CHAPTER 5
Harvey
There’s something about Claire.
One minute I want to tell her to shut up, to leave, hoping that things could go back to the way they were and Gemma could be here instead. But sometimes, just sometimes, Claire goes and blows me away with her words.
And her stares? She looks at me the way Gemma used to. As if I’m special and appreciated. Maybe even desirable.
And it almost bothers me.
The same way it bothers me when Gemma wants me.
It’s like a physical switch goes off, and I know I won’t be able to get turned on.
And then what? At what point will Gemma feel defeated, ruin her own self-confidence because she thinks it’s her fault, and start to resent me for it?
No, what we have now works for both of us.
She just might not know it yet.
I finish training, and I have a good session today. It puts me in a good mood. I’m in an even better mood once I’m freshly showered, and I can smell the sizzling bacon as I wheel myself to my room.
“Harvey, I’m making us BLTs…” Claire stops dead in her tracks when she notices I’m only wearing a towel.
If this is enough to make her stare, imagine what my abs would’ve done to her in the past. Though I’m seeing more definition to my stomach lately due to the weight training and eating Claire’s homemade meals.
I’m liking the progress.
“I’m so sorry… I should’ve knocked!” She swallows, a flush creeping over her cheeks.
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Right. Well, I’ll let you get dressed.”
I watch her walk away in her dark green scrubs. The color goes well with her red hair, especially the pants.
Gemma.
I close my eyes and sigh, feeling like a dick. If Gemma knew that Claire was in my room staring at me shirtless, what would she think?
The poor girl doesn’t deserve this.
I wear gray joggers and go commando, since it’s easier for me to pee like that, then pick out a long-sleeved white shirt.
By the time I wheel myself to the kitchen, I’m famished.
Claire’s blushing again when I transfer to the chair next to her. I decide to put her out of her misery. She saw my chest—big deal.
“This is good, Claire,” I tell her once I’ve dug in.
“Oh, thanks!” She’s smiling at me with her big doe eyes.
“Actually, thank you.” I nod, letting her know I appreciate it.
“So he does have some manners.” She winks at me, and suddenly my heart is beating and my dick is twitching in my joggers.
Why now, is he being serious?
“Only on Fridays,” I say back, bending forward slightly, mentally distracting myself.
The twitching stops, and I’m shaking my head in disbelief. She just winks, and we’re ready to go.
Fucking hell.
“So, what do you want to do today?” she asks once the food is gone and the kitchen is tidy. “We could play chess…”
“No, I’m good,” I tell her, eager to return to the cozy nest in my room.
“Oh, come on!”
“Claire, I’ve never played.”
Nor do I want to.
“I can teach you.” She grabs one of her bags and takes out a chessboard, lifting it up in excitement. She probably has other games in there—no doubt she’s hoping to pass the time.
I can’t help the growing irritation I feel as I sigh, knowing I’ll still pacify her when I see the smile on her face. She joins me at the table before relaying the possible moves of each piece. Somehow it reminds me of how I used to game with Gemma.
Except Claire talks most of the time.
Weirdly, it brings me some sort of relief. And with each minute that goes by, I feel a little better. Something about her presence appeases me yet bothers me all the same, since her being here means Gemma’s out there living her own life.
And I get why. I want Gemma to follow her dreams. But I still miss her company, despite how quiet she is around me now.
Claire and I start playing after a practice round, and with each move, I realize that this game will last an eternity. I watch her ponder her next move, her long feminine finger hovering over her pawn.
“Hmm.” Her brow creases as she analyzes her next move, her teeth biting the corner of her lip.
Would you stop that?
“You play chess a lot?” I ask, looking away, hoping to distract myself from her lip biting.
“I used to play with my father growing up.” She swallows. “Our quality time was rare, so naturally I grew fond of it.”
So, useless father. Gotcha.
“It’s your favorite game, I presume?”
“Hmm, I like cards too and board games. Anything but computer games.” She looks at me apologetically after she says this, as if I would ever think she was the gaming type.
More like the bookish type.
“You can’t do that,” she tells me, regarding my next move.
“Why not?” I question. “Seems legit.”
Her brow lifts. “Except it’s not, and it can’t be done.”
“Alright, alright.” I sigh, thinking of something else.
I’m going to need a nap after this mental exertion.
As time passes, most of my pawns are settled outside the chessboard on her side. Meanwhile, I only took out two of her pieces.
“You’re very good at this.” I scratch my head with my thumb.
“Practice.” She shrugs like it’s nothing, yet I notice that my compliment paints her cheeks a dusty rose. We keep playing in silence until she mutters, “Checkmate,” with a smile on her face. “We can have a rematch soon if you’re eager to lose again.”
She’s just teasing, and I know it. The smile on my face in response contradicts the annoyance I feel hanging out with her.
Because I actually enjoy it.
She’s putting the pieces away, and I’m back in my wheelchair, still eager to head back to my room to process my time with her.
“Harvey.” Her voice stops me in my tracks. I turn to face her, her cheeks a rosy color. “You did great today. And I had fun, I really did.”
I nod, clearing my throat. “Yeah, same here.”
I feel off by the time Gemma comes home.
My stomach is in knots, and I’m restless.
The more training leads to progression, the more my legs feel heavy at times—what I imagine constant vertigo feels like.
Gemma’s in her head tonight too, more so than usual.
“You pick the movie.” I hand her the remote. She’s sitting on one side of the couch, and I’m next to her, seated in my wheelchair.
“Okay,” she says simply.
“Something on your mind?” I ask, hoping to get a glimpse into her thoughts as she’s scrolling through Netflix to pick a horror movie, no doubt.
“No, not really. It’s just…new job, right? There’s a lot to learn.”
Her answer makes me feel like a prick. All this time, I’ve been worried about her being away from me instead of realizing how happy she seems to be since starting this job.
It’s selfish of me.
“Gemma, like any other job, you’ll learn. Soon you’ll know exactly what to do.”
“Yeah.” She clears her throat. “Thanks, Harv. By the way, how was training?”
“Good.” She waits for me to elaborate, but I refrain from doing so because Gemma’s first question often leads to many follow-ups. Questions I have no energy to answer, at least not without getting irritated.
She must sense I’m not in the mood, since she starts the movie.
For the rest of the night, a faint smile appears etched on her face. I wonder if all it takes for her to be this happy is to be asked about her day and her worries.
The possibility makes me feel like shit.
She deserves someone who will ask all the questions, without exceptions for their moods.
The dark cloud over my head is back. This god-awful feeling deep within.
I feel sad. I feel numb.
I feel as if nothing will ever be joyful again.
And this darkness inside my chest retreats and grows, over and over.
When she makes us popcorn midway through the movie, I catch a whiff of her hair as she hands me my own bowl.
She smells good.
I have this irrational need, desire, whatever to just lay on top of her lap and have her play with my hair.
No fucking idea why.
I’m that lonely.
As if I have no one and everyone all at the same time.
The old me would die to reconnect with her again, but the new me is stuck with nothing but anger as my anchor, drenched in fears and insecurities.
Then I strike and lash out. And I hurt the people I love.
And I don’t even know why.