When I don’t reach up, he allows the paper to drop in through the gap in the window.

  “Thanks.”

  He nods. “Like I said, I owe you.”

  When he steps back, I quickly put the car in drive and pull out of the parking lot as my heart beats nearly out of my chest.

  I look at the clock. It’s nearly midnight. I don’t understand why he is being released so late. It frightens me, yet he was kind.

  His name is Jason.

  —

  As soon as my front tires hit the paved driveway of my home, I press the garage door opener and race into the garage, quickly hitting the remote to close it behind me. As always, I wait until it is completely closed, look around the well-lit garage, and see Boots sitting on the stairs, waiting for me.

  I take a deep breath and get out. Then I close the door behind me and lock it.

  “You happy to see me?” I ask just like I do every time I return home. Our routine is the same, as I allow him to walk in a figure-eight pattern between my feet and he rubs against my legs. “That’s a fine welcome home, Sir Boots. It never gets old.”

  I squat down and scratch under his chin, behind his ears, and then run my hand down his back a few times before standing up, grabbing the bat that sits by the door, and then punching in the code to unlock the house.

  The lights automatically go on inside, and I take a deep breath and step in.

  I scan the room as I close the door behind me. Without looking I lock the door, using the three dead bolts, and then punch in the code to the security system.

  I walk around the kitchen to make sure each window is locked before checking the dining room then heading across the hall to the family room. I then peek my head in my parents’ old room; the closet doors are wide open and empty, as is the room.

  After inspecting all their windows, I head to the bathroom, making sure to look behind the shower curtain. Everything checks out.

  “Come on, Boots.” I call him to the bathroom.

  He walks in, and then I lock the door, dead-bolting it.

  I undress fast then start the shower. I brush my teeth, wash my face, use the toilet, close the lid, set a towel on top of it, and Boots jumps up and sits while I get in the shower.

  I wash and condition my hair, shave my underarms, and then quickly shave my legs. I scrub my body with an accustomed swiftness and am out of the shower in seven minutes. Then I dress in the nightclothes that I brought in this morning, towel off my hair, and then brush it.

  With a deep breath, I grab the bat and unlock the door. I open it then walk out, looking ahead at the stairs that I hate.

  I grab two bottles of water from the kitchen then look at the clock, starting to feel that anxiety rise.

  “Come on, Boots,” I call to him as I walk to the doorway and punch in the code to the thick, steel door. As soon as I open it, Boots heads down the stairs.

  I step on the landing, close the door behind me, lock it up tight, and walk down the stairs to the basement where Socks is waiting for us.

  “Did you have a good day?” I ask as he does his normal stretch.

  I take the keys next to the door to my room and unlock it. The lights automatically come on, and once the cats are inside, I lock the door.

  I set the water on the small table. Then I bend down to pick Socks up.

  “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to make sure of it. We’re not alone. She’s gonna help us. She’s gonna figure out what happened, and then the whole street can play and laugh and maybe even sleep again.”

  I set him in the recliner near the bed with his brother then pick up the picture of my family. I run my finger over the frame then the side of each of their cheeks and whisper, “I won’t let you down again. She’s gonna help us.”

  —

  It’s morning. I know it. Not because the sunlight is peeking through the windows or because I can hear the birds awakening me with their chirping. I know it because the clock says so.

  I swing my feet over the side of the twin bed then push my feet into my slippers. I quickly change into my clothes and run a brush through my hair. I grab the bat and the small basket of dirty clothes, unlock the door, and slowly walk out of the room.

  I look around and let out my held breath. “Come on, scaredy-cats; everything is good. Everything is fine. See?” I lock the door behind me then place the keys behind the wall hanging, hidden away but very close by.

  I ascend the stairs then unlock and open the door from the finished basement to the upstairs. My body tenses, but I know I am fine.

  I push the door open and walk out, closing it, then locking it behind me. I walk through the house, ready to face the day.

  After I warm up breakfast, I go about putting laundry in the washer and decide to dust and vacuum. I know it’s a good day when I want to vacuum. The noise from the machine forces the cats to hide in a different room. The vacuum’s roar fills the silent home, a home in which you could normally hear a pin drop.

  On a good day, I can get through the entire downstairs without fear that something or someone will come from behind and grab me.

  When the vacuum is put away and I feel as though I have accomplished something, I decide to open the curtains and let the light in. The cats love lying in the window seats in my parents’ room and the living room, allowing the sun to warm them and revitalize them. I used to as well.

  Chapter 6

  Jason

  Brock pulls up, thanks to my quick text to him. The step up into his Ford F250 truck is hard, but I breathe through the pain. I need to keep pushing no matter how bad it gets.

  My head spins and my vision blurs, making me wonder how bad my injuries are. Then again, I can’t go back inside, so it doesn’t really matter. Mentally, I have to stay aware of what is going on, and if I get worse, I can always look on the Internet for home remedies. Either way, staying in the hospital is not an option. No one can know it was Jason Stanley lying in that hospital bed. No one can know about the fights, especially the one last night.

  We pull out of the hospital parking lot, and I can’t help smiling when I see we are behind the angel Lorraine’s car. I have to know more about her, like why she seemed so jumpy when I approached. What is her story?

  “Follow that car. I wanna see where she goes.”

  Brock smirks. “Damn, Cobra, do
n’t you think you should get rid of Missy first? She’s liable to claw your eyes out if she finds out you’re on the scout.”

  I close my eyes. He is right about that. Only, I don’t think she would claw my eyes out as much as she would put my balls in a vise, yet still try to ride my dick while I slowly lose circulation in my favorite man parts.

  “I ended it,” I say on a sigh.

  “You ended it, and she didn’t stab you or cut your balls off? When did that happen?”

  “Today,” I mutter, taking in Lorraine’s Ford Focus.

  It’s not what I would expect for someone in their early twenties like me, and there is no way she is much older than I am. Of course, she has to be obviously college educated in order to be a nurse. She must make a solid income since she drives a newer car.

  Brock is rambling on about Missy and what a mess the two of us are. I watch her pull into a decent neighborhood. It’s not a gated community, but it certainly isn’t the ghetto. The houses are cookie-cutter, American dream homes. She pulls into a two-story colonial’s driveway.

  Brock starts to follow.

  “No,” I say, clipped. “Keep driving.”

  Mentally, I take down her address: 415 Hollow Terrace.

  “You wanna tell me what’s going on?” Brock asks as he drives loops around the cul-de-sac.

  I don’t want to tell him, because I really don’t know. Regardless, he isn’t going to let me off the hook that easily; it’s just not how we are.

  “Ever meet someone and feel like you need to know more about them instantly?”

  “That’s some of that movie bullshit women believe in.” He laughs at me, which only agitates me further. He looks over at me then; his eyes meet mine and he sees I’m serious. “You got the shit beat out of you. It’s fucking with your head.” He tries to excuse my mindset.

  “Yeah, speaking of, you wanna tell me what the hell happened to me?”

  He sighs. “Man, I’m sorry. They held me back. I couldn’t get to you.” I see the marks on his neck and the black eye I hadn’t noticed in my haste to leave the hospital. “By the time I did, you were knocked out, swelling and shit. I got you to the hospital, but given what happened, I couldn’t stay and answer questions.”

  I understand. If the shoe had been on the other foot, I would have done the same thing. With the league we are in, no way could he explain my injuries. The best thing he could do for me was drop me off and run.

  We pull up to my place, and Brock comes up to help me pack a bag.

  “You know she’s gonna go bat-shit crazy,” he says, confirming what I already know without a single doubt in my mind.

  “If you have such strong feelings about Missy and the safety of my balls, why didn’t you say something before?”

  He doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t hesitate, and he doesn’t avoid my eyes. Brock lays it out straight like he always does. “You two have this twisted way that you seem to get off on.” He shrugs. “I figured you liked fighting with her.”

  The truth hurts. I find it sad that even outsiders think we get off on the pain.

  “Is that the kind of man you take me for?”

  My longtime friend looks me straight on. “Yeah. Where the hell have you been? You do get off on it. She does, too. It’s just the way you guys work. I don’t know if it’s the shit with Tatiana and Hitmaker or the blow you took to your head, but I’m glad you’re ending this before she fucking cuts your ass…or worse.”

  Before we can make our exit, the shit storm that is my ex-girlfriend blows in.

  “Jason, you are not leaving me!” she screams as Brock takes a bag of clothes and necessities out to the truck.

  I only needed to get a few things and the keys to my car and bike so I can get set up somewhere else. If she doesn’t pour bleach on the rest of my shit or light it on fire, I will get it once I have a new place to call home.

  She slaps at my chest. My body is already in pain, and she only brings the blood rushing to the skin, making it sting with every hit.

  “You. Are. Not. Leaving. Me.”

  “It’s done, Missy. Get your hands off me.”

  When she slaps me hard across my swollen and battered face, I step back. My cheek throbs and my head pounds, but I will not give her what she wants.

  “Come on, Jason, give it back to me. Give me something. Don’t you leave!”

  I step to the side, and she steps with me.

  I just want to get away from her. I want out.

  “This isn’t healthy.” I want to give in to the monster inside me. However, I know if I do, I will hate myself for it and then feel the need to comfort her. The cycle will begin again when this has to stop now.

  She swings her purse at my head. The chain catches on my cheek and cuts me open. I feel the blood run down, but I don’t advance on her, even as my every instinct screams at me to teach her a lesson.

  If you want to hit someone like a man, be ready to take it back like a man, whether you have a dick or not.

  She is pushing me. I will not give in to my urges. I will not put my hands on her. She will not get me to that place.

  She keeps swinging her purse at my face and head. I back up. I clench my fists open and closed.

  I want to hit her. I want to give her the pain. I want to let the rage explode. I have to get out of here.

  Brock comes back in and watches, wide-eyed.

  “Missy, fucking stop it, bitch!” my longtime friend commands, but she only swings harder.

  “Bitch! Yeah, I’m a bitch! Jason made me this way!” Tears stream down her face. “Look at what you’ve done to me! Look, Jay! Look at the mess you’ve made of me, of us. You can’t leave. You can’t leave me like this.”

  Reaching out, I grab each of her arms firmly, and she freezes, bracing for impact.

  Picking her up, I move her out of my way, and then I walk off toward Brock with her chasing me. She jumps on my back while I keep walking, dragging her out with me. I am twice her size. I could easily knock her out. However, I’m fighting the darkness inside of me. I will not hurt her.

  “Missy, stop this now. It’s over. This isn’t healthy,” I say, choking as she wraps her arms around my neck, trying to hold on to me. At the doorway, I reach up and force her wrists apart. “Done, Missy. We’re done.”

  Pushing back, she falls on her ass, crying out as I keep walking. I don’t look back.

  —

  I drop my stuff in the room at the Extended Stay and quickly follow up with my boss so that my job won’t be in jeopardy from my absence. I got lucky the fight was on a Friday night. Now I just need to get a few days off to heal so no one will question what my outside activities are. I can take this time to find a new place to live and get my shit from Missy’s. I’ll also take the cash for the next three months’ payments to the branch manager at the bank so that is handled.

  I need to make a clean break and not give her any reason to seek me out. Old habits die hard, and she is a habit I don’t need to get tangled with again.

  My phone blows up with call after call from Missy. I ignore each one. Breaking up is hard to do, but as much as this hurts her now, in the end, it is what is best for us both.

  “Thanks for the help, man,” I say as Brock brings up my last bag.

  “No problem. You really need to stay away from that one. She’s a viper.”

  I smirk. “She’s something.”

  “All that passion may be hot in bed, but, Jay, that shit is seriously dangerous in every other part of life.”

  I run my fingers through my short blond hair and sigh. “That’s for damn sure.”

  “Catch up later,” Brock says, laughing as he exits.

  Laying down, I rest against the headboard. My mind doesn’t go to Missy like I would expect it to. After three years together, I should miss the woman I claim to love. After three years of creating something and thinking of a future together, I should mourn the loss or some shit. That’s not where my head is, though, not in the least. No, I ca
n’t shake the blond angel in hospital scrubs.

  She lives in a family home within a well-developed family neighborhood. Does she have a family? I don’t remember a ring. Then again, I should still be in the hospital. Maybe my mind isn’t seeing things clearly. Does she have a husband? Kids?

  I smile, thinking of little blond, cherub-cheeked babies in her arms. Then I shake my head. What the fuck is wrong with me?

  I can’t help wanting to know more about this woman. In time, I will visit her again: 415 Hollow Terrace. It stays with me, as if her house contains all the answers to every question I have about the stranger who saved me.

  My body is healing, and the pain has settled after the adrenaline rush of fighting and leaving Missy. I close my eyes and find myself drifting to sleep with Lorraine on my mind.

  I blink in rhythm with the beeping of the machine beside me. The light gleams around her as she leans over me.

  “Beautiful,” I whisper, and she smiles.

  Her fingers rest on my wrist’s pulse point. The simple touch has me building a tent out of the thin hospital sheet. There is shyness in her eyes, but there is also a hidden boldness wanting to come out.

  With my free hand, I reach down and stroke myself.

  She gasps, but then I see the fire in her eyes.

  “I see you’re coming around,” she says softly.

  “When you’re here, I’m definitely ready to come”—I wink—“around.”

  “Is that so?”

  I continue stroking. “I think I could use a sponge bath, Nurse Lorraine.”

  She steps away and gets a basin with warm water and a sponge. I can’t help laughing. She’s really up for playing my game. Well, baby, so am I.

  When she pulls back the sheet, I have no shame over the cobra I keep in my pants. With practiced ease, she removes the hospital gown and starts wiping me down, beginning at my neck. Her finger grazes my neck tattoo, and the beast inside me is ready to strike.

  Squeezing the sponge, she drips water over my chest, causing my muscles to tighten. She licks her lips in appraisal, and I envision those same lips over my cock. With the sponge in hand, she slowly washes me, teases me.

  At my hips, she traces the seam of my V, leading to the place I ache for her to touch.