“You’re hurt,” I whispered, noticing his bloodied knuckles.
He shook his head, flexing his hands. “I’m fine. Not my blood.” He knitted his brows together, and then shook his head again. “I need to know where you live. You don’t want the cops, but I can bet that someone heard you screaming and called them. And that piece of shit might wake up soon. I really don’t want to spend the night in jail.”
For some God forsaken reason, his words sparked a memory.
“Did you hear what he did to that guy? I heard they released him from prison early for good behavior.”
I knew it was the most inopportune time for the thought to pop into my head, but I suddenly had the urge to ask him about what that girl said. But I wouldn’t. This wasn’t the time for sharing details of our dark pasts. It would never be the time for that.
I gave Blaine directions to Angel’s condo at The Madison in Uptown Charlotte. I could tell he wanted to ask questions—there was no way I could afford to live there on a bartender’s salary—but he just nodded and cranked up the car. We rode in companionable silence, neither one of us wanting to discuss the events of the evening. There was honestly nothing left to say, and I was thankful that Blaine didn’t push me to talk.
After pulling it together enough to greet the night doorman, we made our way to apt. 1202. Blaine insisted that he see me up to ensure I was ok, and I didn’t object. Having him close distracted my mind from what had just happened. My brain had somehow gone into recovery mode, erasing the moments before Blaine found me on the concrete. I was thankful. I didn’t want to know what he had found in that parking lot. I didn’t want to imagine his horror when he saw me cowering on the ground next to my car, shivering and sobbing into my knees.
The lavish apartment was empty when we entered. I knew Angel would be staying in Raleigh overnight, but I had no clue where Dom was. His car wasn’t parked in one of our assigned spaces, and the alarm system was set. It was unlike him to be out this late on a Sunday and I began to worry about someone other than myself.
“I’m going to make you some tea and run you a bath, ok?” he said once we stepped into living room.
“In my room,” I said nodding towards the hallway. “I have a bathroom in there.”
Without hesitating or thinking about his sore knuckles, Blaine grasped my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. Comfort filled me in a way I had never felt before. I wanted to believe that maybe he had sought the same comfort in my touch. Maybe he was scared too.
I led Blaine to my room, something I had never done. Ever. It was my sanctuary. My hideaway. The place I went to when the world got too big, and I felt too small. He pretended not to check it out and walked straight into my bathroom, his hand still in mine. When he pulled it away to start the water and pour in some bath salts, I nearly whimpered at the loss of contact.
“Ok, I’ll let you get undressed…and, um, uh…” His eyes roamed my fully dressed body before falling to the floor. It was as if he was ashamed of feeling flustered over the mention of me being naked. But at the moment, I was glad he still found me attractive. I needed it. Knowing that part of him still desired me after seeing me so broken made me feel better, almost whole again.
“Blaine?” I said, just as he turned to exit the bathroom that had suddenly felt small and intimate.
“Yeah?”
I needed to thank him for saving me. Tell him how much it meant to me that he was there. Explain to him what happened to me in that parking lot and earlier at the bar. I swallowed, the taste of vomit a reminder of the shackles that kept me bound in anxiety.
“The kitchen? Off to the right of the living room, past the formal dining room. Tea is in the cabinet over the stove.”
No, I couldn’t tell Blaine no matter how wonderful he had been. He was still a man. He was still one of them. He had the potential to hurt and abuse and torture. I wanted to believe that he was different, wanted to believe that I could be different, but facts were facts. I still wasn’t what he was looking for.
After he was gone, I eased open the bathroom door that Blaine had closed behind him, shakily letting out the breath I had been holding since he had left. I undressed, praying that he wasn’t peeking at me through the crack in the door. Then I attempted to scrub away the disgust and fear left behind by the evening’s events.
Several minutes later, after my skin was pink and raw and I had washed my hair, I heard a rustle behind the door.
“Kami? I’m, uh, I’ve got your tea, and I didn’t know if you wanted it now or later,” he said nervously, his back turned. It was almost endearing how nervous he was about me being naked just a few feet away from him.