Hard Focus

by MariaLisa deMora

  Ignoring his question, she shook her head. “What are you doing here?”

  “What? I can’t come see my girlfriend?” He took a step towards her and Connie found herself edging back towards the elevator. The doors bumped her arm, reopening when they met the obstruction. “Where were you tonight?”

  “You need to leave.” She tried to keep her voice steady, but her heart was hammering wildly in her chest, blood pounding and echoing in her ears. She cradled the phone to her chest, hoping to hide how badly her hands were shaking.

  He had positioned himself between her and the apartment, and with the open elevator at her back, Connie felt frozen by indecision. Should she walk towards him? Still, even as angry as she was it seemed a foolhardy approach for a woman alone. But you know him. You’ve slept with him. Shrugging off her thoughts, she backed another step into the elevator. I could go to Taylor’s apartment. “Jonas, you need to go.” Her body decided for her, and her arm jerked upwards at the last moment, blocking the doors again. The elevator began making a loud buzzing noise. “I’m tired, and I don’t want to do this right now.”

  He stared at her, head slightly cocked to the side. “You’re kicking me out?” The hurt in his voice scored her conscience. Then he ruined any sympathy she might have felt by adding, “After the shit day I had?”

  Suddenly infuriated, she stalked towards him, the elevator closing behind her. “You had a bad day? I got a demand from this guy I’ve been dating”—his head jolted at that, and she realized she hadn’t called him her boyfriend—“to leave work early and pick up the daughter he has with another woman. Me being the kind of person I am, I do that, only to be treated like crap by that woman’s brother”—Cole hadn’t really treated her like shit, and she guiltily remembered his defense of her against Jonas’ behavior—“and then by you.” He reached for her. “So, before you say you had such a bad day, consider mine.”

  She twisted away and avoided his grasping hand as she dug her keys out. After two tries, she got the door open, then turned to tell him to leave and gulped when he was right there in her face. Eyes blazing, he reached and seized the edge of the door. She leaned against the door to try and close it, but he slowly forced it open, easily pushing against all her strength. Connie stumbled backwards into the apartment and Jonas followed after her, the door closing behind him with a quiet click. “Jonas,”—she unsuccessfully tried to ignore the tremble in her voice, feeling the quaking migrate to the muscles of her legs—“you need to leave.”

  “I had a shit day,” Jonas repeated, each word enunciated separately, a deliberate and frightening pause between them as if he didn’t believe her intelligent enough to understand his meaning otherwise. He followed her up the hallway, head down, eyes glaring at her from underneath his brows.

  She escaped into the kitchen and cast around for anything that would help better her situation. She kept her eyes locked on him as she angled behind the island, successful in putting about five feet of distance between them. Connie kept her gaze fixed on his face, trying to read the emotion in his eyes, but they were shuttered tightly, blank as he stared at her, his eyes filled with dark shadows. She tried to warn him off a final time. “Jonas, don’t. Don’t do this.” Whatever “this” was, she didn’t know, and Connie had a sickening feeling she really didn’t want to learn his intentions. Would it help to admit a tiny bit of vulnerability? “You’re scaring me.”

  “Some guys hit the bottle after a bad day. Or hit something else.” He snarled, lip curling so high it pulled the side of his face into a terrifying grimace. Was that a threat? “Me? I just wanted to see my girlfriend. Thought she might make me feel better. Make me feel good. Never really had one before now, and I thought one of the perks of having a girlfriend was she’d have your back, no matter what. Be there when you’re down, that kind of thing.” He shifted to move around the island, and she flicked her eyes towards the door, measuring the distance. At her single, instinctive glance, Jonas pulled to a stop and took a step back towards the center, cutting her off. “But, I guess I was wrong. Because I had a shit day, and she’s not there for me. And when I tried to talk to her, all she did was ignore my texts and calls.” He placed a hand on top of the island, and she stared at his fingers, watching as they flexed and curled into a fist, tendons pulling taut and hard knuckles whitening from the pressure. “Then I thought to myself, what if she’s sick or hurt? She’d want me to be there for her. And it’s only fair that this goes both ways, right? I was afraid for her, so I go to her apartment. Know what I found, Connie?”

  “I’d like you to leave.” Repetition should have soothed her nerves, but Connie found herself shuddering as waves of fear broke over her. This is stupid. I know him. It’s Jonas. He won’t hurt me. Her body didn’t believe her internal reassurances, however, because her feet stayed stuck in place.

  “She wasn’t home. Wasn’t even home. Here I am worried about her, and she’s out on the town doing who knows what.” His voice dropped low. “Or who.”

  “I’d really like you to leave.”

  “And I’d like to spend time with my girlfriend.” She jerked when he slammed his fist against the countertop. “Because I had a shit day.” He paused and his hand clenched and released, clenched and released. “Oh, right, sorry. My bad. I forgot I’m just the guy you’ve been dating.” He slammed his fist against the countertop again.

  Connie sidled sideways. It felt as if she were suffocating, like there wasn’t enough air in the room for both of them and she was lightheaded from the lack of oxygen. Her brain stuttered rapidly from thought to thought, examining and discarding defensive ideas faster than she could really clasp onto them. Knives, too far. Door, too far. Coffee mug in the sink full of soapy water, a possible missile.

  Jonas straightened, and her attention snapped back to him. They locked gazes for a moment, and she didn’t recognize the man in front of her. Angry, he looked more furious than she’d ever seen someone, and the emotion had twisted the features of his face until he looked like a different person. Dark. Dangerous. He stood still for a moment then shook himself like a dog. Silently, he turned and headed towards the door. Without turning around, he opened it and paused. “I’ll call you.” Empty of inflection, his words were spoken straight ahead as he looked out into the empty hallway. Then he was out and the door closed, and she was alone.

  “Oh my God.” Crying out in relief, Connie slipped to the kitchen floor, folding up to rest her head in her hands. Only then did she realize she still held her phone, and she wondered at whatever blind resistance she’d had to calling the police when she had felt so incredibly threatened. “Oh my God.” She’d never been so terrified in her life.

  Frightened to tears.

  By my boyfriend.

  Chapter Four

  “No, I’m done.” Connie lifted the coffee carafe and topped up Patty’s mug. “It’s just not working anymore.”

  She hadn’t told anyone about Jonas’ visit to her apartment, not even Taylor. Much as she loved him, Taylor would see it as a bigger deal than it was, and Connie wanted to avoid any drama if she could.

  “If it’s over, it’s over.” Patty agreed as she lifted her mug and sipped gingerly at the hot liquid. “Are you going to the firm’s party this weekend?”

  “Probably.” Connie smiled. “Depends on a couple of things. My baby sister is supposed to come visit me soon, but she’s being cagey about when.” She laughed. “Knowing her, I could either have a visitor tonight or sometime in the next two weeks.”

  “Are you close?” Patty nudged an empty mug closer to the carafe. “Do me a favor and pour one for Mr. Matthews?”

  “We were once.” Connie handed the full mug to Patty. “I’m kind of hoping this can be the start of a better relationship.” She finished her coffee and rinsed the mug, turning it upside down in the strainer. “I’m the good girl. She’s the wild child.”

  “Every family has one.” Patty gave her another smile. “Hope to see you at the party.”


  Connie lost herself in work for the rest of the day, looking up with surprise when someone leaned across the desk and blocked her view of the computer monitor. “What?” She blinked as she focused in on the man’s face next to her. “Mr. Matthews.”

  “Time to go home, Connie.” He backed up slightly and usurped her hold on the computer’s mouse. With a few clicks, he saved and closed the document she’d been working on, then initiated the computer’s shutdown. “Past time.”

  The clock on the wall said it was after eight. “I guess it is.”

  He moved back as she stood, then waited, making polite small talk as Connie collected her purse. Phone in hand, she exited the building just in front of him, arguing about accepting a ride home.

  “I won’t take no for an answer.” Mr. Matthews laughed as Connie shook her head. “It’s not out of my way, and this time of night, you’ll be waiting forever for a car. Cancel the request. I can have you home in less than fifteen minutes.”

  “It’s really not necessary, Mr. Matthews.”

  He studied her for a moment, then pulled out his phone. Balancing it in the fingers of one hand, without saying anything, he video-called a contact. A woman answered with a broad smile on her face, asking, “Dalton, are you headed home?”

  “Soon, honey. I’ve got an overzealous employee I need to escort to her apartment first.” Connie pulled in a deep breath. She hadn’t even been aware of how tense the offer had made her, and his immediate action to put her at ease was more than comforting; it made her feel even more like the firm was like family. “Samantha, meet Connie.”

  “Hi,” Connie said, waving at the phone self-consciously.

  “Hello, Connie. I’ve heard good things about you from Patty and Dalton. Let me guess, you lost track of time, and now Dalton wants to give you a ride?” Connie nodded and smiled. “That man.” Matthews’ wife smiled fondly. “Let him. Then, I hope you’ll come to the party, so we can be properly introduced.” Samantha Matthews laughed as she returned the wave. “But first, let Dalton run you home. I’ll worry otherwise, and then I won’t leave him alone about it.”

  “Thank you both. You’re too kind.”

  True to his word, Mr. Matthews dropped her off in front of her apartment building less than fifteen minutes later. He waited for her to make her way inside, then waved as he pulled back into traffic. On her way to the row of mailboxes, Connie felt her phone vibrate. She pulled it out and answered without looking at the display, focused instead on getting the small key into the lock to get her mail.

  Before she could offer a greeting, she heard Jonas’ voice asking brusquely, “Where are you?” The sound was weirdly doubled, so she looked around the lobby but didn’t see him.

  Still poised on the edge of the emotional blade from their last encounter, his voice reminded her of the fear she’d experienced, somehow muted throughout the days apart. She had talked about it to Patty in an almost analytical fashion, unwilling to admit even to herself how unsafe she might have been. Jonas brought all that back in a rush with a single, barked question.

  Then he spoke from directly behind her. “Connie.” The phone’s speakers didn’t echo her name, which meant he’d disconnected when he’d seen her. Her heartbeats soared, adrenaline flooding her system. “Where have you been?”

  Panic struck her, and with her breaths coming in short pants, she whirled, mail in hand, shoving the phone and keys into her purse, wanting her hands free. “Jonas, you scared me. I worked late and my boss gave me a ride home.” She took a breath, trying to calm herself. “What are you doing here?”

  “I wanted to apologize.” He spread his hands to the side and shrugged. “Flowers didn’t seem like enough this time, and I wasn’t sure what kind of gift said ‘I’m an asshole and I’m sorry’ so I thought I’d see if you were still speaking to me.” He smiled crookedly and took a step forwards. “Are you still speaking to me?” He tried to grip her wrist and she yanked away, the hard pull making her skin sting.

  Wrist aching, Connie stared into his eyes and prayed what she saw was only chagrin and sincerity. It’s time for hard truths. “Maybe not.” He blinked and opened his mouth, but she cut him off. “You embarrassed me, belittled me, and then frightened me. If this were happening to my sister, I’d tell her to dump the guy because clearly it wasn’t a healthy relationship.” Tears threatened, and she curled her nails into her palms as she took a sharp breath. Using the pain to help her focus, she told him, “Why don’t we call a break, Jonas? That’s probably the best thing we could do.”

  “What?” His head shook slightly as he straightened, fingers curling into fists as they propped on his hips. “No. We’re not calling a break.”

  Movement behind him caught her eye, and she glimpsed Taylor headed into the building from the rec area. Crap. The last thing she wanted was to have a public fight with Jonas. Shoving aside her lingering fears, she turned and walked to the elevators. “Come on, let’s talk upstairs.” The doors opened immediately when she pushed the button, and he crowded in behind her and touched the button for her floor. Connie stepped to the side as far as she could and massaged her wrist, glancing down to see a raised ridge of reddened flesh where his fingers had held her. Christ.

  They were silent on the way into her apartment. Once inside, Connie immediately went to the kitchen, painfully aware it was a sloppy recreation of the previous scene between them. Placing her purse on the counter, she positioned herself on one side of the island, watching as he leaned against it opposite her.

  “I don’t want a break.” He picked up the conversation from where she’d left it in the lobby. “I want to tell you I’m sorry and have us go back to where we were.”

  “It’s not working for me, Jonas.” She lifted her chin. “We’re more different than I realized when we began dating.”

  “Don’t do this, Connie.” He sighed. “I like what we have. It’s working for me.”

  “Well, it’s not for me. I’m sorry.” Why am I apologizing? Connie shook her head and rolled her nails across the already-raw places on her palms. “There’s really nothing more to say.” Her phone buzzed in her purse and she turned to retrieve it. Her father’s face smiled up at her from the screen. Cradling the phone, she said, “It’s my dad. I need to take this. I’ll…” She floundered for a moment, then finished, “…see you around.”

  “I’m gonna miss you. Hell—” He paused and shoved a hand roughly through his hair. “—I already do.” Her phone buzzed again and he glared at it, then softened his expression when he looked up at her. “I’ll let myself out then. Be well, Connie.”

  “You, too.” He was still walking away when she tapped the screen for audio and brought the phone to her ear. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Baby girl. Good to hear your voice. How are you?”

  The front door opened, and closed, and only then did she release the breath she’d been holding.

  “I’m good.”

  ***

  Cole

  “Uncle Cole.” Addy’s voice came from his living room and Cole smiled. They were having a sleepover, something he didn’t get to do as often as he wanted, but with Thompson acting an ass, he’d taken advantage of the extra days in Audrey’s custody. “What are we gonna eat?”

  “What do you want, sweetheart?” He bent over, putting away the last of the groceries they’d gone shopping for. “Want my world-famous meatloaf?” Addy made fake gagging sounds and he laughed. “Hey, it’s not that bad.”

  “Uncle Ryan said you poisoned him with it.”

  “Uncle Ryan’s a big fat liar.” He already knew what he was making, but this was a game she liked to play, running through the options gave her a sense of control, something direly missing in her short life. “I could make hamburgers with onions.”

  “Ewwww. Onions are bad.” He heard her bare soles hit the floor and grinned at her as she raced through the doorway, skidding to a stop beside his legs. She wrapped an arm around each thigh as she climbed on top of his feet, stretching up t
o her toes as she said, “Make me tacos. I lo-ove your tacos, Uncle Cole.”

  “Tacos it is.” He caressed the back of her head, smiling down and pondering the humor of the universe which gave his sister a precious gift like this out of the shitshow that was Jonas Thompson. “I love to cook for you.”

  “You just love to cook.” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Mommy said.”

  “Mommy’s right.” He caught her underneath her arms and lifted her, placing her butt on the counter well away from the stovetop. “Want to help me? I can teach you my ways, young chef girl.” Gathering the pans he needed, he started the lesson with, “Cooking is one of the ways you can show someone how you feel about them without having to say the words. So if you’re ever afraid of showing someone you like them, just cook for them. They’ll get the message.”

  ***

  Connie

  “I will call Big Tony.”

  Connie huffed a soft laugh at Taylor’s declaration. “It’s done. Nothing to worry about.”

  Eyes stretched wide, he shook his head. “I don’t care.” She gave him big eyes in response. “Oh, no. See, I do not care. That turd bucket shows up here again and I’ll be on the phone so fast you won’t even see me dial.” He copied the motions it would take to dial that fast, fingers flying across an imaginary phone as Taylor glared at her over the rim of his glass. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me what was going on.”

  She knew half of his bluster was anger because she hadn’t confided. He was hurt because his friend had been dealing with something he didn’t know about. Reaching across the table, she covered one of his hands with hers, giving him a squeeze. “A lot happened quickly. I think I was trying to come to terms with what I needed to do, and him showing up?” She shrugged. “Tipped the scales. I’m kind of glad he showed up, honestly.”