Chapter 13 Grayson #2
She seems to decide I’m telling the truth before shaking her head slightly and looking away again.
“I’m trying,” she says, her voice rougher now. “I’m trying to be…normal. To at least feel like I belong here and can function as well as everyone else.”
Normal. That pesky word again. Always loaded on her tongue like it doesn’t hurt her every time she thinks about it.
“Normal is overrated,” I say carefully. “Plus, I don’t think everyone functions well. Some people are just better at hiding their struggles than others.”
Harlow huffs a humorless laugh. “That’s what people say when they don’t understand not fitting the mold.”
My jaw tightens, a slice of anger working its way through my mind.
Not at her, but at the world for how badly it failed her.
At the way people think words fix things and expect you to just get over anything that’s happened to you in the past to make you feel the way you do.
Like your feelings aren’t valid, regardless of where they came from.
It takes me back to hearing “I’m so sorry for your loss” or “you’re holding it together well.”
No, I wasn’t, but people only see whatever they want to see.
They say whatever makes them feel better, regardless of how it makes you feel.
No one willingly signs up for awkward conversations, and by the time you’ve heard “he’s in a better place” a hundred times, you learn to just shut up and smile.
“I’m not trying to fix you,” I say before I can stop myself.
Harlow turns fast, her breathing a bit ragged. “I didn’t say you were.”
“I know,” I say, exhaling. “I just…want you to know I’m not.”
Her stare holds mine, intense and guarded, yet begging someone to see her, all at the same time. Her eyes slide back down to the cup in her hands. “Everyone thinks they’re fixing. Or saving. Or protecting.”
My mind flashes to Kai. The hovering. The watching. The attempt to control outcomes, like outcomes can be controlled. I don’t say it out loud, but I feel it.
Harlow’s voice is quieter now. “Sometimes I feel like I’m always putting on some sort of performance. For everyone else’s benefit, but never my own.”
I swallow past the lump forming in my throat because I understand performance.
Not her version—mine.
The version where you smile for scouts and cameras and teammates and make it look easy while your head is a war zone of past life events that eat at you daily and all the decisions that lead you to that very moment.
“I get that,” I say low.
Harlow’s gaze flicks to me, cautious. “Do you?”
I nod once. “Yeah.”
She studies me, like she’s deciding whether to believe it.
Then, bluntly, “People tell me I’m too much.”
My body stills, not because it’s surprising that people could be so cruel, but because it lands too close to something I don’t want to think about. I don’t say anything right away. Harlow keeps going, quieter, like she’s surprised she’s talking at all.
“So, I learned how to be smaller,” she says. “How to…edit myself into the version of me others want to see.”
My stomach rocks, and my brain tries to run ahead. I drag it back by force, making myself stay here in the present with this beautiful, broken girl on the porch who is far braver than anyone gives her credit for.
“Sounds exhausting,” I finally manage.
Harlow laughs short. “It is.”
She tilts her head toward the yard. “Kai thinks he’s helping. In his mind, if he watches close enough, he can…” She cuts herself off. “Prevent things from happening.”
“Yeah,” I say quietly. “That’s Kai.”
She looks at me again. “You’re different than I expected.”
My brows lift. “Is that good or bad?”
Harlow hesitates, a grin playing on the edges of her mouth, and I want to see her smile for real. “Jury’s still out on that one, but so far, I think you’re leaning toward the good side.”
I snort. “Thanks. I’ll add that to my resume.”
And that, finally, earns me a real smile. It instantly has me grinning in response, and my brain does something dangerous. It rushes to catalog it. The way her smile softens her whole face. The way her eyes change and come back to life.
I look away, pretending I’m watching the fire pit. Inside, I’m unsettled with the realization that I want to be the reason she smiles again. And again and again.
Harlow’s smile fades like she realized she gave away too much.
She starts picking at her nails anxiously before looking toward the door. “I should go in.”
“You don’t have to,” I say automatically.
“Yes, I do.” Her eyes are wide now, panic starting to settle in more with each passing second, and I hate feeling like I added to her stress.
I nod. “Okay.”
She pushes off the railing, shoulders squaring like she’s pulling armor back on, at least to walk back through the house.
She’s a great actor too.
Before she reaches the door, she pauses.
Her voice is quiet, but her words hit me hard. “Thanks for…noticing me.”
Noticing her is exactly what I’ve been doing. Noticing the exit plans she creates in her mind. The flinches. The way she fights for small victories.
“Yeah,” I say. “Anytime.”
Harlow nods once and slips back inside. I stay on the porch a second longer, staring into the yard like my brain isn’t sprinting. The pieces are close enough to make my ribs feel tight, and that’s a big problem.
Because if my suspicion is even remotely right—if these patterns mean anything—
Then I’m not just pulled.
I’m trapped.
Kai’s trust on one side, her quiet on the other, and me standing in the middle, wanting to reach for something I’m not allowed to touch.
And the problem is that I can’t stop noticing Harlow Mercer.