Prove Me Wrong

by Gemma Hart

  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 talk 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.

  Kat pressed her hands against his chest, trying to push back but Jason kept a firm hold around her waist and neck, leaving her no room to budge. The heat of his touch seared her skin. His tongue played with hers, expertly teasing and taunting her.

  “You stay tonight,” he breathed against her lips, breaking their kiss before plunging his tongue back in again, “and I can’t promise you safety.” His grip on the back of her neck tightened, squeezing her almost painfully. “I can’t be gentle. I’m not gentle.”

  His hand moved from her waist up to her breasts, squeezing them tightly. “Stay tonight,” he warned, “and you’ll get bruised.”

  Kat was completely breathless from the onslaught of Jason’s touches. She futilely fought against him but at the same time felt her body heat at his touch. She felt that burning flame of something forbidden and fiery grow within her. But looking up at his dark eyes, she knew this wasn’t how she wanted it. Yes, she wanted Jason. But this wasn’t Jason. This was the dark trauma that currently terrorized Jason. She didn't want their first time together to be like this.

  Kat pushed against Jason’s chest again and this time, he let her go. Actually, he almost threw her away from him as if forcing himself to let go of his prey. He seemed so at war with himself.

  They stood, paces from each other, both trying to regain their breath and their senses. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Jason said suddenly. He straightened up and headed towards the front door. “Don’t stay here, Kat. Don’t trust me right now.”

  The muscles of his broad shoulders were taut and tense. Seeing Al fighting his demons had clearly raised a few of his own in Jason. Kat didn’t want to press him tonight. Her lips still tingled from his bruising kiss. No, she didn’t want to press him tonight.

  She headed towards the front door, carefully stepping out.

  Kat turned around. She wanted to help him fight whatever darkness lay waiting for him. But she didn’t know how.

  “Good night,” she said, meaning it literally. Please, have a good and restful night. No nightmares. No fighting.

  “Good night,” Jason said quickly before closing the door and letting the darkness swallow him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “I thought the backsplash was something Jason was going to do,” Malcolm said hesitantly as he watched Dave mixing the grout.

  Dave gave another good swirl through the heavy gray stuff. “Oh this is easy stuff to do,” he said, keeping a focused eye on the grout. “No need to bother the big man with it.” He looked up and gave Malcolm a solemn but warm look. Kat had noticed most of the men had a difficult time smiling. But they were never short on ways to express their own unique brand of warmth. “I think we can handle it ourselves.”

  Malcolm’s cheeks turned a light shade of pink at being found so capable by Dave.

  But Kat could see his eyes flitting every few minutes through the order window at the front door of the diner. She knew Malcolm had wanted to do the project with Jason.

  But Jason hadn’
t come in today. He hadn’t come in yesterday either.

  She remembered his darkened, almost empty eyes as long ago memories began to wash over him. She should’ve stayed! She should’ve distracted him. Helped him. Fought with him.

  But she had been caught completely off guard, never having witnessed trauma survivors in the flesh.

  Was he okay?

  Was Al okay?

  Kat quickly made a fresh pot of coffee as her thoughts persistently drew her to Jason. She could tell he was clearly still struggling to put the pieces of himself back together after his military career.

  Her hand paused over the pot. Was this why he had stopped communicating with her? She could tell from that night after the bar fight that he was used to fighting his demons alone. He had almost pushed her out the front door as if he didn’t want to expose her to the darkness he felt within.

  But how much harder is it to fight such terrible trauma by yourself?

  Janelle slapped an order through the window, snapping Kat out of her reverie. She looked up and saw the spritely young woman smiling back at her.

  “It’s exciting to see the diner kind of busy again, isn’t it?” she said, her eyes sparkling.

  Kat turned around and saw the half full diner. It was true. The place hadn’t had this many customers in a while. It almost seemed a shame to have to shut the diner down for a few days soon to finish the rest of the interior renovations. But regardless, it was all starting to look very promising.

  The businesses around town seemed revitalized after their makeover. The Carolina Society had featured the town on their website and newsletter and Peytonville had been getting several curious tourists visiting. It was all the place needed—just a few curious eyes to see just how great the place really was.

  Kat had been taking initiative as well. She had started a small online marketing campaign. She posted pictures of her baked goods and the coziness of Doughy Pop’s. She was already getting positive responses with some small food blogs picking up her photos.

  She knew Doughy Pop’s was the secret ingredient to success for Peytonville. Food was the best way to attract people. And once they were here, they could see the charm and beauty of this small but character laden town.

  Kat had been working hard to come up with unique and delicious treats to entice people. She’d also been reworking some menu items to spruce up the diner and to give it a fresh breath of air. The menu should be homey and familiar but still with a dash of excitement.

  Kat lifted the coffee pot back to its hot plate when she stumbled over her own feet, nearly dropping the glass pot.

  “Whoa, whoa!” Janelle cried out, helping Kat back up and taking the pot away from her, clearing not trusting her boss’s coordination. “Are you okay?”

  Kat gave her a head good shake before nodding. “Of course,” she said, smiling back at Janelle. “I think I dozed off there for a second.” She gave a small laugh at the joke but Janelle looked at her, searchingly.

  “Kat, have you been getting any sleep?” she asked. “You got dark circles like a raccoon.”

  Well, that was blunt.

  Kat shrugged and said, “Well, it’s been pretty busy here with all the construction and menu tinkering.” And the nights she slept restlessly worrying about Jason.

  Janelle tilted her head to one side.

  “You still need to rest,” she said gently.

  Kat smiled at the sweet girl, squeezing her arm affectionately. “You’re right. Tonight I’m going to get my butt into bed early and get me a full ten hours.”

  Janelle stared at her boss before bursting into laughter. “Lie to humor me but don’t make it so outrageous,” she said. “I’ll be happy if you just got six. Thrilled, really.”

  Kat grinned and gave her employee a salute.

  With how busy the place was with customers and Brothers Construction crew, the day passed by pretty quickly. Before she knew it, she was the only one left in the diner.

  She had sent Malcolm on home so he could get a lift from Janelle.

  With half the lights off and the place empty, Kat felt a sense of calm she hadn’t felt in a long while. It had been a chaotic few weeks and she languished in the quiet.

  She would’ve loved to have poured herself a hot cup of coffee and sat in one of the booths for an hour or so but she had things to bake. She had had the clever idea of sending some baked goods to local North Carolina foodie magazine writers to see if she could drum up some goodwill and perhaps even some press.

  Janelle had a keen eye. Kat did need rest. She was tired.

  She had been working nonstop since Uncle Do had died. Any free moment she had was spent driving back and forth to the hospital for Dillon. And now, she felt every spare pocket of her time filled up with thoughts of Jason. She felt completely tired and spent.

  Taking out her baking ingredients, Kat tried to calm her mind. Baking was usually quite meditative for her. She wanted a clear and steady head as she started a new batch of dough.

  But with the remodeling that had been going on in their kitchen, nothing was where it was supposed to be. She spent ten minutes looking for her measuring cups. Another five looking for her specialty flours.

  She needed an extra mixing bowl but couldn’t find any. “Now where would I be if I was a bowl….” she wondered aloud as she looked about the kitchen. Finally she spotted it up on the higher corner of an old shelf that would soon be taken down and replaced with a steel one.

  Using an empty crate as a stepladder, she reached up towards the bowl. She was just a few inches shy. Even stretching her body as high as she could, her fingers could only barely brush the bowl.

  Kat looked around to see if there was another crate she could add to her makeshift ladder but could find none.

  She was so close. She could the bowl. She just needed to grab the rim. Stepping back up on the crate, she reached out and then jumped for the bowl, feeling the cool metal brush against her hand.

  But just as her fingers closed in on the rim of the bowl, the old shelf cracked and bent, throwing Kat off balance as she tripped and fell. She heard a dull ringing as her head hit something hard and a blackness fell over her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “This is stupid,” Kat grumbled as she sat on the couch, tucked in ridiculously tight with an old afghan.

  “No, you know what’s really stupid?” Malcolm said, eyeing his sister sharply as he buttered some toast for breakfast. “Jumping up and down on an old crate while pulling at a half broken shelf in the middle of an empty diner. That’s stupid. That’s the definition of stupid.”

  “I wasn’t jumping up and down. I jumped up. I fell down,” she argued, trying to free her arms from under the heavy blanket. How had Malcolm exactly tucked her in this tight? She sighed as she finally managed to wriggle an arm free. She gingerly touched the large bump at her temple. Under the blanket, she wriggled her right foot gently, feeling small twinges of pain. Even tightly bandaged, she could feel the dull throbbing ache from the twisted ankle.

  “Oh well, pardon me for trying to give you more credit there,” Malcolm said sarcastically. “You just crossed from stupid to idiotic. Why would you even jump on a crate?”

  “I told you! I needed an extra bowl for the muffin mix and I—”

  Malcolm cut her off by shoving the plate of toast her way. “I’m sure you’re the first woman in history to sprain an ankle trying to make muffins. What are you going to do next? Have a seizure making a scone?”

  Kat looked at the toast, confused. “Wait, aren’t you going to eat your breakfast?”

  Malcolm gave her a look. “I work in a diner. I doubt I’ll be short on food. The toast’s for you so you don’t get up and do something even more idiotic while I’m at the diner.”

  Malcolm threw on a jacket and grabbed his keys. “Stay on that couch, sis!” he called out before leaving for work.

  Kat felt ridiculous but tears stung her eyes at the sweet gesture of her little brother. Out of love rather than
hunger, she took a bite of the well buttered toast.

  It was lucky, really. Kat had fallen and bumped her head on a turned over mixing bucket but had come to relatively quickly. She had phoned her brother who had immediately given her a haranguing that rivaled any middle aged mother’s.

  After picking her up and taking her over to see the town’s doctor, she was diagnosed with a swollen forehead, but no concussion, and a twisted ankle. She was quickly bandaged up and sent home with a bottle of pain medication.

  Kat sighed, leaning her head against the couch. It was a very stupid accident. She definitely should’ve known better but she hadn’t really been thinking with a clear head. Too many thoughts had occupied her mind.