34. Harmony
CHAPTER 34
Harmony
I close the door behind me, ignoring the burning of my feet from walking through the weeds and dry grass. My purse falls from my hand as I put my head back on the door and close my eyes. The tears roll down both cheeks so slow as I turn my head to the side to look out into the darkness. “You’ve done the stupidest thing you could ever do,” I tell the empty, dark, humid room. “You’ve gone and fallen in love with someone who will never love you back.” I wipe the tears from my face and take a step forward, wincing from the stabbing pain in my feet.
I walk over to the steps putting one foot on them to go upstairs, and the pounding starts, stopping me from taking the next step. “Harmony,” he growls out, and I close my eyes, just looking at the door when the next pounding comes. “Open the door.”
I look at the door, taking a deep breath before walking back to it and turning the lock open . I’m going to let him off the hook, I tell myself. It’ll be fine , my head says the words, but my heart feels like it’s being broken into a million pieces with the shards of glass piercing through me, causing me so much pain I’m having trouble breathing. “Baby,” he pleads, his banging not letting up. “I’m going to break down this fucking door.” I unlock the door, and he must hear the click because the banging stops as I open the door a bit, just so I can see out of it. “Baby,” he says again, and the pain in my chest is stronger than it was one minute ago. His hands go to the side of the door as he stands there in his shorts and nothing else. “Why did you leave?”
The question makes me do a small blink, thinking of how to answer this. I look over his shoulder, wondering if Taylor is waiting for him, but just the thought makes my stomach lurch. “You had company.” That’s the only thing I can come up with.
“I had company,” he repeats my words, as if he’s trying to understand them. “Harmony,” he grits between clenched teeth, and I know I have to let him off the hook. This needs to be over for both of us.
“It’s fine, Brady.” I try to muster up all the courage I have to get this conversation over with, and then when it’s finally over, I’m going to lie in bed and cry. “I get it.”
His hands fall from the doorjamb, folding over his chest, “You get it?” I really hate this conversation is taking more time than it should, prolonging the inevitable, because he’s repeating everything I say.
“Yeah, I get it.” My voice goes higher than I want it to go, but this has to just fucking end. “You felt sorry for me.” His eyes bore into mine, and his jaw gets tight. “It’s fine. It’s all fine.” I pretend that it’s fine. “I know where we stand.” I just need him to fucking leave.
“You know where we stand?” His voice is tight, almost as if he’s hissing and growling at the same time. “And where is that?”
It’s my turn to repeat his question. “Where is that?” He can’t be serious.
“Yeah, where is that, Harmony?” His voice is still tight, and I really fucking wish he would have waited until the morning for this.
“Yeah, you felt sorry for me—” I start to say and the sound that comes out of him is feral, but I know I have to just continue this. “It’s totally okay, Brady, I know where we stand.” I just need him to leave. He is staring at me, and he looks like he’s thinking of something to say. “Like, can we not do this? I get it. I so get it.” I finally throw up my hand in frustration. “We don’t have to do this.”
“I think we have to do this,” he finally snaps, pushing past me and into the house. “We most certainly do since you just handed me that bullshit right there.” He points at me, and I turn now and try not to wince, but of course it’s Brady, so he sees it but ignores it for now.
“Brady.” I am literally hanging on by a string right now. After the whole fucking day, the whole fucking couple of months. I thought I had it under control, but I was wrong. “Please, for the love of everything, can we just fucking not do this?” The tear escapes, but it’s a mad tear, a frustrated tear. “Like, I fucking get it. You”—I point at him—“you are you, and I know that us—” Should I even use the word us? “With me, it’s a passing thing.”
“A passing thing?” It’s almost a whisper.
“Stop fucking repeating everything I’m saying!” I shout and take a step, but then I feel like I have something stuck on the bottom of my foot so I limp. “Now, if you can please just go back to your house and your”—I don’t even know what to call her—“friend and leave me be.”
“No,” he snaps, and this time, I’m the one who almost growls. “What’s wrong with your foot?”
“Nothing,” I quickly fire back. “Brady, seriously. You have a friend who is over there, and you should go back to her.”
“No one is over there,” he declares, and I look at him and then out the open door, not really seeing anything. “I had no idea she would just show up at my door.” I swallow down the bile. “We were friends.”
I hold up my hand. “I really don’t want to know.” I shake my head. “Actually, I don’t need to know. What you do with your time is your business.”
“Fuck that!” he roars. “I’m in fucking love with you.” The gasp that leaves my mouth fills the whole room. It’s so quiet you can hear dust fall from the sky.
“What?” The word barely leaves my mouth.
“Yeah.” He puts his hands on his hips. “I’m in fucking love with you,” he repeats. “I’ve never in my life said that to a woman before.” His voice goes soft. “You asked me tonight why I was single, and I told you I haven’t met the one who I want to do everyday life with, and I lied to you.” He takes a step to me. “I have met her. I’ve met her and her son, and I’ve gone and fallen completely and madly in love with both of them.” I don’t move from my spot; I don’t even think I take a breath. “You both consume me and all I can think of is the two of you. Keeping you both safe and making sure you are both okay. You walk into a room, and I swear to God, it’s like I’m complete. It’s like I wasn’t alive before you, and now I’m breathing, and it’s fucking amazing.” His thumb comes up to rub my cheek. “I love you, Harmony. I’m in love with you.”
I look down, not sure I can say what I need to say without sobbing. I breathe out through my mouth and in through my nose and look up at him. “I sort of love you too.”
He smirks at me. “Sort of?” he asks, and I sniffle, trying not to laugh.
“Yeah,” I confirm, and he bends his forehead to mine. “Sort of.”
“I’m sorry about Taylor showing up,” he says softly. “I wish that never happened.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s not fucking okay,” he snaps, making me laugh. “It’s never going to be fucking okay.”
“How was she supposed to know?” I ask.
“Tomorrow, everyone knows,” he states, and I stare at him, not sure what he means by that. “We make it known we’re together.”
“Brady,” I murmur, and he bends and picks me up in his arms—one arm under my arms, the other under my knees. He takes a step and then bends to grab my purse before walking out of the house. Slamming the door behind us as he carries me back to his house. “I could have walked,” I mumble to him as he walks up the front steps, his door wide open.
“Is that why you were limping?” he asks me as he walks into the house and goes straight to the kitchen, setting me down on a stool. He picks up my foot, then turns his glare at me. “You have thorns in the bottom of your feet.” He turns and walks out of the room to the bathroom. I grab my foot, looking down and seeing four of them sticking out. That might have been the pain I felt as I walked back to the house. He walks into the room with a first-aid kit. “Are you happy with yourself?” He glares at me as he takes out the tweezers from the bag. “None of this would have happened if you would have stayed where you should have stayed.”
“I will have you know, Brady,” I hiss as he pulls one out of my foot, making it burn a bit more, “it’s not the first time I’ve opened the door to unwanted guests.” His eyes shoot up to mine so quickly, it takes my breath away. “Except this time, it hurt a lot more.”
He doesn’t say a word after that. Instead, he takes the three thorns out, walks over to the sink, wetting a cloth, and comes back to clean my feet. Only when he’s wiped them down, puts clear ointment on, and then covers them with Band-Aids does he turn to me. “I’m not Winston,” he declares. “Someone will never be showing up at my door because I’ve stepped out on you. Because that isn’t the man I am. It’s not the man my father raised and”—he zips up the first-aid kit bag—“that is not the man I want Wyatt to be.”
I put my hand on his bare chest. “Stop.”
“No.” He shakes his head, picking me up off the stool and placing me on the counter with my legs open so he can stand between them. “He was the second thing I thought of tonight after the shock of seeing her at my door. What if Wyatt was here? What would he think?”
“Well, he’s seven, so I’m not sure he would think anything.” I rub his cheek, as he looks into my eyes.
“Maybe not now,” Brady says, “but he’ll remember and then he’ll ask questions.”
“Good news is he wasn’t here, so we don’t have to cross that bridge when we get there.”
“I know you are going through a lot,” he says softly. “I know he’s going through a lot, and the past six months have not been easy. I want him to be free of all of this. I don’t want him to worry about when his father will come crashing into the house the next time. I want him to go to school and worry about if he’s going to make the football team and not have to worry about anything else.” He swallows, and my heart soars in my chest because this man is so in love with my kid, and it’s more than anything I could have ever wished for. “I want him to know how much you both mean to me. I want him to wake up feeling safe. I want him to wake up knowing his mother is safe. I want him—” I shush him by putting my fingers on his lips to stop him from talking.
“You know how I said I sort of loved you too?” I say with a smile. “I was kinda lying to you.” His hands rub the sides of my legs as he pulls me even closer to him, and my legs wrap around his waist. “I don’t sort of love you.” He gets a sly smile. “I really love you.”