Page 33 of After Him, There Was You
“Most men don’t care to have conversations with their sloppy seconds. Isn’t talking to your scraps something most people don’t want to do?” I questioned, attempting to step around Zane. Thankfully, my second attempt was successful, and he let me proceed without interruption. “Jason, I want absolutely nothing to do with you, and if you weren’t the father of my children, I wouldn’t have a word to say to you.”
“You don’t mean that,” Jason countered, looking from me and then up to Zane and then back. “Let’s go in the house so we can talk privately, now!”
Swiftly Jason grabbed my arm and attempted to pull me in the direction of the house we once shared. Before I could blink to process how much force Jason was applying to my arm, Zane was reaching over my head, forcefully sending a closed fists and connecting it to his face.
I felt a gush of wind above me before I heard the cracking, and more than likely the shattering of Jason’s jaw.
“Oh my God!” I called out, covering my mouth because of the shock his reaction caused me. I can’t say Zane wasn’t warranted with his reaction, but I can confirm it caught me off guard.
“Are you okay?” he asked, pulling me into him while eyeing Jason with a death stare as he laid out on the ground, holding his leaking jaw.
“Yes, I’m fine,” I answered with a shaking voice.
“Has he ever put his hands on you before?” Zane quizzed, his eyes searching mine and bouncing around my face as if he was searching my soul for the truth.
“No, never,” I answered honestly.
Over the course of the relationship I had with Jason, we got into verbal disagreements just like any other couple, but it never got close to being physical. If anything, during our marriage, I was the one who would start our disagreements while he would opt to walk out of whatever room we were arguing in, and if it became too heated, he would leave the house altogether.
In one night, Jason had somehow stooped below a level of disrespect I thought he was ever capable of directing toward me.
Gently placing a kiss on my lips, Zane managed to take away some of the panic and rage I was feeling in the moment.
“Unlike you, I have too much to lose by dealing with you the way I should for putting your hand on her, but let that act as your first and only warning. If you ever think about puttinga hand on her again, it won’t fare well for you,” Zane assured, physically stooping down to his level. “If I’m nothing else, I’m a man who protects the people he loves, and I happen to love the woman you were lucky enough to marry. I let her out of my grasp once, but it won’t happen again. I’ll protect her with everything in me. Your best move would be to take everything I said and use it to save yourself.”
Giving his best attempt at mimicking the scene of a cat giving its all to survive in water, Jason fought to get off the ground using the one hand which wasn’t cradling his face. Much like the coward he had proven himself to be, he took steps backward in the direction of his car, never taking his eyes off Zane who was slowly standing up from his kneeling stance.
Slamming his car door shut, I jumped from the brashness and the drama surrounding the interaction. He utilized more force to close the door than necessary, and I was sure the sound echoed up and down the street.
“I had no idea he was going to come by here, Zane,” I stated as Jason reversed out of my driveway and sped down my otherwise quiet residential street.
I was sure one of our inquisitive neighbors was watching the scene unfold from behind their designer windows. One of the many reasons Jason and I decided to purchase the land we’d built our dream home on was because it was on the quieter side of North Brooke Port.
The house sat in between and around residents who did nothing outside of golf, go to brunch, and do their best to keep up with the latest drama the residents of our small, gated community had going on. They were the kind of neighbors who called the cops when they felt like something or someone was out of place.
Most times the concern was appreciated, but sometimes, it was unnecessary like the time they called the cops on mycousin because she drove less than a Mercedes caliber of car. When she asked them why they called, they looked from her to the purple Dodge Charger she had driven to my house in.
With my cousin being from the opposite side of town and the side of family Jason didn’t care for me to associate with, he had no problem asking her to leave when the cops arrived.
Jason preferred for us and our children to stick to functions and holidays held by his family. At the beginning of our marriage, it was something I allowed, but when I noticed how out of place our children would be when we did go around my family, I put my foot down and expressed how I felt about neglecting my relatives. Naturally, he resisted but because of my persistence, he gave in and allowed it.
“Tara, I know you wouldn’t do anything like that. Jason has always been too full of himself for his own good,” he stated, more than likely reflecting back to the days where Jason was fighting to be the star of our high school basketball team.
Jason had always failed in comparison to Zane. From sports to academics, Zane was always a step or a placement ahead. The only thing Jason had that Zane wanted was me, and had I known he wanted me, Jason more than likely would’ve never had me.
If I knew then what I know now.
“Come in so I can give you some ice,” I advised, pointing in the direction of the door. Once he could no longer see Jason’s car, he moved from his cemented place on the street and followed me into the house.
“Coach Simmons?” Jaedan questioned, walking out of the kitchen as we walked through the front door.
“Jaedan, how long have you been in here, and did you look outside?” I asked, silently hoping and praying he didn’t see the debacle which involved his father getting knocked on his foolish ass at the hands of his new basketball coach.
“I just came down to get a glass of water,” he answered, looking in between Zane and me.
I could almost see and hear the wheels in his little mind grinding in overtime to figure out the dynamics between the two people standing in front of him.
At two in the morning on a Sunday, there wasn’t a logical, work-related reason to place Zane at our house.
