by Hart, Gemma
“You know, some Death Eaters were misunderstood. Some of them were actually the good guys. Read the books,” he said haughtily as he nearly threw his spatula in excitement when the work crew entered. He practically beamed when all the men greeted him warmly like one of their own.
Kat actually loved seeing Malcolm so happy. Jason was so good to him. She never knew how loved she could feel by seeing someone else treat her loved ones so preciously.
But of course, that was Malcolm.
Dillon had never met Jason before.
Finding her brother’s hospital room at the end of the hall, they turned in.
“Hey, Dill!” Kat called out cheerfully. “Look who brought you some cinnamon rolls!” She lifted up a large Tupperware filled with iced cinnamon rolls. Dillon’s favorite.
Dillon, who had been reading a comic book, looked up and smiled before his expression turned wary at the stranger. His thin face and bony cheekbones made his wariness look even more grim than normal.
“Dill, this is Jason Daniels,” Kat explained. “He’s the one who’s been helping out at Doughy Pop’s.”
Dillon’s eyes brighten in recognition. “Oh so you’re the guy Malcolm is just fawning over now,” he said.
Jason and Kat laughed.
“I guess so,” Jason said, standing awkwardly at the end of the bed. Kat could see he was trying not to take up too much space in the small room.
“Malcolm couldn’t stop bragging about how he had helped carry in the new worktop and that he had been the one to install it,” Dillon said, rolling his eyes.
Kat laughed. “It’s true though! He really did help.”
Although Dillon was trying to play it off like he couldn’t believe how silly his big brother was acting, she could see the slight envy coloring his face. While his brother was off learning construction and bonding with these men, Dillon was in a hospital bed, needled with IVs and chemotherapy.
Jason suddenly crossed over. He held out his phone and started swiping the screen, pulling up some photos he had taken of the work in progress at Doughy Pop’s. “See this is the worktop Malcolm mentioned,” he said, handing the phone to Dillon. “And right there to the right, I was thinking about putting in some shelving to free up the clutter but I don’t know if that is the best place to put it since the door is right there. What do you think?”
Dillon looked up at Jason in surprise. He wanted Dillon’s opinion? Kat could see the slow flush of embarrassed pleasure coloring his pale cheeks. Jason gave him a serious but encouraging nod, seeming as if he was in real need of Dillon’s expertise.
“I think…” Dillon started slowly. “I think the shelving is okay there. As long as it doesn’t protrude too much.”
Jason nodded seriously, taking the advice as if they were words of gold. “I suppose you’re right. Well what about this?” He swiped to another photo. “This is the back storage area of Hoyt’s and what I was thinking of doing….”
Kat watched as Jason slowly made Dillon feel as if he was just as much a part of the town’s renovations as Malcolm was. He made Dillon feel important and valued and encouraged him to eye the projects with an architect’s mind.
How did he do it so naturally? She felt her heart nearly burst in gratitude watching Jason and Dillon talk.
“Why is it called Brothers Construction?” Dillon asked.
Jason took in a deep breath before explaining, “All the crew members of Brothers Construction are ex-military. Sometimes it’s hard for infantry men to find civilian work after the military. I make it a point to try and always hire any ex-soldiers who want a job. They were my brothers in arms.”
Kat hadn’t known that. She had always wondered about the name as well but had never asked.
This man was just full of surprises. Would she ever feel like she would get a handle on who he exactly was?
After sharing cinnamon rolls together and promising to visit again, Kat and Jason headed back towards town.
“I didn’t know that’s why you named your company Brothers Construction,” Kat said quietly once they were on the road.
Jason looked straight ahead. “Actually, the whole company had been the idea of a squad mate of mine,” he said.
Although she felt like she knew the answer, Kat whispered, “What happened to him?”
“Killed in action,” he answered grimly. “Enemy ambush. He and five other men were gunned down.” A beat of silence passed between them. “I always thought starting this company would honor his memory. I think he would’ve liked knowing that he was still helping his brothers out even after death.”
Kat had no idea what to say. The man had seen so much pain and death. It was clear it had affected him deeply.
“I—”
But before she could finish her thought, Jason’s cellphone rang shrilly.
“Hello?” he answered. Whatever was being said on the other end made Jason’s face immediately darken and his lips press into a straight line. “Yes. Yes I do. Where is he? Alright. Thank you. I’ll be right there.”
“What’s wrong?” Kat asked as Jason hung up.
“Al’s in trouble,” he said.
Kat vaguely remembered the name. She remembered seeing a gray haired man in Reggie’s called Al who had seemed quite interested in her. And she had seen the same man pass in and out of Jason’s temporary office from time to time.
“What kind of trouble? Where is he?” she asked.
Jason sighed, running a hand through his dark hair. “He went on another bender in Colton,” he said. Colton was another town about an hour south. “He was smashing up a bar and I just got a call from the bar owner. He found my business card in Al’s wallet.”
“Oh my god, is he okay?” Kat asked, shocked. “Why would he smash up a bar?” The man had always looked so frail to Kat.
“When he drinks, he can’t control his flashbacks and he immediately starts attacking the nearest thing to him,” Jason said, frustration clearly coming through. He shook his head. “Look, where do you want me to drop you off? Home or the diner? I’ll let you off before I head down.”
Kat shook her head. “No don’t waste time like that. We’re near the interstate now. Let’s just go to Colton,” she said.
Jason looked over at her. “Al is old but he was an 82nd Airborne soldier in his day. He can be unpredictable in his condition,” he said. “I’m not putting you in that kind of danger.”
Kat pointed towards the road where the sign for the southbound interstate was quickly approaching. “You can’t do this by yourself. You’ll need to speak with the bar owner and possibly discuss damages. Who’ll watch Al while you’re doing that? This is a two person job.”
She could see Jason wrestle with the problem. It was clear he did not like the idea of exposing her to any kind of danger but he also knew she was right. With a grunt of exasperation, he turned the car onto the interstate towards Colton.
Chapter Fifteen
Colton was a bit larger than Peytonville but not by much. It was quite easy to find which bar Al had been in. There were two cop cars outside it and a growing crowd ringing the cars.
Jason pulled up right behind the crowd and stepped out, cutting through the throng of people like Moses through the Red Sea. Kat quickly followed in his wake.
The bar was a decent sized place that had character to it. You could tell it had been around for a couple dozen years. But that wasn’t what Kat noticed first. As she stepped into the place, her jaw dropped.
Everything was smashed.
Stools were turned over, glasses were shattered across the floor, a table lay smashed in the corner. The bar looked like a tornado had passed through. Picture frames that had been hanging on the wall lay in splinters on the floor. Bottles of alcohol were rolling everywhere, some with liquid still pouring out.
One man had done this?
Jason stood in front of her, assessing the damage. He then spotted a shadowed figure in the far corner, slumped and nearly unconscious.
&nb
sp; Jason and Kat rushed over.
Al was bleeding from the forearms all the way to his knuckles. He must’ve literally smashed everything with his own two fists. His gray hair was matted with wood chips and thrown booze.
“Al? Al, you alright, man?” Jason asked, helping to lean the old man back against the wall.
Al’s eyes were glazed over and Kat could see a shiny purple bruise beginning to bloom under his right eye. “Fuck it,” the old man murmured. “Just…fuck it.”
“Take a deep breath, Al,” Jason said calmly. “And stay here. Kat will watch over you.”
Kat took the cue and kneeled next to the man. She took off her jacket and rolled it up to make as a makeshift pillow for him. She looked up and saw Jason watching her, his eyes inscrutable. He nodded and then walked towards the police officers and what was clearly one irate bar owner.
Al leaned against the wall, his head cushioned by her jacket. “Just fuck it,” he mumbled again, his eyes closed.
Kat carefully brushed his wild hair back from his face, making sure the woodchips fell away from his eyes. “Shh,” she said. “Shhh.”
Al grimaced and then groaned. “I…I don’t want to hear it anymore,” he mumbled. “I don’t want to smell it.”
Kat looked around, wondering if the man was feeling nauseous from the smell of booze which was heavy, thanks to all the spilt bottles.
“Smell what, Al?” Kat asked gently as she tried to sweep away some of the nearby bottles.
“The blood,” Al answered, his eyes still squeezed shut. “The smoke. I hear them every…everyday. Every fucking day.” Suddenly the man opened his eyes, his gaze clear and piercing. “I can’t live with it anymore.”
Kat stared at the man, his words hitting her like a cold waterfall.
He was an old soldier. He had seen too much death and too much battle. It had permanently dented his soul and the man was fighting every day to keep his sanity.
A shiver passed through her and a wave of goosebumps dotted her back. That description sounded eerily familiar. She turned around and watched Jason’s straight back and tall frame as he talked calmly with the police, trying to resolve Al’s damage.
Was that what he did? Was that what Jason struggled with everyday? As he came to work and joked around with Malcolm and teased Janelle, is that what he did on the inside—fight against these dark demons with nothing but his own determination and will?
“You motherfucking bastard,” a voice growled from behind Kat.
Kat turned to her right and saw a man almost as bloody and bruised as Al struggling to his feet. He must’ve been in that far corner the whole time yet she had not noticed him.
The man stumbled to his feet, glaring at Al. “You think you can come into my town and try to start shit?” he nearly roared. He bent over and fumbled to pick up a broken beer bottle, the jagged edges glinting in the low lights of the bar.
“Not on my watch, asshole,” he said. “No on my fucking watch!”
With a roar, he lunged at them. Kat screamed as she threw herself over the nearly unconscious Al.
But instead of feeling the sharp pain of a bottle stab or the drunken bloody mess of a bar brawler, she felt the steady heat of Jason Daniels as he stood in front of her, holding up the arm of the attacker.
“Now, take a breath, man,” Jason said calmly, holding the attacker’s wrist high above his head.
“Fuck you,” the man snarled.
Jason gave him a humorless smile. “Not today,” he said. He neatly twisted the arm behind the man’s back and then shoved him in the direction of the cops who immediately took him into custody.
Jason kneeled down, putting a large hand against Kat’s cheek. “Are you alright?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’m fine,” she said, letting out a shaky breath.
Jason carefully looked over her once more to make sure before taking her word. “Okay, let’s get Al back home. He’ll need to come back to go to court for the charges but I think we can get him off if we can cover the cost of damages. It sounds like the brawl hadn’t been instigated by him.” Jason hefted Al up. “Al just did the most damage.”
Together, the three of them made their way back out.
***
Jason gently laid out the older man onto his bed. Kat came into the bedroom carrying a bowl of cool water and a washcloth. Jason looked surprise.
“I used to do this a lot for my uncle before he died,” Kat said, holding up the bowl. “It’s not the same thing, I know. But before he died, he was always getting terrible migraines. But pain is pain.” She sat on the edge of the bed and wrung out the cloth before gently dabbing at the man’s forehead. “And comfort is comfort.”
There was silence behind her as she worked before she heard a quiet, “Thank you.”
Kat placed the washcloth over Al’s forehead before turning around. But there was no one there behind her.
She walked out into the living room and saw Jason pouring himself a stiff drink.
“It’s always hard,” he said, as if speaking to himself, “to see one of your own fall like that.” He tossed back the drink in a single gulp. “It’s not right what he did—going on a bender like that. But I understand it. Fuck, do I understand it.”
Kat watched him pour out another drink.
“Do you get flashbacks as well?” she asked. PTSD must be the norm for men like him.
Jason gave a tight shrug before tossing back the second drink. “I can control them,” he said.
Even in the dim light of the loft, she saw the muscle twitch under his eye. Could he really?
How many sleepless nights had he endured to fight off the waves of pain and memories that fought to crush him?
“Al’s a good man,” Jason said, as if feeling the need to defend his old friend. “He had it rough when he was in. But he’s a good man. He does odd work for Brothers Construction and is good when he’s sober.” Jason’s hand paused over the bottle, as if debating whether to pour himself another drink. “But every once in awhile, it gets…too heavy for him.”
Too heavy.
Yes, Kat could imagine how heavy the burden of all those memories could be.
Two years ago, Kat had seen a strained soldier who was not looking forward to another mission. She had seen the struggle behind his eyes. But even then, there had been a glimmer of his boyishness still alive. There had been a sweetness to his charm.
But now, the man who stood before her looked like he had been put into an oven to harden. No longer was there that boyishness. Everything about him was hard, rough, and jagged. This was all man.
Kat’s heart broke a little for what had clearly been lost in the past two years for Jason.
She stepped forward, reaching out to touch his face the way he had touched hers at the bar.
But Jason jerked back. He turned and with a sudden and unexpected force, threw his fist into the wall. It felt as if the whole loft shifted.
Kat immediately stepped back, her heart racing in hear and shock. Jason lowered his fist, the knuckles red and raw. She could see the line of every muscle in his back, tense and poised for action. Small tremors ran through him as if he was trying to hold himself together. Finally, he turned around.
She could see the extreme tension of his jaw. “I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, remaining frozen a few paces away.
Kat stared at him. She had never seen this side of him before. It was as if he was fighting something with his entire being. But she could tell it was a losing battle. He was struggling.
She took a hesitant step towards him. When he didn't’ stop her, she took another and another until she was right behind him. Gently, she placed a hand against his back. She saw his muscles flinch against her touch. “Jason,” she said softly, afraid of him yet more afraid for him, “let me help you. I can stay.”
Jason’s body felt like a frozen statue under her hand.
“Stay?” he echoed, his eyes staring off.
Kat nodded. “I can stay. We can t
alk if you’d like. You don’t have to be alone tonight.”
Jason slowly turned around. Kat was just barely able to stop herself from stepping back in automatic fear. His dark green eyes looked nearly black in the dim lights. It was clear whatever he was fighting was slowly winning and taking over him. There was no softness in his face, no familiarity. His eyes looked dark…and dead.
And then with the lightening quick reflexed of a trained soldier, he grabbed her by the back of her neck and yanked her hard against his chest. Without giving her a chance to gasp, Jason crushed his lips against her, plunging his tongue deep into her mouth.
