Tangled Desires (Wattle Creek #3)

31

Just Us - James Arthur

T he girls are crowded around me as soon as I step back into the house, faces taut with worry.

“What happened out there?” Liv whispers, glancing out the window like Gary might storm back in.

I take a steadying breath, trying to collect my scattered thoughts. “It’s his dad. He… He showed up, talking all kinds of shit to Harrison and Michael. He’s—he’s so vile.”

The girls exchange a glance, their shock and disgust mirroring my own. I can’t even repeat half of what Gary said. The words hang in the air like a bad taste. We move quietly to the bedroom, peering through the window. I watch Gary stumble away, hands raised in some pathetic half-assed surrender. Relief should feel like a weight lifted, but it doesn’t. The pit in my stomach only grows heavier. This—this mess—is going to fuck with Harrison. He’ll push it all down, wear that mask of his, pretending it doesn’t matter. And that scares the hell out of me.

“Are you okay?” Amelia asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m not the one you should be worrying about.”

The door opens, and the boys are back. Harrison and Michael hang back outside, still with their mum and Joe. Amelia moves toward Bradley instinctively. “We should get going, give them some time to wind down after that.” Bradley tilts his head toward the door. “Come on, Liv, I’ll take you home.”

The hugs come fast, squeezing the air out of me. Soft goodbyes, whispers of comfort. When Brad presses a kiss to my forehead, his lips are warm, but it’s his words that make the ground under me shift. “He’s going to need you now more than ever.” I nod, throat tight, barely able to breathe. He’s right, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

When they leave, the house falls quieter. It’s just Isla and me now. She rubs my arm gently. “If anyone can help him through this, it’s you. He needs you, Imogen. Don’t doubt that.”

I open my mouth, but no words come out. Before I can respond, the door creaks open. Xavier’s head pokes in. “Isla, come on. We’re heading out.” He glances at me, a brief nod.

Isla hugs me tight, her words soft in my ear. “Call me. If you need anything—both of you.” And just like that, it’s just me. The tension in the air is suffocating, like the whole house is holding its breath. Outside, muffled voices cut through the silence—Harrison and Michael, arguing, their tones sharp and low, snapping at each other.

I can’t make out the words, but I don’t need to. Something is about to break, and I’m not sure if it’s them or me. I need to do something. Anything to distract from the noise in my head. My hands move on their own, grabbing empty bottles, plastic cups, anything left from the night. I toss them into the bin, picking up every stray can like it’ll somehow make the chaos outside stop. The yard looks decent enough, but I keep searching, bending down, finding something else to tidy.

It’s useless, but it’s all I can do to keep moving.

Dinner plates. I grab them, mindlessly rinsing them off, loading the dishwasher. But the tightness in my chest won’t ease. Every movement feels mechanical, disconnected, like I’m watching myself from somewhere far away. The door creaks open. Harrison steps in, his presence filling the room like a storm, raw and raging. His face is unreadable, the muscle in his jaw twitching.

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t even look at me. Just walks right past, headed straight for the back door.

My heart stutters. I close my eyes for a second, gripping the edge of the sink, trying to steady myself. This is going to break him; I know it. And I’m not about to let that happen.

I find Harrison outside, hunched over in one of the old wooden chairs, his body crumpled. His head hangs low, and I don’t need to ask to know it’s all too much. I sit beside him, close enough to feel the tension rolling off him in waves, but I don’t speak. Just… stay. His shoulders tremble slightly, and when his voice finally comes, it’s rough, barely there.

“I just can’t catch a break.” His words crack open something inside me, but I keep my gaze steady, letting him carry on. A shudder shakes through him. “It’ll never… Stop.”

His head hangs lower, fists clenched tight in his lap. I watch the way his knuckles turn white, the way his breath catches.

“It will. Eventually.” The words feel hollow in my mouth, but I say them, anyway. Maybe if I keep saying them, I’ll believe them. His eyes flick up, green and wild, the lines around his face sharp with strain. His jaw is locked tight, mouth a thin line. He pulls off his hat, rakes a hand through his hair, then shoves it back on, backward.

“He’s ruined everything.” Harrison’s voice breaks, and I can hear the raw pain in every syllable. “Everything was going so well... I thought I could move past it. Dr. Lowes said I could.” The name hits like a surprise shot of cold air— Dr. Lowes. He actually saw her. After all this time, he’s trying, really trying, and it’s tearing him apart.

“He’s mixed himself up with bad people, Immy. Real bad. He owes them money, and the cunt had the nerve to ask me for it.” The words are venom, spat out with more force than I expect. I reach over, my hand resting on his arm.

“Harrison, we’ll figure it out. You’ll get through this.” But my voice isn’t as certain as I want it to be.

A bitter laugh escapes him. “No, Imogen. You don’t get it. These people aren’t just ‘bad.’ They’re ruthless. Real fucking criminals. They’ll come after him, and they’ll come for their money. And I can’t have you caught up in this. Not you. Not our baby.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

His eyes darken. “I need to keep you safe. I won’t let his mess come back to you.”

“No, Harrison. Tell me what you’re not saying.”

His jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look at me. “You need to leave, Imogen. You can’t stay here with me. It’s not safe here anymore.”

The air is suddenly thicker, suffocating. My breath stalls, throat tight. I blink, trying to clear the fog, but it doesn’t lift. “N-no,” I stammer. “I’m not fucking going anywhere.”

He stands up sharply, shoulders tight with tension. “Don’t you see, Midge? It’ll never work. I’m fucking broken. How did I ever think I’d be well enough to raise a kid, let alone be in a relationship? I’ve been mentally fucked for weeks, and now this? I can’t keep doing this to you.”

His words tear at me. And when I look at him, really look at him, I see it—the fight he’s losing in his eyes, the way he’s drowning in everything he can’t say. And I refuse to let him push me away.

I don’t move. My feet dig into the ground, rooted to the spot. “No.”

“What do you mean no, Imogen?”

“You don’t get to decide this for me. No one does.” I take a slow step forward. My heart hammers against my ribs. “I’ve always made my own choices. You know why?” I’m closer now, so close we’re practically sharing the same breathing space. “Because I had to. My dad raised me that way. My mother walked out and left me to figure it out on my own. My dad?” I press in, a fire burning in my chest. “He taught me how to fight. How to stand up when everything’s falling apart. How to hold my ground. So don’t you fucking dare tell me what I can or can’t do.”

I take a deep breath. “I’m staying, Harrison. I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever. You don’t get to push me away.”

“You don’t understand, Immy. He’ll come back.” He shakes his head. “He’ll find a way to fuck with me, and now that he knows you’re mine, that you’re pregnant with our baby, he’ll use that against us, Imogen. He’s a manipulative cunt. It’s what he does.”

Something about the way he says ‘mine’ pulse race. It’s not possessive. It’s not ownership. It’s something deeper, something raw. The way he says it makes me feel like I’m exactly where I’m meant to be, like I belong with him. And if that’s not a sign of how much I’ve fallen for him, I don’t know what is. His weakness—his fear—is written all over his face. It makes him real. It makes him human. And if that also doesn’t solidify my feelings for him, I’m not sure anything will.

I poke his chest with each word, standing on my tiptoes so our noses almost touch. “I’m. Not. Going. Anywhere.” God, I’m trying to sound all tough, like I’ve got this intimidation thing down. But I know, deep down, there’s no way in hell all six-foot-something of him is going to budge because I can barely keep my balance, let alone make him flinch. Still, I push on.

“You tried to shut me out once, and it didn’t work. Don’t you dare try it again, Harrison Price.” I tell him that, but the truth? I’m already half-freaking out on the inside. What if he actually pushes me away this time? I’m not strong enough for that.

“You say you’re broken? Fine. Then I’m broken, too. So, what do we do? We fix each other.” The words taste like the truth, even as I say them. “That’s what you do for the people you love. You help them. You show up, you make them feel good, you… You don’t let them drown.”

He stands there, silent, his eyes locked on mine, and my patience wears thin. “Say something, Harrison,” I snap.

He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. A small smile tugs at his lips. “You love me?”

Did I say that? Did I actually say that out loud? My pulse quickens, and I look away, my mouth tightening. “Out of everything I just said, that’s all you got?”

“It’s the most important part.”

The breath I’ve been holding escapes in a rush. His hand brushes over my cheek, wiping away a tear, his touch gentle but firm. “You really love me?”

I don’t have to think twice. “Yeah, I do, you big caveman. I love you.”

“I’ve been dying to say it, too, Immy girl, but you beat me to it. I fucking love you,” he growls, his voice rough and desperate. Before I can even process it, his lips crash against mine, bruising, urgent—like he’s trying to shove everything we’ve both been too damn scared to say into this one kiss. It’s fire and need and all the things that’ve been building between us, finally unleashed. This moment?

It’s everything. He’s everything. And there’s nowhere else I’d ever want to be.

The sheets tangle around us, still warm from the heat of our bodies. My fingers trace gentle circles on his chest, moving over the faint scars, marking each one with a soft kiss. “When were you going to tell me you saw Dr. Lowes?”

His chest rises in a sigh. “I wasn’t keeping it from you, I promise. I was going to tell you today, actually, but…” His words trail off. I press closer, nuzzling his shoulder, feeling his warmth soak into me.

“It’s okay. I’m just really happy you did it. That’s a big step, Harrison, and you took it. I’m proud of you.”

“It’s been… hard.” His fingers find a strand of my hair, twirling it gently as he speaks. “She keeps trying to dig into things, things I don’t even know how to talk about. But she’s got me looking at stuff I’ve buried for so long. I still don’t know if it’s gonna change anything, but… I’m trying. I-I think it’s working.”

I plant another kiss on his shoulder. “You don’t have to figure it all out at once. Just letting someone in, that’s already huge, Harrison.”

I lean up suddenly and kiss him, soft but sure. “What was that for?”

“Just because. I meant every word I said outside.”

“I know.”

A sudden thump hits my belly, and I sit up, hand flying to the spot. Holy shit.

“What?” Harrison’s already up, wide-eyed, like I’ve just announced the apocalypse.

I grin, shaking my head. “Relax. The baby just kicked.”

He moves faster than I’ve ever seen, hand hovering. “Where? Let me feel.”

I guide him to the spot, holding my breath as his fingers press gently against my skin. The baby kicks again, and his face lights up, eyes bright, mouth slightly open. Another nudge—stronger this time—and he grins like he’s just won the lottery.

“Did you see that? It’s like they’re answering me!” His hand stays there, tracing slow circles. “Hey there, kiddo. Giving your mum a hard time already?”

Kiddo. My chest tightens. He’s already in deep. So am I.

Another kick. He laughs softly. “Feels like magic,” he mutters, his eyes never leaving my belly.

“It’s weird,” I admit. “Like bubbles popping at first. Now it’s... stronger. Real.”

He nods, completely mesmerized. “Real,” he echoes. Then, with that cheeky grin I know too well, he glances up. “Hey, did you hear that earlier, kid? Your mum loves me. Me. Just an ol’ dirtbag from Wattle Creek.”

I snort, rolling my eyes, but my face is burning. He’s impossible.

“And you know what?” His lips brush against my ear, voice a husky whisper. “I’m going to get her to say it again... and again.” The baby kicks like it’s in on the joke. Figures . Harrison shifts above me, his thigh pressing against mine. The hard length of him is impossible to ignore. I let out a frustrated huff.

“God, are you ever not hard?” I deadpan, pushing at his chest.

“Nope. It’s impossible when I’m around you.”

I shake my head, trying to hold back a smile. It’s impossible when he looks at me like that—like I’m all he wants. His lips find mine, all fierce and consuming. Heat pools low in my belly as his tongue moves against mine, making my body tremble. Pulling back, he trails kisses down my body, his mouth pausing briefly at my breasts before settling just below my stomach. My breath hitches.

That first swipe of his tongue makes me gasp. Slow, deliberate. He knows exactly what he’s doing, and I’m powerless against it. My back arches as he sucks on my clit, drawing a low moan from my throat. He doesn’t stop, the suction intensifying until I’m trembling beneath him.

When he finally pulls away, he sits up, and without a word, lies back, lifting me gently until I’m straddling his waist. His cock rests against his lower abdomen. I shift, feeling awkward, my thighs trembling with uncertainty.

His eyes catch mine. “What’s that face for?”

Great. He is too observant. “Nothing. I just…” I try to adjust, but I can’t seem to find the right spot.

“Now’s not the time to lie to me, sugar. What’s on your mind? Do you want to stop?”

“No. God, no.” I glance down, gesturing to my stomach. “I just feel… heavy. And I don’t feel sexy doing this anymore.” My voice wavers, and the vulnerability hits like a punch to the gut. My body feels foreign, like I don’t quite belong in it anymore.

“Imogen, baby girl, don’t ever say that to me again,” he murmurs, astonished.

“But—”

“No buts, sugar. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. The fact that my child is growing inside you? Right now? It makes me more obsessed with you than I ever thought possible.”

A blush creeps up my neck, heat flooding my cheeks. His words hit deeper than they should, unraveling something in me. He runs a hand down my side, across my belly.

“I’m going to worship this body the way it deserves. Let me.”

All I can do is nod.

“Now,” he drawls, eyes dark and full of intent, “you’re going to sit on my cock, sugar, and ride me until you come—with my name on your lips.”

Fuck. My breath hitches, a whimper escaping before I can stop it. Wetness slicks between my thighs, and I lift myself, guiding him to my entrance. Slowly, I sink down, taking him inch by inch. His groan rumbles through his chest, eyes never leaving mine. I place my hands on his chest, grounding myself as I begin to move, rising and falling in a rhythm that steals my breath.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, voice rough.

“Say what?” I pant, barely holding it together.

He grips my hips, lifting me like I weigh nothing and sliding his cock out. “Say you love me, Immy-girl. Say you’re mine.”

Heat floods me. I can’t hold back anymore. “I’m yours. I love you.”

At my words, he thrusts up, filling me completely. We groan in unison, the connection raw, consuming. “Now put your hands on the headboard, so I can fuck my girl.”

I obey, gripping the frame as he takes over, thrusting slowly at first—deliberate, deep. Each movement pulls a gasp from me, the pleasure overwhelming.

“Every inch of you,” he rasps, pounding harder, his hips slapping against mine. “You’re mine, Immy. Always.” I shudder, his praise unraveling me. The pressure builds, white-hot and all-consuming.

“Say it again,” he growls, voice rough as he drives into me, each thrust relentless.

“You’re fucking ridiculous,” I gasp.

“And you’re fucking perfect.”

That’s all it takes. The world shatters around me, pleasure crashing through in waves. My body tightens as I ride him through it, clinging to him, barely holding myself together.

“H-Harrison… Oh, God… F-fuck.”

“That’s it, sugar,” his hands grip my hips tighter, guiding my movements as I tremble above him. “Take what you need. This perfect cunt was made for me.”

I move faster, chasing every last pulse of pleasure. With a deep, shuddering groan, he thrusts up one last time, burying himself as deep as he can. His body tenses beneath me, every muscle taut as he lets go, lost in his release. We collapse together, me draped over him, his hands still holding me like I might slip away.

The silence that follows is warm, heavy, and perfect.