18. Harper
EIGHTEEN
Harper
Monday, March 2
6:54 AM
The morning light filters through the edges of the blackout curtains, soft and golden, casting faint shadows across the room. I blink slowly, disoriented for a moment until the scent of him—clean, musky, unmistakably Jonah—brings me back.
I shift slightly, careful not to wake him, and glance over. He’s lying on his back, one arm bent behind his head, the other resting on the rumpled sheets. His dark, shaggy hair is a mess, curling slightly at the ends, and there’s a shadow of stubble across his jawline that makes him look both rugged and relaxed.
Even with his eyes closed, I can see them in my mind—bright, piercing blue, a contrast so sharp against his dark hair and strong features that it feels almost unfair. That contradiction suits him, though, like he’s built to keep people guessing. It’s unsettling and magnetic all at once, much like Jonah himself.
My gaze drifts lower, to the tattoos that cover his chest and arms—black and gray ink, intricate and bold. They weren’t there two years ago, and the sight of them stirs something in me. A mix of curiosity and longing to know what else he keeps hidden under his charming mask and well-put together white doctor's coat.
It’s a dangerous question, one that tightens my chest the longer I let it linger.
I shouldn’t still be lying here, tangled in his sheets, with his aura lingering in the air. Every breath reminds me of last night—the heat, the hunger, the way we completely gave in. It was reckless, impulsive—exactly the kind of thing I’ve sworn to avoid, especially with Jonah. And now, as the adrenaline fades, I can’t stop wondering if I’ve made a mistake I can’t take back.
My mind spirals, thoughts colliding in a way that makes it hard to focus. Last night was… Jesus, it was incredible. Raw. Consuming. But was it anything more than a moment fueled by adrenaline and Mason’s voice in my head telling me to take a leap?
There is no denying it was completely amazing. I'm just not one to give into carnal pleasures without thinking it through. I didn't think this through.
I glance at Jonah again, his full lips parted slightly, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He looks so calm, so unburdened. And here I am, beside him, my pulse ticking faster with every second.
What are we doing?
I sought him out, intending to talk about this, whatever this is. We both admitted we wanted each other, but that was the extent of things. I'm not even sure the two of us are capable of going deeper than that. Our relationship has always been superficial.
Want is primal, instinctual—it doesn’t mean there’s something real between us, beyond a friendship. And what happens now? My fear is nothing, and I'm left with the same hollowness I felt the last time we ended up in this bed together.
The familiar tug of doubt creeps in. A voice in the back of my head whispers that I’ve made a mistake, that I’ve let my guard down when I should’ve been holding it firm. I try to focus on the steady sound of Jonah’s breathing, hoping it will quiet the unease building inside me, but it only makes the contrast sharper—his peace against my storm.
I glance at Jonah one last time, the sheets pooling low on his waist, his dark hair falling in messy waves across his forehead. My chest tightens, the weight of the moment pressing harder with each passing second.
This isn’t me. I don’t linger. I don’t let my guard down. I don’t wake up tangled in someone else’s life without knowing exactly where I stand.
Sliding the sheet aside, I ease out of bed, careful not to disturb him. The hardwood floor feels cool under my feet as I gather my clothes, trying to stay quiet. My leggings are draped over the arm of a chair, my sports bra discarded near the foot of the bed. It’s like a trail of evidence leading back to last night, a stark reminder of how completely I lost control.
I tug my shirt over my head and clutch my shoes in one hand as I tiptoe toward the door, my heart hammering. Almost there. Almost out.
But as I reach for the handle, a quiet voice stops me in my tracks.
"Leaving without saying goodbye?"
I freeze. My grip tightens on the doorframe as I turn to see Jonah propped up on one elbow. His piercing blue eyes are bright despite the haze of sleep. There’s no anger in his expression, just curiosity—and maybe a flicker of something softer.
"I didn’t want to wake you," I say, my voice barely above a whisper, also aware of the other person in this condo I don't want to wake. God, I hate my life right this second.
Jonah raises an eyebrow. The corner of his mouth lifts in a way that’s equal parts playful and serious. "I wish you would have before you got out. Now I'll have to undress you all over again. Which, of course, I'm not complaining about."
His tone is light, teasing, but there’s a heat in his gaze that sucks all of the oxygen out of my body. For a moment, I consider brushing it off, making some sarcastic remark to lighten the mood and get on my way. But I don’t. I can’t. The look in his eyes tells me he isn’t joking.
Jonah shifts slightly and sexily licks his full lips. The sheet slips down, revealing his broad chest and the tattoos I was definitely not staring at earlier. He gives me that grin—the one that’s too easy and too dangerous all at once.
“You know,” he says, his voice still rough with sleep, “you’re overthinking. Again. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I’m not—” I start, but he cuts me off with a look. It’s not condescending, just...knowing. Damn him for knowing me so well.
He pats the empty side of the bed, the grin softening into something gentler. “Come back. Let’s just take a minute. No agendas, no big decisions. Just us.”
I hesitate, the tug of his words stronger than I want them to be. The bed is warm, and honestly, there’s a part of me that wants to sink back into it, let myself be lulled by the calm of the morning. But I can’t—not after everything I just spiraled through.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say finally, crossing my arms as I stand awkwardly at the edge of the room.
Jonah raises an eyebrow, clearly not used to hearing me deflect. “Because?”
“Because,” I reply, searching for a reason that isn’t because all I want to do is fuck your brains out and that isn't productive. “Don’t you have to go to work today? I’m not on until tonight, but it is Monday morning, after all.”
“Mondays are my late days. Clinic days unless I’m on call the weekend before. I thought you knew my schedule, Harper,” he jokes.
“Please. I can barely keep up with my own. Well, what about coffee instead? Like, actually go out. It’s a nice morning. A walk could be good.”
He studies me for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly, and I brace myself for one of his sarcastic quips. But instead, he sighs, leaning back against the pillows.
“All right,” he says, dragging a hand through his already messy hair. “But for the record, I’d prefer coffee in bed. With you.”
I roll my eyes, my lips twitching despite myself. “I'm a messy drinker. I'd hate to get coffee in your bed.”
“I wouldn't mind,” he counters. “But I'll concede.”
“Smart man,” I mutter, heading toward the door. “Get dressed. I’ll meet you out here.”
He laughs, low and easy, and I feel his gaze follow me as I leave the room. “You got it, Nurse Gray. But don’t think this is me giving up. Or, pretending.”
“Didn’t think for a second that you were capable of that,” I call back over my shoulder. As I step out of Jonah’s room, relief is just starting to settle in my chest. A walk, some coffee—neutral ground. Maybe that’s exactly what we need to clear the air.
But my plan of slipping out unnoticed dies an instant death when I turn the corner and come face-to-face with Lila.
She’s standing at the kitchen counter, pouring herself a mug of coffee. When she spots me, her eyes widen, and then her face lights up with a grin that could rival the sun.
“Well, well, well,” she drawls, leaning against the counter with a smug look. “Good morning, Sunshine. I was hoping your phone on the counter meant you stayed the night.”
My face instantly heats up, but I plaster on a smile. “Morning, Lila,” I say, my voice a little too chipper. I adjust the strap of my bag on my shoulder, suddenly hyper-aware of how obvious it is that I’m leaving Jonah’s room. My hair’s a mess, my shirt is wrinkled, and the look on Lila’s face says she’s already drawn every conclusion there is to draw.
“Sleep well?” she asks, taking a slow sip of her coffee, her eyes practically dancing with amusement.
“I—uh, yeah. Thanks,” I manage, praying for the floor to open up and swallow me whole. My mind scrambles for something casual to say, anything to deflect. “Jonah and I are just heading out for coffee.”
“Coffee,” she repeats, her grin widening. “Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
“Lila.” My voice comes out sharper than I intend, but it only makes her laugh.
“What?” she says innocently, holding up her hands. “I’m just saying, it’s nice to see my brother not acting like a total idiot for once. And, for the record, I’m thrilled about this. Seriously.”
“There’s nothing to be thrilled about,” I say quickly, my pulse hammering. “We’re friends. That’s it.”
“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly unconvinced. “Friends. Got it.”
I force a laugh, but it feels hollow, and I’m begging Jonah silently in my head to get out here and save me. The seconds stretch on like hours as I try not to squirm under Lila’s knowing gaze.
“You know,” she adds, taking another sip of her coffee, “it’s nice to see someone who can keep him on his toes. He needs that.”
Before I can respond, Jonah finally walks into the room, his hair damp from a quick rinse and his usual smirk firmly in place. He glances between me and Lila, his brow lifting.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asks, clearly amused.
“Not at all,” Lila says breezily. “Just getting to know your friend better.”
Jonah’s eyes narrow slightly, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Uh-huh,” he says, grabbing his keys off the counter. “You ready, Harper? Lila, can I grab you a coffee or a bagel?”
“Absolutely,” I say, maybe a little too fast. I shoot Lila a smile and head for the door before she can say anything else.
"No, I'm good. Thanks, though. Bye, lovebirds!"
As Jonah follows me out, I hear Lila call after us, her voice teasing. “Have fun, you two! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
I groan softly under my breath, and Jonah laughs as he catches up to me. “Lila giving you a hard time?” he asks, his tone light.
“You could say that,” I mutter, refusing to meet his eyes. “Remind me never to run into her unprepared again.”
Jonah chuckles, but there’s something warm in his voice when he says, “She likes you, you know.”
I glance up at him, my stomach doing a little flip. “Yeah, well, I like her too. Just...not at sunrise after a long night.”
His grin widens. “Noted.”