Restraint is Useless Here

Chapter Thirteen

"Hey guys?" Jimmy's voice called from the bathroom. "If I didn't wash my hands after chopping those jalapeños, would that be a reasonable explanation as to why my penis is on fire right now?"

Anna looked up from chopping cilantro to exchange glances with Maria and Val across the oversized kitchen island. They all burst into laughter. Wincing slightly, Anna sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. It had been about 2 weeks since she'd gotten the stitches in her eyebrow and lip, but still felt a sharp tug whenever she smiled—or made any facial expression whatsoever.

"Dinner is in 30 minutes, Reverendo," Maria shook her head as she finished sprinkling cheese on top of the enchiladas. "And you think now is the best time to play Diablo Dick?"

The toilet flushed and Jimmy walked out, zipping up the fly of his jeans. "I'll have you know," he retorted with a finger pointed toward the bathroom. "There was no dick play going on in there. Only dick business. Nature doesn't wait."

As he plucked a tortilla chip from the bowl on the granite countertop, he leaned down and rested his chin on Anna's shoulder. Between crunches he whispered, "Did you hear? We just talked about my penis. She loves me, Annie. She does. I can feel it."

As Maria bent over to preheat the oven, he fanned himself dramatically when the black-haired beauty's shirt rode up, exposing her lower back.

"Stop looking at my ass, Jimmy," Maria scolded, but there was a smile in her voice.

Anna threw a sprig of cilantro at Jimmy's face before he wrapped his arms around her shoulders. He hugged her to his chest—tightly, but gently. She let herself lean into him for a moment and closed her eyes; she was so tired.

Since the incident, Jimmy had treated Anna like a shattered porcelain doll, freshly glued back together. Through the emergency room visit, the stitching up of her skin, and the first couple of nights she spent at Matt and Val's house, Val had rarely left her side—and neither had Jimmy. Somewhere along the line, he'd become somewhat of a stronghold for her.

The nights were long and restless. Panic often stole her breath right on the brink of sleep. Phantom hands squeezed her neck, and she'd bolt upright, gulping in air and placing two fingers over her carotid to make sure she still had a pulse.

Heart pumping.
Chest rising and falling.
Oxygen perfusing.
She was still here.

Insomnia paired with idleness did nothing to help the anxiety; she needed to busy herself. On one of the longer, more sleepless nights when Jimmy had fallen asleep on the couch, he'd awoken to Anna playing Matt's PlayStation and, from then on, midnight hangs had become a staple for them. Though midnight gaming quickly transitioned to midnight grocery runs, as Anna much preferred baking and Jimmy was somewhat of a sore loser.

During one of their baking marathons, Jimmy broke down and confessed to the shame spiral he suffered, being that he provided Jack the cocaine that night at Diamond. He shouldered much of the blame for Anna's assault and promised to never touch the powder again. Of course, she waved off his apologies insistently. Jack's problem stemmed far deeper than one bender with Jimmy.

Still, that didn't stop him from bringing her anti-inflammatories every 6 hours as ordered.
And bringing her chocolate malts every day.
And insisting on spoon feeding her since straws were a no-no in the first week.
She refused the spoonfeeds, but definitely wasn't going to turn down the malts.

He'd even driven her to campus to discuss delaying her final exam. Showing the damage to her face helped plead her case, as did seeing Jimmy's—her rigid nursing professor was a apparently a rabid metal fan. It only earned her a B-minus, but she'd live to see her final semester in the fall.