Chapter 20
Harper
An obtrusive light shines through a window, waking me.
A little disoriented, I look around and realize that I am in the same place I have been for the last two days.
At Jordan’s on “THE COUCH”. Who am I that I didn’t even want to go home?
Empty. That’s who I am, just an empty shell of the Harper that once was.
I sit up and put my feet on the floor, but I don’t move.
I can’t. I have no motivation, no will to do anything.
As I’m sitting there, slumped over contemplating whether or not I want to even go get a glass of water, a large projectile flies at my head and slams into the side of my face.
It’s a pillow so it didn’t hurt, but seriously?
“Get your ass up now, Harper. It’s been two days of you laying there, barely moving.
You stink so bad, at one point I thought you were dead.
Now it’s time to get your ass in gear and go shower.
You’re making the whole place reek!” Jordan says, standing in the kitchen with her arms folded over her chest. That smell is coming from me?
Holy hell. What are best friends for, though, right?
“Okay, fine, I’m going. You didn’t have to try to take my head off though. You could have just asked.” I give her my best side-eye, which I’m pretty sure isn’t that great right now either.
“I did ask. Yesterday. Go take a shower."
"I know, I know," I mumble, rubbing my face with my hands, feeling the grit of a 48-hour emotional shutdown etched into my pores.
"Harper Phillips," Jordan chides, but her tone is softened by concern. "Personal hygiene isn't optional. You'll feel better. Trust me." She tosses a fluffy towel my way, its clean scent a silent rebuke to my current state.
I catch the towel, and a reluctant smile tugs at my lips. Leave it to Jordan to be blunt enough to tell me I stink, yet caring enough to provide fresh linens. I push myself off the counter that’s propping me up.
I shuffle across the carpet, every step a silent argument with my own reluctance. Jordan has never been one to sugarcoat things, and while it might sting sometimes, it's also what makes our friendship work. We've always been able to rely on each other for the truth, even when it hurts.
God, I really have turned into a slob, I think to myself as I catch a glimpse of my disheveled appearance in the bathroom mirror.
The warm water cascades over me as I step into the shower, washing away the grime and exhaustion that have clung to me for the past few days.
Tilting my head back, I let the water soak my hair, feeling it loosen and untangle under the gentle pressure.
This is exactly what I need—a moment to reset and regroup.
Yeah, get your shit together.
I run my hands through my hair and lather shampoo into a rich foam.
As the suds trail down my body, I hear something vibrate against the tiled bathroom floor.
Glancing over, I see my phone light up with a notification.
The screen is foggy from the steam, but I can make out Taylor's name, and my heart skips a beat.
"Seriously?" I mumble, rinsing the shampoo from my hair. "Can't even get five minutes of peace in the shower."
Curiosity gnaws at me, and I can't resist reaching for my phone and swiping the screen with a wet finger.
Taylor: I've been thinking about you. I know I messed up, but do you think I could become your personal trainer? You'll always be my number-one client and the only one in my heart. What do you say?
My eyebrows shoot up, and I can't help but let out a small huff of laughter.
Of course he'd try to win me back with a cheesy line like that.
However, beyond the humor, a warm flutter blossoms in my chest. It's hard to deny the way his words make me feel wanted and appreciated, even after everything that's happened.
I tighten my grip on the phone, my thumb hovering over the keyboard as I ponder how to respond.
Part of me wants to let him back in, to trust that he's sincere and that I won't get hurt again.
But there's also a voice in the back of my mind whispering caution, reminding me of how easily things fell apart before.
Ugh, what do I even say to this? I press my forehead against the cool tiles as the water continues to pour down around me until I hear more vibration noise coming from my phone.
Taylor: Meet me at this address: 576 Elm St. You have 30 minutes to decide. Hope to see you there.
My heart races as I consider his proposal. The clock is ticking, and I know I can't make this decision on my own. I need backup.
"Jordan!" I yell over the sound of the shower, hoping she can hear me from the living room. "Get your ass in here! I need help!"
A few seconds later, Jordan bursts into the bathroom, her eyes wide. "What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Taylor just texted me," I blurt out, thrusting my phone at her so she can read the message. "He wants me to meet him somewhere. What should I do?"
Jordan scrutinizes the text, then looks back at me. "Well, it sounds like he's really trying to make an effort here," she says cautiously. "Maybe it could be good for you to see him and talk things out."
"But what if it's just another one of his games?" I retort, my fingers gripping the edge of the sink as I struggle to keep my emotions in check. "I don't want to get hurt again, Jordan."
"Harper, listen to me," Jordan insists. "You deserve to be happy. If meeting Taylor might help you find that happiness, then you should go."
My breath comes in short, shallow gasps as I weigh her words. She's right – I can't let fear hold me back forever. But is this really the right choice for me? Is Taylor worth the risk?
"Okay," I say finally, nodding my head as determination surges through me. "I'll go meet him."
"Good for you," Jordan beams. "Now hurry up and finish showering. You've got somewhere to be!"
The steam from the shower envelops me like a warm embrace as I step out and hastily wrap a towel around myself.
I glance at my reflection in the foggy mirror, and this time see a red-haired woman with green eyes filled with a little hope and excitement versus the sad and broken woman I saw there only moments ago.
"You've got this. Remember, you're doing this for yourself, not for anyone else." Jordan says, waiting for me just outside the bathroom door.
"I know, Jordan," I reply, taking a deep breath. "But what if..."
"Hey, no 'what ifs'!" she cuts me off firmly. "You go, you talk to him, and whatever happens, happens. You won't know unless you try. Besides, I don't want you living on my couch forever," she adds with a teasing smile.
"Yes ma’am," I concede with an eye roll. "I'm going."
"Good, now get dressed and go kick some ass!"
As I slip into my clothes, thoughts of Taylor fill my head – his strong arms, the way he makes me laugh, the electrifying chemistry between us. It's been so long since I've felt this way about someone, and the thought both terrifies and excites me.
I grab my phone and purse, shoot Jordan a grateful smile, and step out into the cool night air. The city lights cast a shimmering glow on the pavement, guiding me toward my destination.
When I arrive at the address Taylor sent me, I find myself standing in front of an unmarked building with large glass windows that are covered with what looks like thin paper from the inside.
It appears as if this place is still under construction.
I walk inside, trembling from either excitement or fear, my mind can’t decide.
Neither can my heart. I don’t want to be hurt again, but the feelings I have for this man… they’re more than words can describe.
“You came,” Taylor says, leaning against a pillar in the middle of the room.
“A girl still needs her personal trainer,” I reply, nonchalantly.
His face falls and he takes a deep breath.
“Is that the only reason?” he asks. “No, not really. I also wanted to talk to you. To get answers face to face. I have so many questions.” He nods in understanding.
“Ask away, Harp. I’m an open book. I never meant to hurt you.
Honestly, I have no idea what was wrong with me.
Can I plead temporary insanity?” He looks up at me from under his lashes, that schoolboy charm smile lighting up his face.
“What about her?” I ask, hoping I don’t have to elaborate.
Not for him, but for my own heart’s wellbeing.
“Her?” he pauses for a moment, finally catching on he says, “The girl in the video on my socials. We danced. That was it. There was nothing further than the dancing and that unfortunate video. I’m so sorry you had to see that side of me.
It’s not an excuse, but I hadn’t drank like that in a long time and I let everything; football, retirement, what to do with both and…
us get to my head. I wasn’t myself, Harper, but I can promise it will never happen again.
I know what I want in everything, and you are a huge part of that. Is there any way you can forgive me?”
I take a moment to let his words sink in.
Making him sweat a little can’t hurt anything, right?
“I guess I owe you an apology too. I compared you and blamed you quickly, like you were one of my exes and that wasn’t fair to you.
If I had stopped, for even a moment, to think about the Taylor I knew, I’d have known that you weren’t cheating and just needed me to be there for you.
I realize how much stress you were under, and I took some things for granted. So, can forgive each other?”
He nods, his eyes sparkling like a kid who got set loose in a candy shop.
“I’d love that, Harper. I really would. And I have so many things to share with you about my plans.
But first,” he gestures to the punching bag in the middle of the floor.
The one I’ve just now noticed. “We can take out some of our aggression on this bag. Release all our stress. I’ll even put my picture on it if that’ll help you. ”
“You silly man,” I say as I step towards him and place both my hands on his face. “I think we can get through this without tarnishing this gorgeous face.” With that, I lean in and press my lips to his. He envelops me in his arms and deepens the kiss.
“Thank you for being a part of my life, Harper,” he says as he pulls away. We continue our make out session for a few minutes, and then the real fun begins.
Tearing up that punching bag.