Touching Scars(33)

He blew his breath out through his nose. He didn’t say anything for several beats, obviously trying to decide if he was going to answer my question. When he finally spoke, I too blew out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “He lives over in those apartments just off Haddock Lane.” I was already standing up before he finished. “Kat, wait.” I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I need you to be careful with him. I’ve seen the haunted look in him, and I don’t want you to get hurt. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

I looked over my shoulder. “I’m not trying to save him, Slim. I’m just trying to make sure he knows he has a friend.”

He nodded, and I turned to walk out. I was halfway down the hallway when I realized I didn’t know the apartment number. “Slim, what’s his number?” I shouted.

“4C.”

I walked out of the building, got in my car and made my way to Timber’s place.





When I got there, I saw his Harley parked in front of his door. As soon as I got to the porch, I placed my ear on the cool wood of his front door and tried to listen to what was on the other side. My ears were met with silence. I assumed I would have heard the television or something running, but nothing. My heart was beating wildly in my chest and I questioned my sanity for coming here. Would he think I was crazy for showing up at his place? Would he ask me how I even knew where he lived? Would he slam the door in my face and tell me to take a hike? I felt like I was being presumptuous for showing up here out of the blue, but my gut was telling me that something wasn’t right. The man had come around every single day to the bar, and then all of a sudden, just stopped. And I didn’t think it was coincidence that it just so happened to be right after what took place in my apartment. If he thought he’d hurt me, I’d set him straight. He needed to know that he did nothing wrong, and I was okay.

Gaining my resolve, I straightened my shoulders and placed a firm knock on the door. Nothing. I waited several moments before I knocked again. Still nothing. I didn’t even hear footsteps coming to the door to open it. The longer I stood there, the deeper a sinking feeling settled in my stomach. This wasn’t right. I knew he was here, so why wasn’t he opening the door? Going against my better judgment, I put my hand on the knob and twisted. Surprisingly, it wasn’t locked. Strange. Timber struck me as the type that would have everything sealed up tight. Pushing it open, my nose was immediately assaulted by the pungent smell of alcohol.

“What in the hell…” I said quietly to myself.

It was completely dark in the place except for the light from outside the door streaming in. From what I could tell, the place was trashed. There were beer cans, bottles of Crown three quarters of the way empty, and take-out bags all over the place. Clothes littered almost every inch of space that wasn’t being taken up by trash. Holy shit, who lives like this? I walked a few steps inside, the odor only getting worse.

“Hello?” I thought I heard the shower running from behind a closed door. “Timber, are you here? It’s Kat.” There was no return greeting.

Kicking aside a few pizza boxes and a pair of boxer briefs, I stepped over a trash bag and up to the closed door. Yep, definitely shower water was running. I knocked again, this time more forcefully than I did when I was outside.

“Timber, are you in there? It’s Kat. I stopped by because I hadn’t seen you in a while and I wanted to make sure you were okay. So… are you okay?” Nothing. “Look, if you’ll just let me know you’re alright, I’ll leave you alone.” When I was met by the quiet again, I swallowed deeply. I knew this wasn’t a good idea, but I had to make sure that he was okay. I told myself that if I just put my eyes on him and ensured myself that he was indeed alive and breathing, I’d walk out of here and go back to my bar and life just like before.

Again, I opened another door. There was mist in the air and the water was running at full blast. The droplets that landed on my arms gave me the chills. This wasn’t steam from a hot shower, this was something else. Why would the air be cold instead of hot? I looked over to my left, where the shower stall was. There was a glass door that was translucent. I could see a figure huddled in the corner and it wasn’t moving.

“Timber?” He didn’t move. I walked through the space, got to the shower door and popped it open. Oh Christ, if he’s hurt what am I going to do? What if it’s worse than him being hurt? He’s not even moving, for God sakes. What if I’m too late? More cold air hit me as I swung open the glass. Sitting back against the tiles, with his knees drawn up, was Timber.