Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
H arper
I stare down at Owen covered in half a rose bush, a long thorny bramble trailing behind him, mud on his hands and knees and blood running down his cheek.
“Are you okay?” I gasp. “What happened?”
“Argument with a rose bush.” He stumbles up to his feet, dabbing a ripped sleeve against the scratch on his face. “I came to see you, to talk to you, Harp.”
That explanation does not answer why he’s creeping around our garden in the dark looking like he does.
“Then why are …” I shake my head. “What exactly are you doing?”
“You’ve been avoiding me so I sneaked in,” he says, panting slightly as he hunches over his knees. There are muddy doggy paw prints on his chest and slobber on his face as well as the trickle of blood.
I giggle – the first time I have in days and days. I can’t help it. He looks like he’s gone stark raving mad. Then I remember this is dangerous. I have to stand firm and giggling with Owen in the dark backyard is dangerous stuff.
The giggle dies in my mouth and I swallow hard.
“I don’t think it’s a good idea to talk, Owen. We’ve already said everything there is to say. Going over it all again is just too darn painful.” I wave towards the pup. “Come on, Dee Dee. Let’s go get you your dinner.”
“Won’t you at least wait and talk to me? I just risked my neck, literally – have you seen how damn tall that wall is–”
“You scaled the wall?!”
“Yeah.”
“You are mad,” I say. “You know we have a working gate.”
“I’m mad about you, Harper. I’d scale fucking Mount Everest if it meant you’d talk to me.”
“Owen …” I plead, clicking my fingers towards the dog.
He trots my way.
“Death,” Owen says, whistling. He stops and swings his head towards the alpha. “Come on, boy.” He pats his thighs and the dog’s tail wags.
“Owen,” I say, “it’s his dinner time. And it’s a pretty low move to use Dee Dee against me.”
“I’m prepared to stoop low. Plus, he can spare a few minutes for a pat from his uncle. And while he’s enjoying a tummy rub, we can talk.”
Except Death has other ideas. Maybe he’s on my side in this whole matter. He’s certainly become pretty attached to me over the last few weeks. Instead of trotting towards Owen obediently, he comes belting at the alpha full pelt. Owen may be big, but so is Death and when he launches at the alpha, they both end up falling backwards into the dirt.
“Off,” Owen grunts as they hit the ground.
He attempts to roll up, but Death’s already standing on his torso and licking his face enthusiastically.
“Death, do you mind?” he mutters as the dog drags his slobbery tongue right over his mouth.
“He wants kisses,” I coo, “don’t you, Dee Dee?”
Owen mumbles some curse words and attempts to push Death away from his face. It only encourages the pup, who licks him with twice as much force and enthusiasm.
“Can you help me, please, Harper? I’m drowning in dog drool!”
I giggle a second time. “Dee Dee,” I call, “come here, boy!”
Death lifts his head, barks in joy and goes right back to licking Owen’s face.
“Did you roll in something?” I say. “You must taste really damn good.”
“No! He’s not usually this affection– Eww, Death! Seriously. Too invasive!” he mutters as the dog’s tongue strays into his mouth. Owen spends several seconds spitting and spluttering as Death licks at his ear next. “Death, dude, you need to brush your teeth. Your breath is rank!” He squeals as Death sticks his tongue right into his ear. “I was really hoping to talk to Harper here and you are not helping.”
“We can talk,” I say, “go right ahead.”
“It’s pretty darn impossible,” Owen says, wrestling with the dog’s muzzle, “when he won’t stop making out with me!”
I can’t help it – all the tension from the last few days rushes to the surface and releases in a burst of laughter.
But this is the problem with Owen. He’s so disarming. And no sooner am I laughing than I’m overwhelmed by a sense of devastation. I want to spend my life laughing with this man. And I can’t. It isn’t possible.
The laughter dies away. Death must sense my sudden sadness, because he halts his love in with Owen and comes darting my way, sitting right by my feet and leaning against my legs. I let out a long sigh as I fold myself over the dog and rub my knuckles against his sternum. He closed his eyes and drools right onto my sneakers.
“I don’t think talking will do either of us any good,” I mutter.
“Do you love us, Harp?” he asks me.
I screw my eyes closed. Pain spirals through my heart.
“Please don’t ask me that, Owen. Please don’t make this any more painful than it already is.” I peer over my shoulder, back towards the house, and lower my voice to a whisper. “We can’t be together. I can’t be responsible for ruining your lives just like I ruined my mom’s!” I blurt out, the tears of laughter turning to ones of sadness in an instant. Because this is hopeless. All too hopeless.
“What?” he says, confused. “How is Melanie’s life ruined? She has a life most women would dream of, I’m sure. Wealthy, handsome, charming husband. Beautiful home. Even more beautiful daughter.”
I shake my head. “You don’t understand. Before she met Ethan, her life was hell. It was just awful.”
“Was it?” he says, still confused.
“Yes, we lived in a shitty apartment, she worked horrendous hours just to put food on the table, she had no time for friends or hobbies. No extra money for vacations or nice clothes. Every day was a struggle.”
He clambers up from the ground. “That’s not how your mom described it to me,” he says.
“What?” I say, sniffing. “What do you mean?”
“I’ve spoken to your mom about being a nurse. She told me she loved her job. That some days she really regrets giving it up. That she’s tempted to start practicing again because she misses it so much.” He smiles at me. “It’s why she likes us coming round and filling her in on all the hospital gossip.”
“She does?” I wipe the back of my hand under my nose.
“Yeah, and she told me she loved your old apartment,” he continues. “She loved that it was snug and homely and sometimes she wishes their current place wasn’t so big and empty. She misses that old life. She misses you.” He dips his head and meets my gaze. “Your mom loves you, Harper, you must know that.”
“She can love me. It doesn’t mean I didn’t ruin her life,” I say stubbornly.
“I’m sure things were very hard at times. The best things in life often are the hardest. If you had a baby, you’d love it, right? No matter how hard or difficult things got.”
“Of course.”
“So, don’t you think it was exactly the same for your mom?”
I hesitate. “I guess.”
“No need to guess, it is obvious in the way your mom talks about you,” he says.
I sniff again. “But it’s different between us. Our love isn’t unconditional like it is between a parent and a child.”
“Really? It’s always felt pretty unconditional to me,” Owen says.
“Even if you lose your job? If you lose your career?”
“If that were to happen – and that’s a big if–” he starts to argue, but then there’s the sound of a door opening behind us.
“Harper!” my step-dad calls out into the darkness. “Are you all right out there? Is Death causing you mischief?”
I swallow again, schooling my emotions and my voice. “He just found something he really really wanted to lick. He’s come to me now. I’ll bring him right in.”
“Something he wanted to lick? I hope it wasn’t coyote shit!”
“I don’t think so,” I call back. “I’ll be right there.” I swing my gaze back to Owen. He is wiping at his face and his beard. “I’m sorry, Owen, but I’ve got to go,” I tell him, “if they catch you sneaking around in the garden…”
“Just think about what I said, okay, Harper? Promise me that.”
I hesitate, before nodding. Then I grab a hold of Death’s collar and usher him inside.
As I feed him and Terror their dinner a couple of minutes later, I realize Death is drenched in Owen’s scent, clear even above that distinct doggy odor.
Moss.
I close my eyes and lean back against the wall.
His scent makes my skin tingle and my mouth buzz. Memories float through my mind and I wish I could bask in them and not be here in the present, because here in the present I’m more confused than I’ve ever been.
I thought I was doing the right thing.
I thought I was saving the people I loved from a lifetime of misery.
Now I just don’t know.