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from the grass nearby and draping it over me, and we stopped speaking.
An ambulance arrived, and the EMTs roused Buck, who at least wasn t dead. Arms crossed
dispassionately, one of the officers monitored his care as he was transferred onto a stretcher while his
partner conferred with Dr. Heller over the altercation.
 Lan Lucas, he called.  You and Jacqueline need to give your statements now, son. Lucas
stood carefully, pulling me up with him, supporting me fully. Dr. Heller reached a hand to his
shoulder.  This young man is the son of my closest friend. He rents the apartment over the garage. He
glanced at us with an odd look before continuing.  As I said, that fella  he pointed at Buck, who
was being loaded into the ambulance   has a restraining order filed against him on behalf of this
young lady, which he violated by coming to her boyfriend s home. Ah, there was the reason for the
look.
The officers eyes widened when they took in my bloody shirt.  It s his blood, I said, pointing
toward the ambulance.
One of them smiled and echoed Lucas.  Good girl.
I leaned into Lucas, and he tightened his arms around me. The officers, already softened by Dr.
Heller, couldn t have been more sympathetic. Twenty minutes and all of our statements later, they,
and Buck, were gone, and Lucas and I were gathering my things from my truck and the road after
assuring Dr. Heller and his family that we would see to each other s injuries.
Without speaking, Lucas led me up the stairs, into his apartment and straight into the bathroom.
He turned on the shower and lifted me onto the counter to pull off my boots and socks. Without
pausing, he removed my shirt and bra and tossed them in the trash. His shirt, speckled with droplets of
blood both his and Buck s followed.
Standing between my knees, he turned my face towards the light and inspected my jaw.  You re
going to bruise. We ll put some ice on it to get the swelling down, after you shower. His jaw
clenched tight.  Did he& hit you?
I shook my head, which made it throb a bit.  Just grabbed it really hard. It s sore, but actually the
spot where I head-butted him hurts more.
 Does it? He brushed the hair back from my face and kissed my forehead so gently I couldn t
feel it.  I m so proud of you. I want you to tell me about it, when you can& and when I can stand to
hear it. I m still too angry right now.
I nodded.  Okay.
He ran his fingers over the back of my neck.  I knew I d fucked up. I was getting on my bike,
coming after you and then you were running up the driveway. His jaw compressed and flexed.
 When he tackled you& I wanted to kill him. I think if Charles hadn t stopped me, I would have
killed him.
I didn t move from the counter until he d undressed. He pulled me down, slid my jeans and
underwear off, and led me to the shower, where he washed and inspected every part of me. We were
both bruised and abraded in unexpected places, and I could barely lift my arms.
 That's normal, he said, wrapping a towel around his waist and folding another around me.
"During a fight, you don t realize all the places you catch a punch, land wrong, or slam into
something. The adrenaline deadens it temporarily.
His dark hair grazed his shoulders, dripping lines of water down his back and chest. He sat me
down to dry my hair, and I watched as thin rivulets snaked over his inked skin, flowing over the rose,
cutting through the scripted words, and moving into the line of hair on his abdomen before finally
soaking into the towel.
I closed my eyes.  The last time anyone dried my hair for me was in sixth grade, when I broke
my arm.
He lifted each strand gently, pressing the towel around it to absorb the water without tangling it.
 How did you break it?
I smiled.  I fell out of a tree.
He laughed, and the sound reduced the pain of every sore place on my body to the dullest ache.
 You fell out of a tree?
I squinted up at him.  I think there was a boy and a dare involved.
His eyes burned.  Ah. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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