We’re both daunting men, the difference is that I try to hide it. I’m not looking for a fight or to scare anyone. I’m not sure Jay is either, but he can’t hide the darkness inside him or the terror of his past that eats away at him.
There’s a softness about my eyes and a gentleness in my rough voice. It’s enough to make people comfortable enough with me to get along just fine. There’s not a damn bit of that in Jay. There’s a hard edge in his eyes that never leaves. His shoulders turn in just slightly like he’s ready to fight at all times. He could maybe fool you with charm, since he’s got some of that in him, but the way his eyes pierce through you is enough to send a chill down your spine.
I’m usually not intimidated or frightened by anyone. I can stand on my own and take care of myself when I have to. But Jay has a side of him I’m pissed to admit frightens me. Not because of what he’d do to me, since I know I can take him. And not because I think he’d come for me. I toss the wrench down on the old wooden bench and start walking toward him, wiping my palms down on my jeans.
Jay’s not a threat to me; he’s not my enemy.
The fear is because I never know what Jay’s going to do. He’s fucked up in the head from his old man. Anger management doesn’t even begin to describe what he needs. He’s got problems I don’t know how to handle, and it doesn’t matter how much I try to help him. Some things you just can’t fix.
Nonetheless, Jay’s been there for me when I had no one. And I know why he’s the way he is. I don’t see him much, especially not since I picked up and moved to this tiny ass town, but if he needs me, I won’t turn my back on him.
Jay’s eyes light up and a smirk plays at his lips as he saunters down the wooden steps to the garage and gestures at the wrench. “You think that’d stop me?” he asks with playfulness in his voice.
I grin back at him, stopping to lean against the Chevy’s cargo bed in the middle of the large garage and shrugging my shoulders. A rough chuckle vibrates up my chest and I look back to my hands.
Jay’s boots smack on the floor as he comes to my side, bracing a hand on the back end of the truck and looking over his shoulder at the door.
“You bring someone with you?” I ask him.
He frowns a bit, shaking his head and looking down at the ground. He never comes with anyone. I may be a loner to some extent, but Jay is something different. I’m not sure if he prefers it that way, or if it’s because he just doesn’t trust himself.
“I got a favor to ask.” He stands beside me, shoving his hands into his jeans pockets and leaning back against the truck with me, mirroring my posture. He stares straight ahead and runs the back of his hand over his nose before saying, “You can’t tell anyone.” His voice is deadly low, and it makes my blood freeze in my veins.
I stare at him, waiting for more, but nothing comes. I clear my throat and try to relax against the hard metal.
I crack my neck to the side and nod my head. “You know I’m not going to say shit, Jay.”
He nods his head slightly, his brow furrowing as he continues to avoid my gaze. He swallows thickly and says, “I’m gonna do something... and I need your help.”
He finally looks at me, his eyes as cold as ice and narrowed. “There’s a woman.” My heart thuds once and my hands start to clench into fists, but I keep it from happening. Every bit of me is screaming to back out now, to tell him I don’t want to hear it.
But I know what he’s capable of, and I need to know who she is and what he’s planning.
“A woman?” I ask. A chill flows in waves down my arms as if a cold draft has come through. I ignore the churning in the pit of my stomach. He’d never hurt a woman. Never. I know him. There’s no fucking way he’d ever put his hand on a woman.
“She’s broken, John.” His voice is full of pain, and he breaks the gaze first. He talks to the ground as he adds, “She needs my help, but she’s not going to want it.”
“Then don’t,” I answer simply. If she doesn’t want the help, there’s no fucking reason he should approach her. He’s got a warped sense of reality.
“She’s hurting because of me,” he admits quietly.
Tension grows in every inch of my body. I focus on my breathing, on staying cool and calm. Jay’s violent and hot tempered. I stretch my jaw and look away, trying to convince myself it’s going to be okay. That I can change his mind or stop him from whatever fucked up bullshit he thinks is going to happen.
“I have to,” he says with conviction as if he read my mind.
It’s only then that I see the dark circles under his eyes and how weary he looks. “Maybe you-” I speak without thinking, just trying to keep him appeased and take control of the situation.
“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head before I can even finish. His body looks just as tense as mine as he pushes off the truck. I think he’s going to leave, but instead, he starts pacing, running his hands through his thick short hair. “It’s because of me,” he confesses without stopping as his strangled voice repeats in nearly a whisper, “It’s because of me.”
My chest squeezes tight with pain watching him like this. It’s been years. I haven't seen him break down since we were children. Weak. Pathetic.
The words whisper in the back of my head and he stops in his tracks, turning slowly, giving me a deadly look as if I said them out loud. For a moment, I think I may have. But he relaxes his stance and walks toward me slowly, stopping a few feet from me.
“She needs help.”
“Then get her help from someone else.” I answer him simply, licking my lower lip and hoping he’ll reconsider whatever his plans are.
His eyes narrow slightly as he cocks his head, an asymmetric grin growing on his face. “She’s going to help me, too.” The way he says the words, so softly, with so much confidence and conviction, forces me to stare into his eyes, realizing there’s no way to get him to stop.
“What are you going to do?” I ask, crossing my arms and trying my damnedest to just stay calm.
“I just want to get her alone and talk to her.”
“Kidnapping-” The word is ripped from my throat before he cuts me off.
“It’s not what you think,” he says, his own hands balling into fists so tightly his knuckles turn white. The air is tense and thick between us. The sun setting makes the garage darker than it was only moments ago.
“You want me to help you kidnap her?” I ask him, not bothering to hide the disgust in my voice. The smile stays in place on his lips as he searches my eyes for something. He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded photograph. It’s been creased twice, once down the middle and again at an angle off-center. He smooths it in his palm, finally looking away from me and answering, “I don’t need help there, John.” His voice is sad, as if he already regrets taking her.
He passes me the photo, flattening it against my chest with a hard thud and not letting go until I reach up to take the photo with my own hand.
“I just want you there to watch.”
Adrenaline pumps through me at his request, anger rising in me. “And what am I going to be watching?”
“I just want to talk to her. I don’t want to hurt her. I just want to fix her.”