Thank God, the gym had emptied out by this time. There weren’t a lot of witnesses to see the spectacle, which had just happened.
Darios pushed past me and helped Jason up. “Thanks for helping my little sister.” I watched as Jason’s hands shook. His fist was bleeding, the blood dripping on the floor.
“Darios? Mind if I use your office?” I asked without really waiting for a response. I took Jason by the other hand and led him to my brother’s office.
I stormed in, let go of him, and began searching for the first aid kit I knew Darios always carried with him. Once I found it, I placed it onto his desk. Jason stood in the doorway, his head slightly down as he looked at his hands.
“Close the door and sit down,” I said firmly.
Jason followed what I had told him and now sat before me.
“Do you mind explaining to me, why the hell you went mental on that guy?” I asked as I picked up his hand and began cleaning it up, but Jason never said a word. He kept staring at his hand as I worked on it.
“Hey!” I said, reaching for his face, making him look at me. The fury that was there a moment ago had melted away, the light grey I knew was now back. Damn those fuckin’eyes of his.
“Why did you do that?” I murmured.
“I'm here to protect you,” he whispered.
“What did you say?”
At that moment, Darios opened the door and let himself in.
“Let me do that, Kass. You have no clue how to bandage someone.” Darios pushed me over and began working his magic on Jason.
“I'm going home,” I said, walking out of the office.
“Kass, wait for me. I’ll drive you,” my brother shouted out.
“I'm thirty-three years old. I don’t need someone to drive me,” I bit out.
I waited outside for Jason to come out of the gym. The elevator doors opened and out he came. His hand was all wrapped up in gauze. He struggled with his duffle bag and began walking. I followed him, but not too close, just enough so I could see him. He weaved in and out of the crowded street. The noises alone were distracting as I followed him.
I watched as busy people hurried down the street, making their way to their destinations. I kept on bumping into small groups, earning me a few dirty looks. One man even proceeded in telling me off, making me lose sight of Jason. Once I realized he was gone, I shot the guy the finger and walked away.
Great! I lost Jason. I wanted to talk to him, not stalk him, but I couldn’t help it. I seriously needed to find myself a healthy relationship. I was becoming one of those, you know the type, the stalking and looking from afar types.
I turned the corner and nearly tripped over a man, who was leaning up against the wall.
“Sorry,” I managed to say as I steadied myself.
“Sorry, that you were following me or sorry, that you suck at it?” Jason kicked off the wall and made his way into my space, making me back up a little.
“So I’d suck as a cop,” I murmured, embarrassed at my crappy attempt.
“Pretty much.” He readjusted his duffle bag with his bandaged hand.
“I guess I owe you a coffee for helping me back there.” I waited and he smirked.
“I’d say so.”
I pointed at a Starbucks, which was around the corner and near my house. I ordered my mint tea and his coffee and joined him at the table. He sat near the window, overlooking the street in front of us.
“I hope my brother didn’t say anything to you.” I placed his coffee in front of him.
He was staring out the window and looking into the crowd. He didn’t say anything at first. He looked at his coffee and drank from it. Once he finished, he placed it back down and turned his eyes to me.
“No, he was happy I was there at the right time. He says if he could, he’d have a bodyguard on you 24/7.” I took the lid off my tea to let it cool down a bit.
“He says a lot of stupid things.” I began to blow on my tea.
“Why would you need protection, I mean aside from the fact that you’re who you are?”
I lifted my tea and tested it to see if it was just right; no it wasn’t. I placed it back down again, waiting for it to cool. I didn’t want to have this conversation with him, but I had to stop hiding what had happened when I was younger.
“I was sixteen and something had happened at my neighbors’ home. I don’t remember much, just the storm and blood. Bits and pieces come back to me as I sleep or even something as mundane as having a tea might trigger a memory, but I pretty much blocked it all out. Not the healthiest thing I did. I used writing to help me and then I became good at it. So, here I am.” I picked up the tea, not realizing I was shaking on the inside. The fuckin’ tea was still too hot.