Bestie
“Take another step, I’ll scream.”
“Don’t call your father!”
He lunges, I take a step back but he catches me around the wrist, causing my phone to fling out of my hand and skitter across the ground. This just went from a drunk fight to something so much more.
“Let me go!” I scream.
“Stop being such a bitch!” he hisses. “If you’d just listen.”
“Let me go.”
“Listen!”
“Let me go!”
“God dammit,” he roars, pulling his hand back and swinging.
His hand connects with my face so hard my head jerks to the side. It takes a few stunned moments for me to realise what’s happened. Pain explodes in my temple, and I sway on my feet as my vision blurs. That was a hard hit, and God, it kills.
“Molly, oh shit, I didn’t mean to ... I didn’t ...”
“Leave,” I gasp through the pain. “Right now, Michael. If you don’t, I’ll call my father and he will kill you. Walk away, leave me alone, never come back.”
He nods, pressing his hands together. “I’m so sor—”
“Leave!” I scream.
He turns and runs down the stairs, tripping and stumbling a few times before he disappears down the street. In somewhat of a daze, I turn towards the door and stumble towards it, only to realise my keys are on the ground somewhere. I lean down to pick them up and stumble as my head spins.
I drop onto my knees, turn my body and press my back against the wall, then angry tears rush down my face. Damn him. What kind of crazy person is he? I drop my head into my hands, and my face burns, my temple throbs, and my heart aches. It takes me a few minutes of quiet sobbing to get myself together, then I reach around for my phone.
I dial Jack.
Roman is back at work, and I have nobody else I trust.
“Hey, sista!” he answers cheerfully.
“Hey,” I croak. “Can you come over?”
His voice instantly sobers. “What’s wrong? What is it? Molly?”
“Can you just ... come over, Jack?”
“Of course.”
I hang up the phone, push to my feet and turn, opening the door after a few failed attempts. I stagger into the house and flick on the light, then I drop down onto the sofa and try to control the tears. I’ve never been hit by anyone before, let alone a man. A man I once loved. My heart feels like it’s splitting in two, I could swear it hurts more than my head.
A few minutes later, the front door swings open and Jack comes in. His eyes swing to me and rage flares in them. He might be more like his mother, but he has Mack’s temper. He’s calm most of the time, but when he explodes, he loses it and it can be a little scary.
“Where the fuck is he?”
I blink. “Jack ... what?”
“Where is he?”
He storms over and kneels down in front of me, taking my chin in his hand and tilting my head back.
“What makes you think it was a he?” I croak.
“Because of the way you sounded on the phone? Who did it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It was that fucking ex, wasn’t it?”
“Jack, please ....”
“I’ll fucking kill him. I will.”
“Please,” I croak and my voice breaks. Tears run down my cheeks.
Jack’s eyes soften. “Shit. Sorry Mol. I’m sorry. Come on, can you stand? We need to get some ice on this.”
He wraps an arm around my waist and helps me stand. On shaky legs, I walk to the kitchen where he sits me down and then carries on to get some ice in a washer. He dampens it just slightly under the tap and brings it over.
“Really close to your temple there, Mol. I think you should get that checked out.”
“It’s fine, it’s okay. It looks worse than it is, I’m sure.”
“Seriously, though ...”
“Jack,” I plead. “Please. I’ll go if it gets worse. Can you ... Can you just sit with me?”
He nods, eyes concerned. He knows not to argue with me.
“I’m staying then, I can’t have anything happening to you. And if that fucker comes back ...”
“He won’t,” I say, letting him help me down the hall to my room. “He’s too afraid of my dad. He’ll skip town, I can guarantee it.”
“Fucking piece of shit, hitting a woman.”
“Yeah,” I croak.
Jack lets me go for a second, and pulls back the bed covers. I sit on the mattress, and he kneels down, pulling off my shoes.
“I’ll get you some painkillers and water, get into the bed, okay?”
I nod, trying to fight back the tears that keep threatening to spill over. “Yeah, okay. Hey, Jack?”
He looks at me. “Yeah?”
“Will you stay with me?”
“I already told you I would.”
“I mean, will you stay in here with me. I’m ... afraid.”
He nods. “Fuck. Of course. I’ll be back soon.”
He disappears and I shakily change into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top, then I climb into the bed, pressing the ice to my eye. It hurts like hell, and I wince as the cold penetrates my skin.
Jack returns a few minutes later with a couple of pills and a glass of water. He hands it to me, and I drink it as he jerks off his shirt, dropping his jeans until he’s only in his boxers. Then he climbs into the bed beside me. We’re both sitting, backs against the headboard.
“What happened?” he asks, shuffling closer.
“He was drunk. He wanted to talk. We got into a bit of a scuffle, and he just slapped me, but it was so hard.”
“I can see that. Fucking piece of shit,” Jack mutters.
“Yeah.”
“You okay, Mol?”
I look to him, and my bottom lip trembles.
“Aw, come here.”
He wraps an arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer, tucking me into his side. I snuggle into him, so grateful to have him in my life. Jack and I have never had any romantic interest, we thought about it once but we honestly both just never felt the need for it. We always had such a great friendship. It’s different to what Roman and I share. Roman and I, we connect on a far deeper level than Jack and I ever have, but Jack and I, we understand each other.
He’s like my big brother, in a non-creepy way.