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Chapter 167

Nick’s stomach dropped when Jamie burst in, and before either one of them had a chance to react, he knew they were in trouble.

In a matter of seconds, Jamie’s face went white, except for two streaks of red high in his cheeks. The contrast made his blue eyes appear sharper and colder than ever as they bugged out of his head, beneath his severe brows. It was anger like Nick had never seen from him before – and Nick had seen Jamie plenty angry.

“What… in the hell…” Jamie said, speaking in low, measured tones, “… is going on in here?”

His voice could have been mistaken for calm, but Nick knew better; it was merely the calm before the storm. There was pent-up rage behind his words, and he knew it was about to explode, as Jamie’s frosty eyes flickered between Claire and him. They lingered on him, and Nick felt his face getting warm and hot. He knew it couldn’t look good, the fact that he was standing there next to the bed, in a t-shirt and boxers, a mere foot from Claire.

And indeed, the hotter Nick’s cheeks burned, the colder Jamie’s eyes iced over.

“Not what you think,” Claire spoke up in defense of them both. “He was just trying on his Christmas present.”

Nick shifted awkwardly as Jamie’s eyes now moved lower, to his decoratively swathed stump. Thank god he still had the “sock” on, as proof.

“His present? That thing you knitted him? You said that was a hat,” Jamie snarled. “For your head, Carter. How dare you defile my wife’s gift?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Jamie, stop it! You saw; the hat didn’t even fit!” Claire retorted, throwing her hands up. “Stop trying to make this into something it’s not!”

“Something it’s not? Well, what is it, Claire? Cause I’d really like to know,” Jamie shot back, glaring at her now. “You expect me to walk in on my wife and another man in his boxers and not question it? Carter, you think if you found me with Laureen in her underwear, you wouldn’t wonder what the fuck was going on?”

“I just told you what was going on!” Claire yelled, her voice rising above his. “The damn hat was too small, so he found another use for it, and he had to take off his jeans to show me. Big. Deal.”

“Maybe a nice dent would make his head smaller then, huh?” Jamie said this very quickly, and all at once, the ice in his eyes exploded, and before Nick could move – not that he had far to go – Jamie’s fist was colliding with his jaw, catching him right under the chin. As his head thwacked backward, Nick’s whole body was thrown back with the force; he hit the bed and tumbled on over the foot of it, landing hard in a heap on the floor with a thud that surely shook the entire condominium.

It was surely enough to bring Laureen and the rest of Claire’s family running, though Nick wasn’t aware of this at first, for a white-hot burst of pain had erupted in his jaw and traveled like electricity throughout his entire body, making sparks flicker before his eyes. With pain in the forefront, the voices he heard next sounded far away and hazy, but after a few seconds, he could start to pick them out.

“Nick! Nick… are you okay?” It was Laureen, not Claire, Laureen, kneeling over him, her hands light on his back and shoulder.

As he tried to figure out where the pain was coming from, he could hear Claire in the background, her voice high and near-hysterical, screaming, “How could you hit him like that?! It’s Christmas!”

And then Jamie’s response floated over… “He had his goddamn pants off!”

And then another voice, closer and motherly. Claire’s mother. “Nick, honey? Can you talk to us?” Nick opened his eyes and saw Carrie kneeling in front of him. Actually, there were two Carries, floating in and out of one another. He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his vision.

“Shit,” he mumbled, “I’m seein’ double.”

“Did he hit his head? Claire?” Carrie’s voice rose. “Did he hit his head??”

“Jamie hit his head,” Claire snapped bitterly.

“It was a punch! One punch! I didn’t hit him any harder than he’s hit me!”

“You attacked him!!”

“Nick?” Carrie’s voice sharpened, attracting his attention back to her. “Can you see me alright, hon?”

There were still two of her, but he wasn’t too concerned. “Yeah,” he answered, unable to nod because he was still lying on the floor, and his chin felt too stiff to move.

Trying to block out the pain, he focused again on the voices in the background. “Kyle, maybe you and Jamie should take a walk. And make sure Amber keeps Kamden out of here. Claire, you sit down,” he heard Claire’s dad direct, his voice gruff, and though it was perhaps irrational, Nick felt a fresh hot streak of humiliation at the thought of being knocked out on the ground in his boxers, without his leg, in front of Claire’s father. What kind of man was he?

The embarrassment propelled him to move, and he struggled to get up, despite Carrie and Laureen’s protests that he should stay down.

“I’m alright,” he muttered as he sat up, though he swayed with wooziness. The entire room was spinning, so much that he couldn’t focus on any one of the people around him. “Shit, he got me good…”

Though his entire body ached from hitting the floor, his hand went first to his jaw, gingerly holding his chin.

Finally, Carrie’s face, an older, more lined version of Claire’s, came into focus, and he saw that she was staring directly at him, her blue eyes wide with concern. “Is it your jaw? How does it feel? Kris, come here; do you think his jaw might be broken?” Like a typical overprotective mother, she asked too many questions all at once.

Nick didn’t answer because Claire’s father was already coming over to look. He wished he could sink through the floor and disappear.

“Here, son, lemme have a look,” said Kris, kneeling on the floor in front of the spot where Nick was slumped against the bed, and for just a moment, Nick’s embarrassment faded with the realization that he had called him “son.” But it came back in full force as Kris gently moved his hands out of the way and took his chin in his own. They were rough, but dry and cool, the way Nick imagined a dentist’s hands would feel beneath his latex gloves. He braced himself for pain as Kris’s fingers moved in measured increments along his jawline, gingerly pressing inward, feeling the bone. It hurt a little, but thankfully, the worse of the pain seemed to be behind him; it was more an ache now.

“It doesn’t seem to be dislocated; that’s a good sign,” Kris observed. “Can you open and close your mouth?”

Nick tried, and though his jaw felt stiff, like a hinge that needed to be oiled, he managed. Kris put his hands on his cheeks, guiding his jaw open and closed again. “Yeah, I don’t think you’ve got a broken jaw. Normally if that’s the case, it’s hard to close your mouth and the teeth don’t align. Yours look okay. I think you’re just going to have some swelling and stiffness and one hell of a bruise.”

Nick nodded slightly, avoiding his gaze, too mortified by the whole situation to look him in the eye. Still, he was grateful, and so he mumbled a, “Thanks.”

“We should probably get you some ice for that, though. Keep the swelling down,” Kris advised, and Carrie immediately jumped up.

“I’ll get an ice pack ready! Sit tight.” Watching her scurry out of the room, Nick couldn’t help but smile a little, though it hurt. He could see Claire in her movements and thought that Claire would be just as good of a mother.

Mother hen in the making, Claire called down from the bed, “Hey, Nick, do you want to move up here? Maybe lie down? It’d be more comfortable than the floor.”

The wooziness had faded, leaving nothing but stiffness in its wake, and Nick had to agree that it would feel good to lie on something soft. The floor was carpeted, but as he’d learned, it didn’t provide much of a cushion. “Okay, sure,” he agreed. He slowly bent his knee, planting his good foot firmly on the floor in preparation of boosting himself off the floor, but his arms shook so much as he tried to push himself up that he quickly sank back down again, exhaling in frustration.

“Here, Nick,” Laureen said quickly, jumping to his side. She grabbed him under one arm, and Kris grabbed him under the other, and together, they helped pull him up. Nick felt more humiliated than ever as the two of them basically lifted him to a standing position.

“I’ve got it from here. Thanks,” he mumbled, sitting down on the foot of the bed and slowly scooting himself backwards, ignoring the dizziness that had returned. Maybe his head had collided with the floor when he’d landed? He couldn’t really remember; it had happened too fast.

Claire was sitting on the edge of the bed again, much the same way she had been when Jamie had come in. She twisted around to look at Nick, her face apologetic. “I can’t believe he did that,” she said, shaking her head.

Nick shrugged, wanting to play it off. “It’s not like it hasn’t happened before. I’ve hit him too,” he pointed out, noticing, out of the corner of his eye, the surprised looks Kris and Laureen both gave him.

“I know, but… that was mutual. He just knocked you off the bed with no warning, no reason, except… well, there was no reason; if he would just listen and trust me!” she ranted, her face reddening with frustration.

Nick could find nothing to say in response to her. He stared miserably down at the remnant of his left leg, which looked ridiculous in the green- and red-striped garment Claire had knitted. He reached down, wanting to pull the stupid thing off, but then he thought of the ugly stump beneath it, with its long, raised scar, and he held back, preferring to keep it hidden. Cheeks still blazing, he wished he could just pull on his leg and go, get away from this family whose Christmas he had interrupted.

But then Carrie returned with his ice pack, wrapped in a soft towel to keep it from getting too cold or too hard, and he knew he couldn’t leave just yet. He thanked her and dutifully held the bag of ice against his jaw, and he had to admit, it did feel good. Embarrassed as he was by the entire situation, he hadn’t had such TLC in a long time, and he was grateful to be among people who cared for him and didn’t seem to judge. Neither of Claire’s parents had even asked what exactly had happened, or why exactly he was wearing no pants and no leg. Laureen hadn’t even asked, though she was no doubt wondering.

Everyone was silent for a few seconds, no one knowing what to say. Claire’s parents exchanged awkward looks, while Laureen just looked down, and Claire seemed to glare straight through the closed door. Nick felt a small swelling of triumph over the way she was seething at Jamie, but it was quickly quashed by guilt. After all, it was Christmas; he shouldn’t be glad that Claire was furious at her husband.

Then again, it was all Jamie’s fault. He was showing his true colors more and more, in front of her and her family.

Behind the ice pack, Nick allowed himself a tiny smile of satisfaction.

Just as he did, Claire looked over, and he quickly tried to sober his face. She didn’t seem to notice though. “How’s your jaw feel?” she asked.

“Better. This is helping,” he replied. “Thanks, Carrie.”

“Oh, sure, hon. I’m glad it’s feeling better.” Claire’s mother smiled briefly, but her eyes continued to look troubled. “It looks like it would hurt a lot. I just can’t believe Jamie would…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

Her words seemed to rile Claire up again. “I can’t believe him either. I don’t care what he thought was going on; he didn’t even stop to let me explain! And like I said, there was nothing going on!”

Laureen glanced up and then back down again. Kris cleared his throat, and Nick’s stomach clenched, fearing some kind of lecture about what it might have looked like and how they shouldn’t have put themselves in such a situation to begin with. He wasn’t sure why, but although Claire’s dad had always seemed kind, he found the man slightly intimidating. Maybe it was because of the lecture he’d once given Nick about “stepping out of line” with his daughter, shortly before Claire had moved in with him, or maybe it was simply because of his size. In any case, Nick’s stomach clenched.

But Kris didn’t seem to care at all about Claire and Nick. He was more concerned about Jamie.

“Claire, I just need to know,” he began gravely. “Has he raised a hand like that to you? Or ever threatened to?” His voice was very calm, almost too calm, and Nick could practically see the fury shielded behind his eyes, ready to come out if Claire answered yes, if it turned out that Jamie had “stepped out of line” with his daughter. In that case, “stepping out of line” would have been putting it lightly.

Nick watched Claire closely. He couldn’t imagine that Jamie had ever struck her; Claire would never stand for such a thing. She had tolerated him being an asshole for this long, but she was too strong to become one of those battered wives, afraid to leave her abusive husband. He felt confident of that, but still, he watched her, waiting for her response.

Thankfully, she looked shocked at the mere idea. “No, no, of course not,” she answered quickly. “He would never hit me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him hit anyone, except Nick…” She shot Nick a sidelong glance, offering a crooked smile.

Kris wasn’t smiling at all. “Still,” he said, shaking his head, “I don’t like this. He’s acting like a damn kid. A real man doesn’t haul off and punch someone just because he doesn’t like him, or because he’s upset. He’s got to grow up and start acting like a husband and a father. You don’t need this kind of stress.”

Claire nodded. “I know, Dad. Believe me, I know. I can’t even look at him right now, I’m so mad. Nick didn’t do anything; he attacked him for no reason.”

Nick felt guilty that she was so upset on his behalf. “Well, it wasn’t like he tried to knife me or something, Claire. It’s not that big of a deal; I’m fine.”

“He still hit you hard enough to throw you over the bed. He could have broken your jaw,” Claire argued. “Don’t make excuses for him, Nick, because there is no excuse for that. There’s no excuse for any of the crap he’s pulled. I’m sick of it, all of it. Like my dad says, he needs to grow up and be a man.”

It was wonderful to hear her say that, but still, Nick felt awkward. He didn’t really belong here, in the midst of this conversation. Claire should be saying these things to Jamie, not ranting them to him behind closed doors.

Looking over at her, he nodded and said, “You’re right. But you need to talk to him… not me. I feel like I’m just causing trouble here; I should go. Laureen…?”

“Yeah, we should go,” Laureen agreed quickly. She looked almost relieved, and Nick didn’t blame her, but then Claire stopped them.

“No, wait, you guys, don’t go. I don’t want this to ruin our Christmas. You’re not the ones who need to leave.” Pausing, Claire sighed deeply. “I want Jamie to leave.”

Her parents exchanged looks again; so did Nick and Laureen. But no one protested.

“I’ll tell him to pack his stuff and find a hotel,” Kris volunteered bluntly, starting for the door.

“No, Dad, stop,” Claire said quickly, causing her father to pause. “He’s my husband. I need to talk to him.”

She got up from the bed slowly, passing her father on the way to the door. He put his hand on her shoulder briefly and stood back as she opened the door and slipped out of the room, closing it behind her.

Inside the room, nobody spoke. But soon they could hear muffled voices outside in the hallway, drifting under the door.

“I can’t take any more of this shit,” Claire’s voice wavered. “You don’t trust me; you hit my friend in the condo he bought for us, where he is supposed to be our guest. I hate being around you when you act like that, and I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t trust me, who won’t even give me the benefit of the doubt. I can’t, Jamie. I can’t. It’s too much drama, too much stress, and it’s not good for the babies.”

Then Jamie’s voice came, sullen and apologetic. “I know… I’m sorry for making you upset.”

“If you’re really sorry, you’ll grow up and start acting like a man. You’ll be there for me when I need you, and you won’t harass my friends,” Claire said firmly. “But until you do, I can’t be around you anymore.”

“What are you saying??” Jamie’s voice rose. “God, I’m sorry, Claire; I overreacted, alright? Temper got the best of me. It won’t happen again, I promise. I’ll apologize to Carter if that’s what you want.”

“That’s not what I want,” she replied. “I don’t want your meaningless apologies or empty promises. I want you to leave this condo.”

“Oh, Claire, come on! Don’t do that,” Jamie shouted, his voice forceful and angry.

For as outraged as he sounded, she seemed almost unnaturally calm. “I’m serious. Get your things and go.”

“Where do you expect me to go?? Back to Des Moines? Is that what you want?”

“I don’t care, Jamie. Get a hotel… go to your brother’s… or fly back to Des Moines early. I don’t care. I just know that I need some time away from you.”

“Time away? Jesus, Claire, you’ve had plenty of time away from me now that you’re conveniently stuck here.”

“And I guess it’s for the best, isn’t it?” Claire replied serenely. “Now go.”

Inside the bedroom, Kris moved closer to the door, as if ready to throw it open and collar Jamie if he refused again. But to the relief of all who were eavesdropping inside, Jamie seemed to finally surrender, for the voices stopped, and within a matter of seconds, they heard the unmistakable sound of a door slamming.

Moments later, Claire came quietly back in, her cheeks very pink, lips rather white. She returned to her spot next to Nick on the bed and didn’t speak. For a few minutes, no one did. They just listened, the awkward silence broken only by the distant thumps and thuds of someone packing quickly and angrily in a room down the hall.

Fifteen minutes later, Claire stood at the window, looking out over the parking lot, as Jamie drove away.

***