30. Chapter Thirty #2
She glances up at me with bloodshot eyes.
“They’re not raunchy,” she says quietly. “They’re romantic.”
Standing at the foot of the bed, I drag a hand through my hair. Just as I’m opening my mouth to speak, Harlow cuts me off.
“I’d like to go to work.”
“Not this again,” I grumble.
“Yes,” she snips, narrowing her gaze on me. “This again. Your sister approves of me working. She says I need to find some normalcy.”
“Did she now.”
“Mm-hmm.” She cocks a daring brow at me, knowing damn well how I feel about her working in that place. “I’ll cut you a deal. Let me go back to work, and I’ll forgive you for making me want to die.” She flashes me a sardonic smile.
“Christ, Harlow. This isn’t something to be cracking jokes about.”
She shrugs. “It’s my problem. I’ll cope with it however I see fit. So do we have a deal or not?”
I all but scoff, completely baffled by her sudden shift in mood. I’m not sure if I should be impressed by her bounce-back time or concerned by it. Either way, according to Lily, mood swings are something I need to keep an eye on.
“Suit yourself,” she chirps. “Now leave me alone, Lynx.” She taps a pink-painted fingernail on the book in her lap. “I’d like to find out how the naive city girl and the hot, grumpy cowboy meet.”
And just like that, she dismisses me.
Deciding it’s best not to push her right now, I leave her in peace to read her smutty romance novel and head back to my office.
The first thing I do once I’m there is pull up the surveillance camera of my bedroom to keep an eye on her while I work.
If she thinks she’s going to pull the wool over my eyes a second time, she’s got another think coming.
Two long frustration-filled days pass where I spend most of my free time pacing and obsessing over Harlow’s past and how to put an end to this once and for all.
But when Sloane finally reaches out and tells me she’s back from the job and will be diving into research first thing tomorrow morning, a weight lifts from my chest and I find myself feeling a little less … volatile. More composed. More relaxed.
More focused.
I go in search of Harlow, finding her in the backyard working on her self-defense moves. She’s wearing her usual black leggings and a pink cropped tank top. Her long black hair is tied up in a high ponytail, a few strands of her pink highlight falling loose around her makeup-free face.
Despite the fact that it’s late autumn, the temperature is high, the sun warm and casting a bronze glow on her bare arms and chest.
The sight makes my dick stand to attention. It also has that effect on my heart.
Leaning against one of the large natural wood pillars beneath the awning, I watch her closely, cataloging every move she makes. The determined expression on her face. The way her hair flicks over her shoulder each time she turns abruptly.
Every. Fucking. Thing.
“You’re getting better,” I tell her.
She chops the air with her arm one last time, finishing off one of the moves I showed her the first day we came out here, before turning to face me.
Today, her eyes are bright and wide, exhaustion and sadness no longer darkening the warm caramel I’ve decided is my new favorite color.
“Are you hungry?”
She shrugs but remains silent.
I push off the pillar and saunter toward her, stopping a few feet away to gauge her reaction before closing the rest of the space between us and tucking the free strands of hair behind her ear.
Her eyes flutter shut at the contact, her long lashes splaying out across the tops of her cheeks as she counts backward from two and exhales softly.
This is the first skin-to-skin contact we’ve made since she tried to take her own life the other night. And fuck if it doesn’t cause relief to inflate inside my chest like an air balloon.
“What do you need from me right now, pretty girl?”
She peeks up at me, her plump bottom lip teasing me, attempting to lure me in with a kiss.
Fuck. I want to taste her again. But I also want to respect her space while she heals.
“What I need isn’t something you’re willing to give me, Lynx.” Her tone is soft, but beneath it lies a hint of bitterness.
I hate that I’m the cause of it.
Snaking my hand around the back of her neck, I seal my body to hers, angle her face to mine, and gaze down into her fucking gorgeous eyes.
“I won’t let you take a life, Harlow. Whether they deserve it or not, watching the light dim from someone’s eyes isn’t something that ever leaves you.
It alters your mind. Eats at your soul. But it’s not just an internal shift that happens.
Once your hands are stained with blood, the world as you know it vanishes.
In its place is a hell you can never escape. ”
She studies me for a beat, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.
Closing her eyes, she blows out a breath and whispers, “I’m already in that hell, Lynx.”
Her words send a blade clean through my heart. But I stand stock-still, the oxygen in my lungs burning like acid and spilling out into my chest cavity.
But it’s what she says next that nearly brings me to my knees.
“You think you’re saving me by robbing me of my sins, but you’re too late. My hands are already stained with blood. The soul you’re trying to protect doesn’t exist.” Her eyes flash open and find mine. “It hasn’t since the day I murdered my father in that church basement over six years ago.”