9. Harper #2
"Really?" Lila's face lit up with genuine excitement. "That would be nice. I've only ever had female advice from Grandmother."
As they rose from the porch swing and headed back into the estate, Harper had the unsettling feeling that she was crossing another professional line. Helping a client get ready for a social event wasn't exactly standard therapeutic practice. But something about it felt right, natural even.
Maybe it's a little too much bonding, she thought as they climbed the stairs together, Lila chattering excitedly about what to wear. But sometimes healing happens outside the textbook.
Two hours melted away like snow in spring sunshine as Harper found herself swept into the surprisingly intimate ritual of helping Lila prepare for her evening out.
The girl's bedroom had transformed into a whirlwind of discarded clothing options and animated chatter about which lip gloss would look best with her chosen sweater.
Harper discovered that beneath Lila's trauma lay a vibrant seventeen-year-old who'd simply been buried under months of fear and isolation.
"What about this one?" Lila held up a soft lavender cardigan against her frame, studying her reflection in the antique mirror that dominated one wall.
"Perfect," Harper agreed, noting how the color brought out the blue in Lila's eyes. "It's casual enough for the diner but still pretty for the basketball game."
Lila beamed at the approval, and Harper felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name. This felt less like professional counseling and more like the sister relationship she'd never had growing up as an only child in a house where survival took precedence over bonding.
Harper stood up and smoothed down her own sweater. "I'm going to freshen up and I'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes."
"Alright, Harper. Thanks for everything," Lila said with a soft smile.
Exactly fifteen minutes later, standing in the grand foyer beneath the crystal chandelier that cast rainbow prisms across the polished floors, Harper smoothed her own dark jeans and red sweater.
She'd chosen comfort over style, but something about the way the soft wool hugged her curves made her feel more feminine than usual.
Not that it matters, she reminded herself firmly. Dorian's been conspicuously absent all day.
For someone who'd barely let Lila out of his sight for months, his complete disappearance felt oddly significant.
"Here." Lila appeared at the bottom of the staircase, dangling a set of keys that caught the light. "Dorian wants you to drive."
Harper stared at the keys—heavy, well-worn, attached to a simple leather fob that smelled faintly of pine.
"You know," Lila continued with a knowing smile. "Dorian's never let anyone except me drive his truck. Ever. So this is..." She tilted her head, studying Harper with those too-perceptive blue-gray eyes. "Very interesting."
Heat crept up Harper's neck as she accepted the keys. "He probably just wants you to focus on enjoying your friends instead of worrying about driving at night."
But even as the rational explanation left her lips, Harper's pulse quickened. Dorian trusting her with something so personal felt significant in ways she didn't want to examine.
"Right," Lila said, drawing the word out with obvious skepticism. "Just practical."
The October evening air carried the crisp bite of approaching winter as they stepped onto the front porch. Harper's breath misted slightly as Lila locked the front door behind them. Then they turned and descended the steps toward the black pickup truck that dominated the gravel driveway.
The moment Harper slid behind the wheel and closed the door, Dorian's scent enveloped her like a physical embrace, making her lungs seize and her fingers tremble slightly on the steering wheel. The leather seat still held the impression of his body, and she found herself sinking into it.
Why does his scent seem even stronger today?
The thought surfaced unbidden, followed immediately by the memory of his mouth on hers, the way he'd tasted like something wild that had made her forget every reason she shouldn't want him.
"You okay?" Lila buckled her seatbelt, watching Harper with curious eyes.
"Fine." Harper cleared her throat and started the engine, grateful for the distraction of Lila's cheerful directions toward town. "Just adjusting to the truck."
The drive passed quickly, filled with Lila's excited chatter about Sophie and Courtney, how they'd been friends since elementary school, how much she'd missed their easy friendship these past months.
Harper found herself smiling at the girl's enthusiasm, remembering her own teenage years when friendship had felt like the most important thing in the world.
Within minutes, the diner glowed with warm yellow light against the deepening twilight, and Harper pulled into the parking lot with ease. Through the large windows, she could see the waitress moving between tables, and her heart gave an unexpected flutter of belonging.
This place is starting to feel familiar.
"I'll keep my distance," Harper promised as they both climbed out of the truck. "I won't hover."
Lila's smile was radiant. "Thank you, Harper."
Harper watched as Lila practically bounced through the diner's front door, immediately engulfed in squeals of delight from two girls who'd clearly been waiting for her arrival.
The pure joy on Lila's face as she hugged her friends made Harper's chest tight with emotion.
Two counseling sessions, and this traumatized girl was reaching toward life again, reconnecting with pieces of herself she'd thought were lost.
Don't take too much credit, Harper warned herself, but she couldn't deny the satisfaction that bloomed in her chest. Her presence here was making a difference.
Once inside the diner, the familiar waitress greeted Harper with a warm smile. "Where's Dorian tonight?"
"Working," Harper replied, settling into a corner booth where she could observe Lila's table without being intrusive. "I'm just supervising Lila and her friends."
"How sweet of you." The woman's eyes crinkled with approval. "It's wonderful to finally see that girl out and about again. We've all been so worried."
An hour later, Harper caught Lila's eye across the restaurant and nodded—their prearranged signal that it was time to head to the basketball game.
The girls giggled and chattered as they piled into Dorian's truck, their excitement infectious despite Harper's determination to maintain professional boundaries.
Five minutes later, the high school parking lot was nearly full, warm light spilling from the gymnasium windows and the sound of a pep band drifting across the asphalt. Harper parked near the building's entrance and turned to face the girls.
"Have fun," she said simply. "I'll be right here when you're ready to leave."
"Thanks again, Harper." Lila's gratitude was genuine as the three friends tumbled out of the truck and disappeared into the building, arms linked and voices bright.
Alone in the parking lot, Harper settled back against the leather seat and pulled out her phone.
She scrolled through it, and there right at the top of her favorites list, Dorian's contact information stood out like a declaration.
Her thumb hovered over his name, and that strange flutter returned to her chest.
I should call him. Tell him everything's going well.
But the memory of their kiss, of the way she'd fled from him like a coward, made her hesitate. Distance seemed safer right now, at least until she could figure out why being near him made her feel so exposed.
An hour passed slowly. Harper scrolled through emails, checked the weather, anything to keep her mind occupied. But sitting in Dorian's truck, surrounded by his scent, made concentration impossible. Finally, she couldn't stand the confined space any longer.
The evening air was sharp and clean as she stepped out of the truck, stretching muscles that had grown stiff from sitting. A short walk would help clear her head and pass the time until Lila was ready to leave.
Harper had only made it a block from the school when the first low growl reached her ears.
She froze, every survival instinct her childhood had taught her suddenly screaming warnings.
The sound was too deep, too menacing to be a loose dog.
Her eyes swept the darkened street, noting how few streetlights illuminated this residential area, how empty the sidewalks were with everyone either at the game or safely inside their homes.
Turn around. Get back to the truck. Now.
But as Harper spun to retrace her steps, two massive shapes emerged from the shadows between houses. Wolves. Not the sleek, domesticated animals she'd seen in nature documentaries, but something wild and predatory that made her blood turn to ice.
Their eyes gleamed in the dim light as they padded closer, cutting off her path back to safety. Harper's heart hammered against her ribs as she realized the truth with crystal clarity—she was completely alone, outmatched, and no one knew where she was.