CHAPTER 19
Harvey
I text Claire to tell her to take the next few days off. I can’t train nor think about what’s happening with her.
The days all seem to be blending together.
I barely eat. I barely feel human.
My breathing is shallow, the pain in my chest is constant, and I’ve had a massive headache since my fight with Gemma.
My parents call me—I decline the call.
Henrik calls me many times on Tuesday night—I don’t answer.
The last thing I need is for anyone to tell me how much of an idiot I’ve been. Maybe I’m in the wrong, perhaps I should’ve done more to get out of my depressive state before losing my relationship to it.
Because that is what it’s about. She turned to another man because I didn’t have the energy and the right mindset to take care of myself nor my relationship.
She’s also treated me like glass since the accident, like a child she needed to tend to, instead of the man she fell in love with. And she’s shut me down emotionally over the years. But I’ve come to realize that’s simply her personality.
On Wednesday morning, Claire shows up. I let her in, knowing I’ll have to return to PT at some point. I tell her about my appointment with McKleen and the good news. It’s not a bad way to keep the conversation about work.
“That’s amazing, Harvey.” She types on her iPad, though I’m sure she already knew. When she notices my silence, she asks, “Hey…are you okay? Is this about Gemma?”
I stare outside, seeing our neighbor get out of her SUV with her kids, looking joyful, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever reach that level of happiness again.
“She left me.”
I see it in her eyes. No matter how much Claire likes me, she wouldn’t wish this upon me. I mean, who would? She probably wanted me to leave Gemma first.
“I’m so sorry.”
I shrug. “It was bound to happen.”
“Did you talk to her about the things that are bothering you? Maybe she needs time, Harv.”
I chuckle. “As if you even want us to stay together anyway.”
She swallows. “Don’t. You know how I feel about you, but I want you to be happy, and if that means working things out with Gemma, then I’ll step aside. Besides”—she laughs lightly, but it’s full of pain—“it’s clear that you want to be with her and not me. That’s telling enough.”
I wish I could confirm or deny her declaration, but I can’t. I don’t have it in me even to talk at this point, let alone think or make decisions about my love life.
She’s neither right nor wrong.
I want to try to work things out with Gemma. But she’s also wrong because I know how strongly I feel about Claire. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to tame those feelings down the road, which is so unfair to Gemma.
“You know…you’re probably both better off without me.”
Claire acts unbothered. “Or maybe you don’t believe you deserve to be happy.”
I mean, what the fuck, is she right?
Do I sabotage myself and any possibility of happiness?
“Gemma’s been avoiding me. I’ve been texting her. I want to apologize to her for coming on to you,” Claire says, then shushes me quietly, shaking her head, when she notices that I’m about to argue with her statement. “I hope she forgives you, Harvey.”
I stare at her, bewildered, as she then finishes typing on her iPad. She seems sad, and I know I must be the cause of it, which tears me up inside.
I don’t want to hurt Gemma. I feel like I owe it to us to try and make it work. After all, she’s stayed with me even after my paralysis.
Yet…yet… Claire .
There’s a certain attraction I feel for this woman that has nothing to do with her looks.
“Okay, let’s start. Don’t worry, we’ll take it easy this week,” she murmurs, and I nod.
I focus on walking and then on my training exercises, avoiding her eyes, hoping that this way I can avoid wanting her. Besides, I’m too heartbroken about Gemma to do anything about it anyway.
I’m very weak during training.
Back to square one.
Henrik comes over in the afternoon after Claire leaves early. The last thing I want to deal with today is a weird interaction between these two when I’m not in the mood to be around people.
“You look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I say deadpan.
He sighs. “Harvey, what’re you doing?”
“Let me guess, you spoke to Gemma,” I say when we’re sitting on the couch.
He swallows. “Look, clearly mistakes were made, but you can forgive each other.”
“Yeah, maybe, but at what cost? I don’t trust her, and she doesn’t trust me with Claire. I have no idea where the hell she’s been.”
“Well…I spoke to her at Gia’s, but…”
“But what?”
Hen bites his lower lip. “She wasn’t home when I got there.”
I shake my head. “Was it late?”
His nod breaks something in me. Why the hell should I fix things with her after everything she’s probably done behind my back?
I snort and eye my brother, who’s staring at me with a look of pity that I don’t appreciate.
“Harv…just talk to her and figure it out from there.”
So I do, despite my anger, knowing how hard and lonely it’d feel to lose Gemma. I pull my phone out and text her to come back home, begging her with a please at the end of my message.
“I don’t know what to do. Fixing things with Gemma means hurting Claire and vice versa.”
“One step at a time, brother.”
“I don’t know if Gemma and I can even solve anything at this point.”
He pats my shoulder. “Maybe you’re right… Maybe you can’t , but at least try.”
I chuckle. “When did you become such a wiseass?”
He smirks. “You learn a thing or two when you drown in pussy.”
Hen’s words stay in my mind all evening until Gemma comes home. She looks completely drained of life as she removes her coat.
“Hey,” she tells me in a soft, low voice.
She’s given up on us.
It’s etched in the lines of her face, in her mannerisms. It’s written on these fucking walls around me. No matter how hard I want to, I will never get her back the same way I had her before the accident.
And that’s a truth I need to face.
Until then, though, I want to give Gemma every part of me, because she’s given me everything she has since we met.
She deserves it. I must be able to do this—to be the man she wants me to be.
I swallow, wheeling myself in front of her.
“I’m sorry. For pushing you away, for kissing Claire. I… Give me a chance.” I look away, clenching my jaw.
Some days, when the anger vanishes over the things she’s done to me, I can then see the things I’ve done to her, things that have hurt her a lot too.
She’s debating with herself, it’s obvious.
Her eyes are moving, and she’s not eagerly jumping at the chance to get back together.
“Say something…” I’m pleading with her at this point, anything to make it up to her if it means we can go back to what we used to have.
Even though I know it’s not possible, because I’ve never been the same person since.
She’s avoiding my gaze, obviously deeply troubled by something. She finally whispers her question. “Do you love her?”
It doesn’t matter what you feel. So you like Claire, so what? Gemma has been there for you.
Don’t think about Claire.
Claire with her updos and her smile, and her fucking words.
“Forget about Claire.” I clear my throat. “We can figure out everything in the morning. I know she wants to talk to you, to apologize. We can put this behind us.”
“We’re different people now. We want different things.”
Keep trying.
“Why’re you doing this? I told you I’d try!” I don’t even recognize my own voice as I wheel backward, feeling my walls going up, caging my thoughts and emotions within their steel.
The perfect prison.
“You’re too late, Harvey!”
No, no.
“Gemma, I-I said I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to change, then make dinner. I don’t want to make a rash decision. I need time. I’ll stay here until we figure it out, but we need time, Harv.”
Every word is a blow to my self-esteem. A blow to my love for this woman.
I laugh viciously. “Fuck this.” I leave and head to my room in a panic, slamming the door.
I keep repeating her words, and Henrik’s and Claire’s words, about time. But I don’t have time.
Time, time, time.
I can feel it.
If I don’t do something now, I’ll lose her. She’ll slip through my fingers the same way she’s been doing for far too long.
It’s hard to breathe again, and once more, I’m reminded of how shitty I feel around Gemma, as we’re always fighting. Tears slide down my face, and I wipe them away.
Remember what we used to have.
Remember how she was your rock during your darkest times.
Hen and Gemma were there for me when it felt like no one else was.
Then, hastily, I head to her room, barging inside.
“I can’t wait. I need to know… I’ll try. I’ll try harder. I promise. Gemma, please, please, Gemma , give us another try.” I move to her. “I can’t lose you.” I bury my head in her stomach, my arms wrapping tightly around her waist.
It feels nice.
It feels amazing.
I’ve missed her smell. Her touch.
Even with that, though, deep down, there’s something so wrong about this. But then I think of how I felt when she left.
All alone.
Without Gemma.
I lift my head and look into her eyes before seeing the indecisiveness pass through them.
So I wheel back, waiting for her response, hating the way she’s staring at me as the seconds tick by.
“Why’re you looking at me like that, Gemma?”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re fucking done with us!”
Hard. To. Breathe.
“We just…we need space, Harv. Admit it.”
Panic. I’m panicking.
“No! Fuck your space—pick right now! You should be able to choose—me or him. It’s me or him!”
I’m being hypocritical because of Claire. Except I was still able to tell Claire that I want to work things out with Gemma. Has Gemma been able to do the same? Is she thinking about him right now?
“Him. Or me. I swear to God, if you pick him, I don’t know what I’ll do—” My voice cracks from the mental fatigue of all of this.
I’m so unhappy with myself, it’s not even funny.
Her leaving me makes me feel as if I’m breaking apart cell by cell and becoming less than half the man I already am.
I think of the intense loneliness. Of that black hole. Of never seeing Gemma again. Of her leaving me behind and marrying her boss.
Then she grabs my hand. For some reason, she’s focused on the phoenix tattoo on my forearm.
“Gemma.” I shake my head, knowing I’ve lost her for good as I wrap my arms around her waist one last time.
Oh, please, please, please.
Don’t leave me.
Fuck my life, I really am losing her.
This is it—the moment I’ve been waiting for since the accident.
She’s not answering me.
Why isn’t she answering me?
“Gemma?” I ask, willing to do anything for another chance to make this right.
“Okay.” She swallows. “Okay, Harv, we’ll try.”
Her words are dripping with hesitation. There’s a lack of certainty in them about our future that’s ratcheting up my anxiety to its highest level.
But I can work with trying. I have no other choice.
So even though I don’t want to, I release her waist, rolling my chair back, remembering that she wanted to shower. “I’ll let you shower.”
I exhale loudly, wishing I could get a release by playing extreme sports. Nondisabled people are so fucking lucky sometimes, I swear. Instead, I settle for playing video games until Gemma’s out of the shower.
Then I wheel out of my room and head into the kitchen, watching her grill cheese sandwiches. I set the table with plates, and she thanks me before I watch TV for a bit.
Soon, we sit and eat dinner together.
It’s quiet, the opposite of our night so far, but not in a good way. Rather, it’s the kind of silence that wreaks havoc on a relationship’s intimacy.
After we finish, as she’s clearing the table, I put my hand on her arm, stopping her.
“What’s on your mind, Gemma?” I lean forward, feeling like I’m doing something behind Claire’s back as well, yet the guilt spreads with the fact that Gemma’s taken aback by my touch.
I can’t remember the last time I touched her this way.
And that breaks me inside.
She deserved better.
I was too busy dwelling on my own nightmares to make my girl’s dreams come true.
I failed her as a man.
And I don’t know how to fix this.
“You’ve been happy lately, and you look miserable right now. Tell me you want to try.”
I want her to want to try, and I want her to want me. If she doesn’t, all of this is for nothing.
“I want to try,” she reassures me. “It’s just been a long week.”
I nod, letting go of her arm as I lean back in my chair. I can accept that. She’s right—it’s been a crazy week for both of us.
“Why didn’t you tell me what Stefan told you at physical therapy?” she asks.
I shrug, avoiding her stare. “No point talking about it until I can make it happen. It’s all…hypothetical.”
On some days, my being able even to train is largely tied to my mental health. And so far, with things being so rocky with Gemma, I haven’t been doing so well.
She lifts a brow. “Sure, sure,” she dismisses unintentionally. “But you’ve managed to overcome all hypotheticals in the past. You shouldn’t doubt yourself.”
“I’m not doubting myself. Why’re you mad?”
I swear, it’s like she wants to fight. Why else would she bring up this topic tonight? Can we not recover from our previous fight first?
She shakes her head, and I know she’s going to ignore me as she clears the table and does the dishes. When she’s done, she surprises me when she turns around, her back to the kitchen sink. “Does she know?”
Oh, fucking hell. Tread carefully.
I look away. “Of course. Claire’s my PTA. Don’t make this into something it’s not. You have no right to talk. You’ve been MIA for the past few months!”
“Because I got a job! I needed to do something for myself. I could only hope that you’d support me in this.”
“And I support you.” I wheel closer to her, hoping to put this argument to rest. “We both fucked up and made mistakes, but if we want to put this behind us, we need to stop bringing them up.”
She smiles. “It’s not that easy,” she says. “The damage is done.”
I clear my throat. “So how do we fix this?” I whisper.
I’m relieved when she squeezes my hand, but instead of answering my question, she wishes me a good night and leaves me be.
I should feel elated. But I don’t. Because deep down, I’m not sure she even wants this.
I’m not sure she still wants me.