Kristen Ashley - Jagged

“But Xavier,” Mom started in a small voice, “in our last meeting with them, they told us, with our bank accounts frozen and us not able to pay them, that we—”

“Call them!” Dad barked.

She nodded swiftly, glanced at me, and as usual gave me absolutely not one bit more. Even after witnessing that whole debacle, she looked after herself and her safety and scurried away, digging in her purse.

It was just then, at that moment, held by my man, this suddenly lost its power to hurt me.

I took my eyes from Mom and, held close to Ham, his hand still at my throat, I watched my father get patted down, handcuffed, and read his rights.

It.

Was.

Awesome.

“I so totally wish Xenia was here,” I whispered to Ham. “She would freaking love this.”

“Cookie,” Ham started, I looked up at him and even when I did his hand didn’t fall away from my throat. “How in the fuck can you make me want to laugh when I’m this goddamned motherfucking pissed?”

I shrugged and replied, “It’s just me.”

His eyes studied my face then his hand slid down to my chest and his gaze moved over my throat before his hand slid back up and his eyes again caught mine.

“Yeah. It’s just you,” he murmured and the warmth and approval in his eyes made me melt into him.

“Thanks for nearly choking my dad to death after he assaulted me,” I said and Ham blinked before he stared and finally his lips twitched. When I saw the lip twitch, I went on. “And also, thanks for making that nearly choking him, seein’ as it might be difficult for us to get married and me to get knocked up if you were serving time for involuntary manslaughter.”

At that, Ham’s lips stopped twitching and curled up.

I shifted to his front, got up on my toes, and wrapped my arms around him before I assured him quietly, “I’m all right.”

“You always are, baby,” he replied just as quietly.

“And you’re always there when I need you,” I returned.

Ham’s eyes flared. His hand at my throat shifted around and up into the back of my hair and he bent his head to touch his lips to mine.

“Champagne!” I heard Nina shout as Ham lifted his mouth from mine and we both turned to see her close. “Two counts of assault and trespassing!” she declared and clapped with excitement. “Isn’t that great?” she asked but didn’t wait for an answer.

She turned to Arlene.

Before she could say a word, Arlene started toddling toward her car, announcing, “I’m on it.”

“I’ll go with,” Kami called, following her.

I didn’t get the chance to look to see what was happening to Dad as, with Maybelle as sentry at my free side, Latrell playing sentry to her, some of the crowd following close at our backs, others staying to watch the finale to my Dad’s arrest, Ham firmly led me back into the house.

But I was able to break away in the excited shuffle once we got inside.

When I did, keeping an eye on a mindful Ham, who clearly wanted to keep an eye on me, I managed to perform a miracle. I snuck to the front door and looked out the window at the side so I could watch as the cruiser pulled up and Jeff and Pete shuffled my dad to one of the back doors, Jeff putting his hand to Dad’s head after Pete opened the door, and folding Dad in.

So engrossed in this, when my hand was taken in a firm grip, my body gave a slight jump and I turned to see Aunt Wilona, her eyes aimed out the window.

“It’s all but over,” she said to the window.

“I figure it is,” I agreed.

She looked at me.

I smiled at her.

Her eyes dropped to my lips then came back to mine and she smiled back.

“Cookie, get away from the fuckin’ window!” Ham ordered loudly even though he was only five feet away.

I rolled my eyes at my aunt, gave her hand a squeeze, then moved from the window.

Lifting my hand to my forehead in a salute directed Ham’s way, I yelled, “As you wish, mein herr!”

Ham shook his head.

I turned to my aunt, looked at her cheek, and whispered, “Let’s go to the kitchen and get you some ice.”

She nodded. We did that. I left her with Wanda in the kitchen, found Zander with Mindy and Becca in the guest bedroom, and I relieved my girlfriends.

Once they left, I gave him a good onceover. I didn’t know him all that well but I could still tell he was freaked mostly because you couldn’t miss it.

I sat next to him on the bed and took his hand. “It’s all cool, darlin’.”

“Uncle Reece was real mad,” he replied.

He was not wrong about that.

“Yep, he likes me a whole bunch and doesn’t like it when someone hurts me, but he’s okay now,” I assured him.

“Is Nona okay?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’ve got a good friend takin’ care of her.”

Zander’s eyes moved over my face, possibly in an attempt to make sure I was telling the truth.

I figured he believed me but still, he asked, “Can I go to her?”

He was a good kid and he loved his Nona. Which meant she’d earned that love.

Without delay, I got off the bed, pulling him up with me. “Let’s go.”

I took Zander to Aunt Wilona. They huddled. I hung with them, taking their pulse, and when it seemed Aunt Wilona had it covered, I wandered out of the kitchen and found Ham.

I moved right to him and fitted myself to his side.

When I did, one of his arms went around my shoulders and he lifted his other hand, shifting my hair away. His fingertips gliding over the shell of my ear, and they slid down my neck and across my throat.

“All good?” he murmured.

“Better than ever,” I replied and when he looked like he didn’t believe me, I leaned into him whispered, “I think you may have noticed this already, but some of us Cinders, we’re survivors.”

He held my eyes and lifted his hand to cup my jaw as he bent his head to mine.

“Don’t know about the others, but I know that’s true about you.”

My arms already around him tightened.

“Love my cookie,” he said softly and I felt a smile curve my lips.

“And I love my bruiser,” I replied and watched a smile curve his.

Then he dipped his head farther to touch his lips to mine, and when he was still doing that, we heard Arlene shout, “Got the champagne!”

Ham broke our contact and we turned our heads to see Arlene and Kami at the door and each held a bottle of champagne in both their hands. Arlene’s eyes were on Ham.

“Big bear of a hot guy, there’s a case in my car. I reckon you won’t have problems liftin’ it. So get your hind end out there and do that,” she ordered.

I laughed as I heard Ham’s chuckle. Then I got two squeezes and my man let me go in order to move to the front door.

I watched him go.

Then I looked through my house at my friends, Xenia’s friends, knowing my nephew was in the kitchen with my aunt, and listening to muted music, unmuted chatter, then finally hearing a champagne cork pop.

My eyes slid to one of the framed photos of my sister on my bar.

“Wish you were here, darlin’,” I whispered across the room to the photo.

As ever, I got no reply.

Then I moved that way in order to find cups.

Everything

Three months later…

“But I’m not crazy!”

I shouted this and Zander, lying beside me in the dark on a blanket over the snow on Xenia’s grave, jumped a mile and gave out a strangled scream.

I’d just told him one of Xenia’s doozies, a scary story that was the best of all her scary stories, with the kill line being the one I’d just delivered.

I knew it was a weird, me and my nephew out at night in the cold dark lying on my sister’s grave.

I also didn’t care.

I wanted her with us and this was as good as we were both going to get.

Anyway, Zander thought it was awesome. I’d heard him with his friends when he didn’t think I could hear and he told them I was the coolest aunt ever, primarily because I was crazy and part of this craziness was me taking him to his mom’s grave at night, this being something all his friends thought was totally weird and therefore awesome.

Since Xenia’s memorial, Ham and I saw Zander and Aunt Wilona frequently. We went to their place for dinner, they came to ours, and Zander came often, Aunt Wilona dropping him or Ham and I picking him up so he could hang, watch movies, go out to movies with us, or whatever.

And we’d had Zander and his friends over for two sleepovers and, as I mentioned, his friends thought I was awesome because I was crazy. But they thought Ham was awesome because he was big and scary, had a bike, worked at a bar, and exuded such badass awesomeness that any nine year-old-boy would appreciate it.

Zander and I were both on our backs and when he screamed, I turned to my side and got up on my forearm.

“I got ya,” I stated the obvious, smiling at him through the dark.

“Yeah,” he replied, pushing up to both his forearms in the blanket behind him and I could see his smile lit by moonlight. “That was a good one.”

“I always get ya,” I reminded him.

“One of these times, you won’t get me,” he returned.

I knew he was right. I’d run out of stories or he’d grow up and not be so easy to scare.

But we had this now. What Xenia gave to me, telling me these stories, I gave to her son because she couldn’t. And I thanked God every Sunday at church, dragging myself and Ham there even if we worked the shift the night before, in order to do it.