opening, but not closing. She looked up;
Jason was standing in the open door, the morning sun behind him, his face in
shadow.
“Ann? Are you okay?” He
strode across the room, pulling her up by her arms. There was an urgency to his
voice, a look of alarm on his face.
“Who was it? Who hurt
you?” His gaze swept over her, taking in everything, pulling her against him.
All she could do was
shake her head, her voice lost to her tears.
“I’m calling 911.”
“No… don’t.” She took a
deep breath, closing her eyes. Please forgive me, Jason. “It was my
husband.”
She looked up, meeting
his eyes, afraid of what she’d find there. The pain she saw in the green depths
drove a knife through her heart. She realized she was practically naked, her
shirt torn open, her breasts exposed, her jeans down around her hips.
With little success,
she tried to pull the edges of her blouse over herself, finally pulling away
from Jason, reaching down to grab an afghan off the couch. She turned away,
tugging her jeans up her legs.
The sound of the zipper
was loud, too loud. It was the sound of her guilt, the final note to that
terrible song she’d just sung… with David. She turned, saw Jason cringe, confusion
added to the pain on his face.
“Jason, I can explain.
It’s not what it looks like.” I’m not even sure what this looks like.
“It looks like you were
assaulted, but apparently that’s not what happened.” He held up his hands,
backing away from her. “But there’s no need to explain. You’re a free woman,
you can do whatever you want in your own house. With whomever you want. I’m
just the hired help.”
The coldness in his
voice hurt more than she would have thought possible. She watched him turn away
from her, walking down the hall to the bedroom.
“Jason…wait.” She
followed him, the afghan trailing behind her, tangling in her feet as she
stumbled down the hall.
He was pulling his few
belongings out of the closet, stuffing them into his battered duffel bag. The
room was dim and she turned on the light. She could see his hands trembling, a
few pieces of clothing falling to the floor. He bent to retrieve them, pushing
them angrily into the duffle. His voice was muffled as he spoke.
“I’ll be gone in just a
little bit. There’s a few things of mine in the barn… tools and such….”
Ann moved toward him,
clutching the afghan. As she reached for him, fingers brushing his arm, he
twisted, turning away from her, not meeting her eyes.
“No… don’t. Like I
said, you’re a free woman. We have nothing….”
“But we do… you don’t
understanding….”
Jason spun around, his
eyes bright. Ann wasn’t sure if he was on the verge of tears or if he was
angry. The intensity in his eyes made her take a step backward.
“What’s to understand?
I come back and find you’ve just fucked some guy in your living room. Excuse
me, fucked your husband in your living room.” He spat the words at her,
pointing over her shoulder to the open bedroom door, walking toward her.
“I thought he was your
ex-husband. Convenient that you left the ‘ex’ part out when you told me the
story.” He took another step forward, this time grabbing her arm. His fingers
dug into her flesh, and she cried out, flinching, pulling against his grip.
“Jason…please. You’re
hurting me.”
There was a moment
where he held her, staring down at his hand, as if he just realized he was
touching her. With a ragged sigh, he let her go, taking a few uncertain steps
backward before sinking down onto the bed, his head in his hands, fingers
tugging at his hair.
“Shit. What the hell is
happening here, Ann?” Jason raised his head, looking at her.
“Jason…” Ann reached
for him again, longing to touch him, but pulled her hand back. Instead she
knelt on the floor in front of him. “Will you let me try to explain?” She settled
for resting a hand on his knee. He didn’t pull away this time, just stared at the
rug
Elmore - Carl Webster 03 Leonard