“You don’t remember anything?” he asked, puzzled.
“I remember hearing two loud bangs. I remember running through the rain. I even remember walking through the door and seeing the blood, but after that my mind draws a blank. I'm not happy about it, but there you have it.”
He watched me closely, almost weighing what I had said. “What happened to your neighbors?” he asked, pushing his coffee to the side.
“They said it was a home invasion, a meth addict gone nuts. He needed his fix and wanted money. Other than that, I don’t know. My parents and Darios pretty much kept me in the dark about everything else.” I fidgeted in my seat, uncomfortable with the way our conversation was going.
“So you don’t remember anything?” he asked, his eyes almost demanding more from me.
“No, I can’t and I honestly don’t want to. That was then and this is now. Whatever happened or didn’t happen, I’ve come to terms with it,” I blurted out.
I reached for my tea and drank it, burning my tongue in the process. I nearly slammed it back down onto the table.
“I'm sorry,” he said ruefully.
“That makes two of us.” I smiled, holding back my tears. I crossed my arms and turned my body to face the busy street in front of me.
The various images of the night slowly pushed their way to the forefront of my mind. The heavy rain falling down, tapping hard on the windows. The soft jazz music playing in the background. The blood gradually seeping through the grout on the kitchen floor.
“Kassia?” Jason’s voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
He stood up and pulled his chair next to me. He reached out his arm and wrapped it around my shoulder. The moment he touched me, I felt my body relax. I leaned my head towards his shoulder and huddled closer. He rested his cheek on my head and held me. I closed my eyes and pushed back whatever images polluted my mind. I then let the scent of Jason wash away all that I felt tainted me.
I don’t know whether minutes or hours passed, but he held me until I was ready to move.
“I'm sorry,” I said quietly, as I pulled away from him, already missing his warmth.
“It’s okay.” He smiled.
I took my tea, which was now cold and nearly drank it all, the cool liquid trickling down my parched throat. He moved away, making me feel worse. I wanted to be with him, but I was too afraid to admit it. Now that he knew I was damaged goods, what would be the point?
“You?” I asked, without thinking.
“Me?” He narrowed his eyes.
“Why did you become a cop?” I asked, wanting to change the subject.
“I'm SWAT, not a cop,” he corrected.
“Sorry.” I half smiled.
“Like all little boys, I wanted to protect the good guys from the bad guys, but the truth is I look really hot in my SWAT uniform,” he added with a wink.
“Yeah, you do,” I let slip. He furrowed his eyebrows at my comment. “What? I'm a girl and I have eyes.” I made a joke to lighten the mood. “Plus we’re friends, so I can say this to you.”
The awkwardness of our conversation began to ease. “I guess you can.” He laughed.
My phone began to ring. Talking Head’s “Psycho Killer” began to play. He gave me curious look.
“What? I like the song.” I slid my finger across and answered my phone.
“Hey, girl! How’s the writing going?” It was Tiff checking up on me.
“It’s going great, actually.” It was. I was over my writer’s block and was writing almost every day.
“How far along are you?” she asked.
“Almost finished it.”
Tiff squealed on the phone.
“Are you serious? I can’t wait to read it, plus your new editor seems to like you a lot. She says you have your own style which she finds great and easy to read.” I grinned. I liked Stephanie, too.
“Really? I'm glad to hear it. I like her way better than that douchebag.”
She scoffed. “Anyone was better than him, babe. Anyways, I’ll let you go. Finish up and send it to me.”
She hung up and left me feeling awesome about myself. She always had that ability.
“So, I guess I better walk you home then.” Jason stood up.
“Oh.” I looked at the time. “Shit! I kept you, sorry.” I stood up, gathered my things and headed outside.
“You don’t have to walk me home.” I thumbed over my shoulder, pointing to my street. “Thanks for having coffee with me,” I said, readying myself to leave.
He leaned in close. “I'm walking you home, so let’s go.” He took my bag and began to run ahead of me.
“Hey!” I yelled running after him.