Chapter Fourteen #2
As the confusion seeps away, a new emotion takes hold.
One so strong, it overpowers the dull ache in all of my limbs.
Harper blinks down at me, her green eyes filled with concern.
She’s wearing pale blue pajamas with tiny snowflakes.
Her hair’s a mess, tied up in a knot that doesn’t quite hold.
There’s a smudge of icing on her wrist, powder on her hands, and her socks don’t match.
I’ve never seen anything so innocently beautiful, so far removed from the nightmare that plagues me.
I’m carrying around baggage of bloodshed and a misfired gun I had no business using.
My criminal record is like a noose that never quite loosens, but Harper?
She’s a survivor. A phoenix born from the ashes of her grief, who looks upon my tainted soul as if I’m worthy of her affection.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out and drag her into my lap, crushing her into my arms. She gasps against my chest, and after a second, locks her own arms around my waist. After the endless hours of being cold, of feeling my pulse slow and my breath frost in the air, her heat is a shock to my system.
I tremble from the force of withholding everything I want to say, the realizations I’ve come to after fighting them for so long.
For a heartbeat, the house disappears. No kitchen, no gingerbread houses, no rival standing three feet away. Just the girl I’ve been running from and running toward at the same time. She smells like buttercream and woodsmoke, and she feels like home.
Shifting slightly, Harper places her palms against my ribs. “Clay,” she says softly. “You’re shaking. Let’s get you upstairs.” I loosen my hold just enough to see her face. Her cheeks are flushed pink, her eyes bright with something I can’t name.
Swallowing past the lump lodged in my throat, I nod and try to stand again. Harper shifts aside, her steady gaze keeping me centered. Her hands linger at my elbows, gently easing me upright.
It’s in that moment, as my feet find some stability and the multitude of blankets fall away from my lap, I discover I am completely naked.
Jerking to grab the last blanket to fall, I cover myself just in time, a simmer of heat returning to my cheeks.
Harper snorts in that cute way she doesn’t realize, helping me to tuck the edges of the blanket around my waist before leading the way to the staircase.
Rhys stays two steps behind, his scowl a permanent feature on his face. The cocky asshole I’m used to isn’t present, leading me to believe I’ve interrupted something. I can’t help but grin a little at that.
Breaching the landing, I pause to take in my new surroundings.
The air is cleaner somehow, carrying that faint pine scent that clings to every corner of this place.
Sunlight spills through the wide hallway windows, turning the wooden floors honey-gold, and for a second, I forget that I arrived half-dead on the doorstep.
Harper’s steps are light, her socked feet making no sound on the boards as she leads me past half-open doors, one to a guest room with crumpled sheets, another that is a study.
The whole house feels lived-in already, in that effortless way she has of softening a space just by being in it.
There’s a garland trailing the banister, little fairy lights twined through it, blinking in slow rhythm.
We reach the master suite, and I stop so suddenly, Rhys’ shoulder crashes into mine.
Have they left this room for me? It’s bigger than the entire studio apartment I’ve left behind.
The wood theme continues, pine furniture blending into the cladding and floors.
A bed sits dead center, its headboard carved from dark oak and piled high with cushions in neutral tones.
At the far side of the room, the bathroom is visible through a glass divider.
Harper crosses the threshold and points her finger in a bossy way I kinda like.
“Sit on the edge of the tub. I’ll get the water running.”
The freestanding bathtub faces the panoramic windows that stretch from floor to ceiling, revealing a landscape painted in frost and gold. The dense tree line breaks, revealing rolling fields speckled with white, and in the distance, the faint shimmer of a frozen lake catching the morning sun.
Steam starts to curl up from the tub as Harper tests the water with her wrist. She adjusts the faucet slightly, her concentration meticulous.
I catch myself staring, not just because she’s beautiful, but because she’s real.
She’s warmth and movement and light, while everything inside me still feels numb and heavy.
I sink down on the tiled ledge beside the bath, the porcelain cold beneath my skin, and stare out the window.
For the first time in what feels like years, I allow myself to just look.
The snow falls softly now, in lazy spirals that melt the moment they hit the glass.
There’s peace here, something I haven’t known since I was a kid.
My thoughts drift back to the alleyway, the gun in my hand, Antonio’s blank eyes.
Even now, the image clings to the edges of my mind like smoke.
The kind of memory that follows you no matter how far you try to run.
I rub at my wrists, trying to scrub the sensation of cold metal from my palms. Harper glances over her shoulder, brow furrowed slightly.
“You’re still trembling,” she frowns. “You need to get in before your body temperature drops again.” I allow myself to smile, just slightly. I’ll never know what I’ve done to deserve Harper’s concern, but I’m not as quick to brush it off anymore.
“I’m sorry I was late,” I say, rubbing a hand over my nape. It feels exposed without a beanie pulled down low. “I went to visit my mom and got swept into a festive bingo session.” It’s mostly the truth.
I can’t say the receptionist was happy to see me again, and upon seeing my mom in the main hall, I welcomed myself to join her game.
I’d hoped this mystery cousin I don’t have would show up, or my mom might have a moment of clarity slip through.
But neither happened, as she was having a bad day.
I might as well have not bothered, but my conscience knows I went.
That I saw her closer to Christmas than I have in years.
Harper turns back to the tub, shutting off the faucet.
The water swirls, a perfect balance of steam and calm.
“It’s ready,” she says gently. “Jump in. I’ll grab some dry clothes in a minute.
” I hesitate, clutching the blanket around my waist. The room’s quiet except for the soft hiss of cooling pipes and the faint creak of Rhys pacing the hallway.
I glance toward the door, watching him turn and stride back, scowling at me.
I’m taking Harper away from him, and I’m not mad about it.
So I let the blanket fall and step into the water.
It’s hot enough to sting at first, but I sink down anyway, groaning as the warmth seeps into my frozen bones.
My fingers twitch as blood starts to flow properly again, my heartbeat finally finding rhythm in my chest. Harper kneels beside the tub, her reflection blurred in the glass behind.
“Better?” she asks. I nod, eyes half-closed, watching the condensation bead and slide down the windowpane.
“Feels like my body’s remembering what it means to be alive.” She lets out a small laugh.
“Good. Let’s try to keep it that way.”
I study her profile as she sits back on her heels, the light catching the faint sheen of icing still dusted on her face.
There’s something achingly human about her, how she carries both exhaustion and grace, worry and affection, all at once.
Reaching for a towel, she folds it neatly over the side of the tub, busying herself.
“You should stay in there for fifteen minutes. Any longer and your blood pressure might drop too fast. You’re still recovering.”
“Yes, doctor.” I smirk faintly. Her lips twitch, fighting a smile.
“Don’t test me. I know exactly how to monitor a pulse.
” Comfort settles in my chest and I sink lower, resting my head on the rim.
Harper stays, and I reckon she’s timing me in her head.
Having her so close is doing frenzied things to my mind, especially when there’s another man beyond the door also aching for her attention.
Yet there’s no rushing her, as she brushes imaginary creases out of the towel.
Before I can stop myself, I reach out, water dripping from my fingers as I catch her wrist lightly. She blinks up at me startled, but doesn’t pull away.
“Thank you,” I murmur. “For taking care of me.” Harper’s green eyes soften, the corners crinkling slightly.
“I’m just glad you’re here.” For a long moment, we just stare at each other, me half-submerged and her kneeling at my side, the world beyond the window nothing but white and quiet. And for the first time in years, the silence doesn’t feel like punishment. It feels like peace.