Farah rubbed her sore, bruised cheek hoping the rouge concealed it from the view of others. From the corner of her eye she saw Jimmy approaching.
She stiffened and grabbed the cold bottle of Bud off the jukebox holding it out to him, "Here Baby."

"I'm gonna beat that son of a bitch." Jimmy said.
He grabbed the beer and shoved his pool stick at her. Out of habit she flinched. Then, out of habit, she composed herself and smiled at him, caresseing his cheek with her hand.

"Don't," He glared at her,"not now."

Yanking the stick from her hand he set the empty beer bottle next to the other seven on top of the jukebox.
"I'm gonna beat that son of bitch." He sneered.
Farah hoped Jimmy would beat that son of a bitch.

I don't know how one would label this emotion. Abusive relationships have a complex dynamic. I guess it's the emotion of never knowing what someone is going to do next. Not quite apprehension or anxiety. Did I pull it off?