Haze - By Andrea Wolfe Page 0,36

head. I curiously checked my fingers after rubbing the point of impact. They were blood-free. I sighed a monumental sigh of relief, one of the biggest ever in my life.

"Seriously, are you okay?" An older man was lowered to his knee, staring into my eyes. I was magically sitting up now, the chair presumably lifted by this kind stranger. By his professional demeanor, I assumed he was a doctor.

"Yeah, yeah," I said mechanically. "Where the hell did he go?" I noticed what sounded like a commotion, but hadn't put two and two together.

"That guy pulled him outside. I guess they're fighting or something." The people that had come to my rescue were now watching the front window like it was the season finale of American Idol. "You need to relax for a second," he said after noticing I was about to leap from my seat, fueled by adrenaline.

Guy? Fighting? I turned, my eyes immediately gravitating toward the bright light of the outdoors—and just in time to see a fist connect with Timothy's stomach. He keeled over and then fell against the solid glass of the coffee shop before tumbling to the ground.

"Don't ever go near her again or I'm calling the police!" That familiar voice warmed me instantly like that first sip of coffee on a winter morning. Stupidly relevant, especially since I was in a coffee shop.

Yeah, it was Jack, and I had no idea what he was doing here. Had he followed me here? Shown up at the perfect moment like my own knight in shining armor? I watched him run in front of the building until he was at the door again. The world seemed to skip like a scratched DVD and suddenly he was right there in front of me.

"Effie! I'm so sorry," he said, his voice exasperated and desperate.

"For what?" I leaned into his hug, allowing his arms to wrap tightly around me. It was exactly what I needed. All eyes were on us—and that felt just fine. Business had ceased for several minutes, but things were slowly easing back into normality. At least there was something vaguely resembling a happy ending

"I encouraged you to meet that psychopath. God, what was I thinking?"

"He wasn't a psychopath before." It was the truth. "But he's was crazy now, that's for sure."

Jack reached over and shook the older gentleman's hand. "Thanks for keeping an eye on her," he said. "Are you a doctor or something? Is she hurt?"

"I'm fine, Jack," I blurted out.

"I'm retired," the man said. "But I was a doctor." He smiled warmly. "There's no blood, and she seems to be coming back to her senses just fine. The rug cushioned her fall for sure. If she has trouble concentrating or has any serious headaches within the next couple of days, take her straight to a hospital."

"I told you I was fine." I said it again as if I was defending myself from another one of Timothy's verbal attacks.

"I'll take her immediately if anything changes. Thanks again, sir."

The man nodded and then stood up, returning to a table with what looked like his family. It made me wonder if Jack and I would ever have a family like that. Maybe I was getting ahead of myself, but in the aftermath of trauma, it felt okay.

Jack kissed my cheek repeatedly, running his fingers through my hair as he tried to cope with what was left of the situation. "It's not your fault," I said. "You saved me anyhow. He probably would have punched me or something."

"Thankfully, he's not a good fighter," Jack remarked. "I would have been done for if he happened to be one of those MMA guys. You just can't tell sometimes."

I started giggling uncontrollably. "Has someone surprised you with that before?"

He gave me a quizzical look. "Well, no. I just know MMA is popular, and so it would follow that there are probably fighters wandering around somewhere."

"Definitely not Timothy. You should see how afraid he is of centipedes. He almost started crying one time when one fell into the shower."

"I hate those things," Jack said. He shook his head and cringed. "Give me the MMA guy any day."

"But they eat pests!" I wasn't sure why I was defending the honor of centipedes, but it was fun. "Maybe you should go hang out with Timothy. You guys sound like you've actually got a lot in common." My giggles continued to erupt, perhaps because it was actually that funny—or I was just hysterical. Probably the latter.

"Whatever