Combative
Page 48

 Jay McLean

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A chuckle came through from the other side, and without knowing for sure who it was, I opened the door.
My generous hero smiled wide, then threw his arm out toward me, holding a plastic bag. “Found some clothes in my car,” he stated, eyeing me up and down quickly. “They’ll be big on you. But they’re dry.” He motioned his head to the counter. “Your food’s ready.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled, taking the bag from him.
He just nodded and left me to change.
***
I’d just taken a seat to start my meal when he approached from the other side of the counter. He placed a set of keys right next to my plate and said, “Take your time, I’ll be done in an hour. You can wait in my car, put the heat on.”
I don’t know what I’d done to deserve his generosity, but I sure was grateful for it. “Are you sure?”
He nodded slowly, his hand reaching up and moving my hair behind my ear. “Just stay okay? Don’t leave without me.”
I returned his nod, not knowing what else to do.
Even though I had a safe warm place to go after my meal, for some reason I felt safer being in the same room as him, a complete stranger. So, I took my time eating. Occasionally, I’d catch him staring at me with a frown that made me squirm in my seat. After an hour, he removed his apron and sat down next to me. “You ready?” he asked, looking down at his phone.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
He glanced up then—an almost shy smile on his face. His gaze moved from me to the darkness outside. The rain had stopped now but it was windy. The type of cold wind that I hated. When his eyes moved back to mine, his smile got wider. He reached up and pulled the hood of his sweatshirt I was wearing over my head, then reached in his pocket and pulled out a pair of woolen gloves. He placed them carefully over my hands. And I let him. I even let him hold my hand afterward and help me down from my seat. He held it all the way to his car while he opened the door and helped me to get seated. The entire time I fought to keep the grin off my face.
It’d been a while since someone had cared. But he did—and I had absolutely no idea why.
“You’re safe now,” he said, as if somehow reading my thoughts. He smiled again before closing my door and making his way around to the driver’s side. Once he was settled, he turned to me. “I’m house sitting for a friend. They’ll be back in a few days. I know you have no reason to trust me but I’d like for you to stay there, just until they get back.”
My heart slammed against my chest. I knew what this was now, and as much as I wanted the warmth and comfort of a roof and a bed, I just couldn’t do it. “I won’t sleep with you,” I mumbled, reaching for the door handle.

His hand on my forearm squeezed tight and froze me to my spot. A scream caught in my throat. I tried to pull out of his hold but he released me quickly and without a fight. His arms went up in surrender. “I’m sorry,” he rushed out. “I didn’t mean to put my hands on you like that. I promise you, that’s not what this is. You can stay at the house. Different beds. Different rooms. Hell, you can take the entire house, I’ll sleep in my car.”
“What?” I asked, shock clear in my tone.
His phone rang; cutting off whatever response I was struggling to form. He sighed before hitting answer and lifting it to his ear. “I was working. What happened? Are you okay?”
I saw him release a heavy breath. “So what’s up?” he asked.
He waited a beat. “What kind of help, Ky?” he said, his eyes moving to mine. Gently, he took my hand in his and squeezed once, as if assuring me of what he’d said earlier. He mouthed a ‘thank you’ and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket, lighting one and then offering them to me. I shook me head. “You’re after drugs, aren’t you?” he said into the phone.
I tensed.
Drugs.
He was a drug dealer.
I hated drugs.
And I hated everything that came with it.
I made a move to get out again, but he held my hand, his eyes narrowed as he searched my face.
“No,” he said, and I wasn’t sure if it was meant for me or the person on the phone.
He switched the car on and turned the heat up. “Because, Ky, you’re not like that. I’m not going to be responsible for—”
Whatever the Ky person said must have cut him off. He lifted both my hands and placed them in front of the air vents. Covering the phone, he whispered to me, “I’ll be back,” And stepped out of the car.
I closed my eyes and rested my head on the seat. What the hell was I going to do? Before I got a second to think, his door opened and he sat down again. “I’m sorry,” he told me. “That was my brother. I gotta help him out with something.”
“You’re a drug dealer?”
“No,” he said through a laugh. “Not at all. But I’ll to be honest with you. I’m going to help my brother get some. We’ll just go to a party, get him what he wants, and then we’ll leave. And I meant what I said, I’ll sleep in my car. You can have the house to yourself. I don’t have any ulterior motives. I promise.”
“Why?” I asked.
He sighed. “What’s your name?” he asked.
“B-Bailey,” I said, my voice coming out a whisper.
“It’s a pleasure, Bailey. I’m Steven.”
“So?” I pressed.
“So what?”
“So why are you doing this? You don’t even know me.”
“Because, Bailey,” he said, placing his hands in front of the air vents. “We all need saving at some point. I’m here to save you.”
***
He didn’t get out when a car pulled up to the parking lot. We drove to a field in complete silence, neither of us speaking. But he held my hand—and not in an intimate way, but in a comforting way. And it had worked. He made me feel safe.
I kept my head lowered, not making eye contact with his brother or the guy supplying the drugs.
I followed Steven’s lead and sat on the hood of his brother’s car while they talked. “Is this weird?” his brother asked while Steven went to his car for something.
I shrugged, not knowing how else to respond.
I was all too familiar with the smell of weed, so I knew what they were smoking. At one point his brother offered me the joint. “No, thank you,” I said, trying to keep my voice level. I didn’t want to show how much I despised what they were doing. They talked for a bit while Steven placed his hand on my arm rubbing up and down to keep me warm. I listened as they spoke about themselves—and about their lives. And I realized it then—that Steven’s words from earlier held more truth than I knew.
Steven—he needed saving just as much as I did.
I found myself leaning into him, trying to find a way to comfort him the way he’d done with me. He pulled me closer and kissed the side of my head. I felt my heart tighten again—just like it did when he placed the gloves over my hands. He cared. And as stupid as it sounded considering we’d only met a few hours ago, I felt connected to him somehow. Like we were both living a lie; hoping that someday we’d mean something.
We both wanted to matter.
And we both needed to be saved.