CHAPTER ELEVEN

 

He placed me on the bottom step of the stairs up to the bedrooms and forced me to sit up. He was kneeling in front of me, his eyes fixed on me. He cupped my cheeks in both hands and called my name gently. “Breathe out.”

I clutched at my chest. The pain was growing worse. I wanted to breathe so badly. I wanted to cry. I wanted to tell him I loved him; wanted him to hold me. I tried to suck in a deep breath but it only burned more viciously.

“Veronica,” McCoy’s voice sounded far away, “listen to me. Breathe out. Slowly. You can do this.”

I couldn’t do it. I tried. McCoy put his hand behind my head and sat beside me on the stairs. He pulled my cheek to his chest and rested his chin on my head. He rubbed the back of my neck with his fingers. “Please,” he whispered.

The breath escaped through my lips. The agony in my lungs softened to a dull throb and I was able to draw in a shallow breath. I tucked myself in closer to him as my breathing evened out. He held me tighter and drew me up between his legs, as if he could completely envelop me into his own being.

“Are you okay?” He asked.

I nodded. My tears leaked on to his shirt. I clutched at the fabric and breathed in deep breaths that smelled like him. He kissed the top of my head and I felt him let out a deep breath of his own. “I’ve got you.”

Carly came through the front door. She was out of breath. She called my name before she saw me curled up in McCoy’s arms on the stairs. I looked up at her. She was alone. “The police are coming,” she said, and I realized she wasn’t talking to me, she was talking to McCoy.

I felt him nod. Then he motioned Carly over. She cast a wary glance at Jason, who I had already completely forgotten about. He was standing in the open archway to the kitchen. He still held the bat in his hand, but his grip wasn’t as tight as it had been, and his face wasn’t set with the same bitter anger that had scared me to death. Jason was watching McCoy as Carly approached us on the stairs.

McCoy guided her down to the bottom step beside us. She sat behind me as I still clung to McCoy’s shirt. Then he gently encouraged me to let go of him. Carly took my wrists and pulled me closer to her as McCoy untangled himself from me and stood. As I watched him step down into the hallway I could see that he wasn’t entirely steady on his feet.

Jason didn’t seem to catch the subtle sway. He stared at McCoy with an expression I couldn’t

 read. McCoy stretched out an arm. “Give me the bat.”

Jason shook his head.

“I’m not asking.” McCoy’s voice was menacing. This was the man I recognized from the first night I saw him when Carly was throwing up in the grass. His demeanor wasn’t the calm and gentle one I had grown used to. His fist was clenched by his side. His back was straight. The hand he held out to Jason flexed to encourage him to hand the weapon over.

Jason still wouldn’t submit. He took an uneasy step backwards from McCoy.

Then I heard sirens whirring to life outside. A sob escaped me that I realized was relief. Carly was shaking as she held on to me. She pulled me closer and we wrapped our arms around each other.

Jason seemed to hear the sirens as well, and his reaction to the sound was not what I had been anticipating. He let out an angry yell and raised the bat over his head. He swung with as much strength as he possessed, and the bat whistled through the air, forcing McCoy to jump back a step. I watched in horror as Jason swung again, his anger pushing him forwards with ferocity. He raised the bat over his head. I wanted to scream for McCoy. The sirens were so close.

McCoy stepped into the swing as the bat came barreling down towards him. I didn’t suppress my terrified shout for him. I watched as McCoy moved in on Jason. His fist slammed into Jason’s jaw. The bat fell from Jason’s grip moments before it collided with McCoy’s shoulder. It hit the wooden floor after McCoy had already delivered his second blow, sending Jason staggering back into the wall.

His back hit one of my framed photos which cracked beneath his weight and fell to the ground, smashing to pieces beneath both men’s feet.

McCoy hit him again. Jason started to sink to the ground, his eyes dazed and unseeing as McCoy wrapped his fists in the front of Jason’s shirt. He hauled him back up to his feet. Then he buried his fist in Jason’s stomach three times.

“McCoy!” I called.

He didn’t stop. I could feel his anger boiling in him as he pinned Jason to the wall. He leaned in close, and I couldn’t hear the words that he whispered to Jason. He struck him again. There was blood everywhere. Jason’s bottom lip was split. His nose didn’t look the same. One eye was bloodied and half closed.

I extracted myself from Carly’s grasp and called McCoy’s name again as he wound his arm back to land his next blow. “Stop it!”

He wouldn’t stop. Jason was a pulp beneath him. He couldn’t hold himself up anymore. His eyes were on McCoy as he pulled back to strike him again. I grabbed McCoy’s elbow. He turned his glare on me as he looked over his shoulder.

His eyes were dark. His lips were peeled back in a snarl of his own and his jaw was locked.

“He’s had enough,” I said. “Let him go. He can’t hurt us anymore.”

McCoy’s gaze slid back to Jason. His fist was still wrapped in the front of Jason’s shirt, and he used it as leverage to hold him tight against the wall. I watched his grip loosen. Then, finally, he released him, and Jason slid down the length of my wall to sit with his legs sprawled in front of him on my floor. Jason’s chin dipped to rest on his chest, and he stayed still below McCoy.

McCoy lowered his fist and I released his elbow. He wouldn’t turn to me as I tried to pull his shirt. I tried to bring him back. “McCoy,” I whispered, “it’s okay. It’s over.”

He stayed dead still. His shoulders rose and fell with each sharp breath he drew. He was trying to calm himself. I lightly rested both hands on his shoulder blades. I pressed myself up against his back, then brought my arms in front of him to clasp my hands in front of his chest so I was hugging him.

He relaxed. The tightness in all his muscles evaporated. His breathing evened out. He hung his head and we stayed like that for what felt like hours. When he finally started turning around to face me, I released my grip around him and tilted my chin back so I could look at his face.

He looked miserable. He wouldn’t meet my eyes. Instead, he stared down at our feet. “I’m sorry,” he managed through clenched teeth.

“Why?” I didn’t understand.

“That you saw that. That’s not who I want to be… not who you deserve. If you hadn’t stopped me…”

“You would have stopped yourself.” I told him. I didn’t know if that was true or not. I hadn’t seen or sensed an end to the beating McCoy was delivering. Had I not stepped in I didn’t know what would have become of Jason. As it were, I wasn’t sure what had become of him now. I dared not look at him, crumpled and bloody on my floor.

“I wouldn’t have.” McCoy shook his head. “I know I wouldn’t have.”

I didn’t know what to say. So I wrapped my arms around him again and pressed myself as close to him as I could get. He held me to him with the same desperation I felt clawing inside me. Then he called over to Carly. “You hurt?”

She stood from the stairs and shook her head. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her stomach. I nodded her over. She joined us and I pulled her into our hug. At first I could tell that McCoy wanted to separate himself from us. He wanted to flee and put distance between himself and this whole mess. But I held him tighter. Eventually he softened and held on to both of us.

“Are you hurt?” I asked him when Carly and I finally had the nerve to stand on our own.

He shrugged- that same, small shrug I was so used to now. “Headache.”

“You should sit. The police will be here soon, I can explain it all.”