“I think she’s wonderful,” Joy says with a warm smile. “All the women are. I can’t thank you enough for helping me and introducing me to such wonderful people, Switch.”
“No need to thank me, babe -”
“Yes, there is.” Joy’s dark eyes search mine. “You don’t understand what you’ve given me, Switch. I’ve never been lucky enough in my life to have a family. Not a real one. I thought I found it once, but I was young and desperate to be free to build something with love.” Her eyes swim before she sniffs and gives me a watery smile. “It may have taken me a while to get there, but I think thanks to you and all my new friends I may have what I’ve always hoped.”
Fuck. I know I need to tell her about Hitchens and the danger that still swirls around her. I know it’s the right thing to do, but right here, right now? I just want her to be happy. In this moment I can give her that, I can give her the dream. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I will shatter her happiness. But tonight is for her and Kit to enjoy their pizza, for us to get to know each other a little more, to watch a movie and joke and laugh and revel in safety. So that’s what we’ll do.
Joy
Switch smiles along with Kit as we eat our pizza but something is a little…off. I’m not sure what it is. It’s not bad, at least I don’t think it is. He seems relaxed enough, it’s just that his easy smile seems less easy now. I want to ask what’s wrong, maybe I can fix it. Maybe he doesn't like the pizza, maybe I can cook him something else or maybe the house is too messy or maybe I - I freeze. My pizza halfway to my mouth as I catch my brain going through 1001 different ways to change the mood of a man I don’t know enough about to make happy. Placing my pizza down I wipe my hands on a napkin and quickly excuse myself, my gaze darting to Kit to make sure she’s relaxed and happy. My friendship with Switch may be new, but I know with every fiber of my being that this man would never hurt my child. Quite the opposite.
“I’ll be back in a moment,” I murmur, fists clenched and eyes down as I scurry from the dining room upstairs to my bedroom.
Shaking out my hands I pace back and forth at the foot of the bed, taking deep breaths just like my therapist taught me. I need to stop the loop in my brain, the one that notices every little shift of mood, the one that tells me it’s all my fault and it's up to me to make it all better because if I don’t, if I don’t it’ll all turn bad. It’s self-preservation. If I don’t fix it and I get hurt then who will look after Kit? Who will protect her? Who will keep her safe?
“I’m safe, we’re safe, Kit is safe,” I whisper to myself over and over and over, fist shaking, trying to get it into my thick skull but it isn’t working like it should. “You’re doing it wrong, of courseyou’re doing it wrong. Why wouldn't you be doing it wrong? You’re stupid, stupid, stu-”
Thick arms wrap around me from behind and my body jolts in panic. Twisting I try to remember all the things I learned tonight, the kicking, the twisting, the punching and none of it comes to mind. None of it filters through, but whatdoesfilter through is a smell I know. Leather and alcohol, but not the kind my late husband’s breath reeked of. This alcohol is the kind that clings to the ER and doctor’s surgeries.
“That’s it, I’ve got you. I’ve got you Joy,” Switch murmurs, bombastic with everyone else, but quiet with me as his voice whispers in my ear. His breath hot on my neck, his bulk behind me warm and grounding. “I’ve got you, Rocky Balboa.”
I spin my head to look at him, eyebrow arched in question, my earlier thoughts gone as I stare at him in confusion.
He huffs. “Rocky, like the film about the boxer? That was you tonight when you kicked Niko’s ass.”
“Oh.” My eyes cast downward even if the corner of my lip turns up.
Switch leads me to the bed where he releases me and for some reason I feel bereft. That feeling doesn't last too long as he gently gets me to sit on the edge of the bed before resting his bulk beside me and taking my hand in his.
“Want to tell me what happened back there?” he asks gently, his blue eyes searching mine.
“It’s stup-”
“And don’t use that word,” he says firmly. “I don’t ever want to hear you say that word again, especially not about yourself, you get me?” He peers down at me, waiting for me to give him my gaze.
“Sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about, babe. It’s just none of the shit I heard you telling yourself is true. I only want the truth.”
Taking a deep breath I chance a peek at him before letting it out. I feel safe, safe enough to share my thoughts. “It's going to sound sil-” I stop myself at his raised brow. “Sorry, ugh, gah, sorry again, just ignore that one!” I wave my free hand at him and don’t miss how he tries to hide his smile before sobering and nodding at me to carry on. “I felt a slight change in you. In your mood and I worried that it was something I had done and then my brain started listing all the things that I could do to make things better for you and I, I, I -”
“You spiralled,” Switch finishes for me.
With it out in the open, out loud I feel like shit. Lower than shit. Like a lump of anxieties and uselessness. This is what people used to tell me I was. My dad, my husband.
“Babe, what was happening down there is not on you. Fuck, shit. It’s on me.” He runs a hand down his face, lingering on his beard as he tugs on it a little. “I got some news that pissed me way the fuck off at Church tonight and I needed to get eyes on Kit and on you which is why I came to the gym. And why I wanted to have dinner with y’all.”
I deflate a little, it feels good to know that it wasn’t something I did. Until the words filter through my mind. Church.
“Oh, um, this news, I’m guessing it's not…good.”
He turns to look at me, his perfect teeth chewing at the edge of his lip as if he’s not sure what, if anything, to say. “Fuck. I asked you to tell me the truth, and it’s only right for me to offer the same.” He angles his body so that he can take both of my hands in his, squeezing gently. The pressure tells me that whatever he is about to say is going to be bad. “Before Travis died he, fuck,” he takes a deep breath, “he let his boss sell Kit to some rich fucker.” He says quickly on the breath he lets out.
I blink once, twice, as his words start to filter their way through my mind but I can’t quite comprehend what’s happening. It’s like I’ve somehow been dropped into a cold pooland I don’t know which way is up as the cold steals my breath and I scramble to find air.
“Ah shit, Joy, baby, I need you to find five things you can see. Tell me what they are.” Switch’s firm voice breaks through the haze I’m trapped in.
My head spins wildly as I try to focus on things I can see, why can’t I see? I can’t focus enough to see anything.
