Chapter Thirteen
Harper
Pierce helps me into the back of the cab, getting in beside me, and leaning forward to give the driver his address, before he sits back with me and lets out a sigh.
We’re both clutching our helmets and are still soaked through, but otherwise we’re unhurt… although I haven’t stopped shaking. Pierce is clearly aware of that, and releases my hand, putting his arm around me, letting me rest my head on his shoulder. We’re exhausted, but he kisses the top of my head and holds me tight as the driver takes us back to Hart’s Creek.
Brady came in while we were being checked over, just to make sure we were okay. He stopped with me first, looking concerned when he saw me.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to call your mom and dad?”
“I’m positive. They’d be bound to panic and rush back, but we’re both fine.”
He hesitated for a moment and then nodded his head. “As long as you’re sure.”
“Absolutely.” He smiled and glanced down at his watch. “You’re worried about Laurel, aren’t you?” I said, and he looked up at me again.
“Does it show?”
“Just a little. I’m sorry we’ve kept you out so late.”
“It’s not your fault,” he said and ducked around the curtain to see Pierce. Because we were in adjacent beds, though, I could hear everything they said.
“I need to give you this back,” was how Brady started the conversation, and while I didn’t know what he was talking about, it soon became clear.
“My phone,” Pierce said, like it was a revelation. “I’d forgotten all about that.”
“It was still attached to stand on the bike, and is remarkably intact. I thought you might need it… and speaking of the bike.” Brady’s voice dropped a note or two. “I’m sorry,” he said.
“Why?”
“I may never have been a fan of it, but there’s no way anyone’s ever gonna ride it again. It meant a lot to you, I know, but it’s history.”
“That’s okay.”
I was surprised by how well Pierce was taking the news, and wished I could see him, regretting the curtain they’d pulled between us.
“We’ve arrested the truck driver,” Brady said. “And I’ve taken Gabe Sullivan’s statement already. Unfortunately, I’m gonna need one from both of you, too.”
“Okay. Do we need to do that now?”
“No,” Brady said. “I think you’ve both had enough for one night. Can you come into my office?”
“When?”
“Monday or Tuesday would be fine.”
“No problem.”
I heard Brady sigh. “And now, I think I’m gonna go home. Laurel’s gonna think I’ve forgotten where I live.”
There was a moment’s silence and then Pierce said, “I overheard what Harley just said. Is there a reason you’re worried about Laurel?”
“Only that she’s four months pregnant,” Brady said, and I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Really? I didn’t realize.”
“No. Most people don’t. Obviously, Harley knows because of her job, but we’re keeping it quiet until we’ve told Addy.”
“And when are you gonna do that?” Pierce asked.
“Soon. We were waiting until we knew the sex of the new baby, and now we do—”
“You do?”
“Yeah. We found out yesterday… it’s a girl.” I could only imagine how thrilled Brady was about that, and I smiled to myself as I heard him swear Pierce to secrecy, at least for now, before he wished us both goodnight and walked away.
Fortunately, the doctor didn’t take too long to declare us fit. I think we already knew that, but it was good to have it confirmed, although he warned us we might suffer from bruising.
“You may not notice anything for a day or two,” he said. I noticed his name tag read ‘Dr Hudson Moss’, with several sets of letters after it, and that he was tall, with short dark hair, and a handsome face, although I was more interested in what he had to say. “If it happens, you can just take over-the-counter pain meds, should you need them.”
We both nodded. Pierce was out of bed and standing beside me, holding my hand by that stage, and I looked up at him.
“I’ve got some at home,” he whispered, smiling down at me, and I nodded my head.
After that, he returned to his own bed, closing the curtain while we both got dressed. We’d been told to remove our clothes when we got there, the nurses giving us hospital gowns to put on instead, and although they asked if there was someone who could bring us in fresh clothing, neither of us could think of anyone. That meant pulling on cold, wet underwear, tops and jeans, which I have to say, was a horrible experience.
The cab stops and I startle back to reality, looking out the window at my parents’ antiques store. It’s dark now, although I don’t know what the time is, and I honestly don’t care. Pierce pays the guy, then helps me from the car, waiting until the driver has pulled away before he looks down into my face, holding me tight against him.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“I’ll be a lot better when I can get out of these clothes.”
“I know the feeling,” he says, smiling, as he leans in and kisses the tip of my nose, before he leads me around the back. I nestle against him, enjoying the feeling of being close, even though I’m still struggling with my shaking limbs. They won’t seem to stop, although I think that might be as much because I’m cold as because of the shock of what happened.
We pass through the rear lobby to Pierce’s door and he lets us in, both of us putting our helmets on the floor at the bottom of the stairs. I look at the first tread, and then the second, my eyes drifting upward on a long sigh.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
“Nothing… it’s just that I never thought I’d look at a set of stairs and feel so defeated.”
He smiles. “Here…” he says, and bends, lifting me into his arms before he carries me up to the second floor. I know I ought to object. It’s only a set of stairs, after all, and I should be strong enough to climb up them. But the thing is, I’m not. And I don’t have the energy to object to anything.
Once we get to the top, Pierce switches on the lights and goes into the living area, putting me down beside the couch.
“We need to eat something,” he says, glancing around. “Although I think the priority should be getting out of these wet things.” I look up at him, nodding my head, recalling my thoughts earlier this evening, when I wondered what might happen between us while we waited for our clothes to dry. It was such a tempting thought, but I feel less sure about it now. I don’t feel any less sure of Pierce, or my feelings for him, and I’m not in any kind of pain. It’s just that I’m really shaky, and I need to be held more than anything. “Give me a minute,” he says before I get the chance to tell him that, and he turns around, going into his bedroom.
I know it’s his bedroom, because I’ve been here before, although not for some time. Not since he moved in, anyway. He usually comes to fetch me, or we meet up after work, so it’s been a while since I’ve stood here. Even so, I take a moment, glancing around properly, to take a look at the way he’s decorated the place. When he moved in, the walls were painted in a very neutral cream. Now they’re pale gray. He’s hung several of his pictures around the place, too. They’re mostly seascapes, and I smile, admiring them. The coloring all goes really well with the furniture. That belongs to my parents, the couch being a charcoal color, which Pierce has accented with bright orange pillows, scattered along its length, and a pale gray throw, which is folded over the back. The table is set to one side, over by the wall, instead of in front of the window, like it used to be, although I think it looks better like this. The kitchen hasn’t changed at all, separated from the living area by a breakfast bar, with four seats on this side. Pierce keeps the place tidy, with very few things cluttering the white countertop. There’s a knife block, and a couple of bottles of oil, and one of vinegar, I think, alongside salt and pepper mills, and in the far corner, a coffee machine. That’s it. My mom’s kitchen is far more cluttered than this, which either means Pierce doesn’t like to cook, or he’s a very tidy man. I have no idea which. And that’s odd. Having known him for as long as I have, I ought to understand him better… but I don’t. And that’s something I need to work on.
No… it’s something I want to work on.
“Here we go,” Pierce says, coming back out of his bedroom, carrying a dark blue robe. He’s taken off his jacket, although his t-shirt is wet and clinging to every muscle as he walks over, standing in front of me. “I’ll go change,” he says. “You put this on. Unless you wanna shower?”
I shake my head. “I don’t have the energy.”
“Neither do I.” He smiles down at me as he dumps his robe on the couch, resting his hands on my shoulders before he bends his head and kisses me just briefly.
His eyes don’t leave mine, even as he walks backwards into his room, although he doesn’t close the door behind him, leaving a small gap. I like that. Being completely separated from him feels wrong… so wrong, I’m tempted to follow him. Except I’m too cold to even put one foot in front of the other, and my legs are shaking, too, so I slip out of my jacket, gasping at the sight of the tears in the sleeves. I didn’t notice them before, but I let my fingers run over the slices in the fabric, feeling the padding below, grateful it was there.
I let it drop to the floor, then take off my boots and jeans, sitting on the couch in the end to tug them from my damp, frozen legs. My t-shirt and underwear are all wet. There’s no way I can keep them on and not still feel a chill, so I quickly remove them too, struggling a little with my bra, before pulling on Pierce’s robe. It’s way too big, but is so cozy and warm, and it smells of him. I pull it around myself, fastening the tie at my waist, and then I pull out my braid, running my fingers through my damp hair, just as Pierce calls, “Are you decent?”
“Yes.”
He comes out wearing gray sweatpants and a white t-shirt… the same as the one he had on just now, but dry. His tattoos are on display, as is his growing arousal, and he pulls down his t-shirt at the front, snagging my attention, and making me smile. He smiles back, because we both know why he did that, and then he comes over.
“Sorry to be so obvious,” he says, and I have to chuckle, recalling our conversation when we were down by the creek.
“I don’t mind.” Actually, I kinda like it.
He looks down at the pile of clothes by my feet before he bends and picks them up. I guess that means we’re done with talking about the ‘obvious’, and in a way, I kinda like that, too. It feels normal… and we could use something ‘normal’.
“I’ll put these in the dryer,” he says, holding out my clothes.
“Okay… but not my jacket.”
He nods, wandering to the table and putting it over the back of one of the chairs before he goes to the closet beside the bathroom, opening it to reveal a washing machine with a dryer stacked on top, which he opens, putting my clothes inside and switching it on.
As he comes back, his eyes rake up and down my body, his head tilting to one side and a slow smile forming on his lips.
“My robe never looked that good on me,” he says, resting his hands on my waist, and I smile up at him. I lean against his chest and he holds me close.
“I’m sure I look a mess. My hair…”
“Looks fabulous,” he says.
“No, it doesn’t.”
“It looks fabulous to me. Are you okay?” he asks, and although he’s posed this question too many times already, I don’t mind, and I’m happy to answer… truthfully.
“I’m not too bad. Still a little shaky, I guess, but a lot better for being here, and being warm and dry.”
“That’s good,” he says, leaning back. “Now… let’s find something to eat, shall we?”
It’s getting late, but he’s not wrong. We need to eat, and I let him pull me into the kitchen and stand to one side as he opens the freezer, bending to look inside.
“You’ve got a pizza there,” I say, and he glances up at me.
“You feel like pizza?”
“It’ll be quick.”
He nods his head, pulling it out, and once he’s removed it from the box, I study it, noticing it’s a thin-crust, twelve-inch supreme, covered with marinara sauce, Italian sausage, pepperoni, bell peppers, black olives and onions. My stomach rumbles and Pierce turns, chuckling.
“Can I take it you’re hungry?” he says.
“A little.”
“And my choice of pizza is to your taste?”
“Absolutely.”
He puts it into the oven, setting the timer for fifteen minutes, and then he pours two glasses of soda, leading us back into the living room, where he waits for me to sit. I do so, in the corner of the couch, pulling the robe closed, before he hands me a glass and sits beside me.
“Did you hear what Brady said?” he asks, taking a sip of his drink and then putting his glass on the low table in front of us.
“Which part? About Laurel having a baby girl, or about us giving statements, or about your bike?”
“You already knew about Laurel, so…”
“I didn’t know she was expecting a girl,” I say. “Although I imagine Brady was pleased.”
“He seemed to be. Why? Was that what he wanted?”
“Yeah. Evidently.”
“That could explain why he’s so happy. Although I imagine he’ll be fairly pleased that my bike is off the road. He’s never liked it.”
“Maybe not,” I say. “But you do. So, what are you going to do about it?”
He shifts a little closer, pulling me into his arms, and I nestle against him. “It’s insured,” he says. “So I guess I’ll make a claim, and get a payout… eventually.”
“And you’ll buy another bike?” I ask, twisting around and looking up at him.
He shakes his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “No. I’ll put it toward buying a car. My riding days are over, babe.”
I sit forward, freeing myself from his arms, and put my drink down next to his before I look back at him, tilting my head. “You can’t say that. Riding is a part of who you are, Pierce.”
“It was, but it isn’t anymore.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I nearly lost you tonight.”
I take his hand in mine. “No. You saved me.”
He sits forward, shaking his head. “Even if I did, there may come a time when I can’t… when something happens outside of my control.” He puts his arm around me again. “I’m not willing to take that chance, babe.”
I lean up, kissing his cheek. “I’m not willing to take that chance, either.”
He twists in his seat, clasping my cheeks between his hands and closes the gap between us, his lips crushed to mine. This is the first time he’s really kissed me – kissed me like he meant it – since the accident, and I think he’s just realized that, too. His breathing changes, and he deepens the kiss, groaning into my mouth as he pulls me back down onto the couch with him. I’m pretty sure the robe must be gaping, if not falling open, but I don’t care. Pierce doesn’t do anything about it, and even if he did, I still wouldn’t mind. I need this, and so does he, our bodies fused as the sounds of our moans and sighs fill the room. I don’t want this to end, and it seems he doesn’t, either, as he just keeps on kissing me, his lips never leaving mine as his hands roam up and down my back, over my hips, around to my ass, and down my thighs. He explores me through the robe, his fingers touching every inch of me, until he finally pulls back.
“You’re still shaking,” he says.
“I know.” Even my lips are trembling now.
“You’re safe, Harley. You know that, don’t you?”
“Yes. I’ve even warmed up.”
“Warmed up?” he says, smiling. “You’re too damned hot to be described as warm.”
I lean back slightly, as a thought suddenly occurs and I look up into his perfect face, wondering if I should say anything, but knowing I have to. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Did you used to say things like that to the other women? The ones who weren’t right for you?” I ask, using his words, rather than trying to think of my own.
“You mean, did I call them hot?”
“Yes.”
He frowns, like he’s thinking. “I might have done, in the heat of something intimate, but not like this… not just sitting around, kissing. Although I can’t remember just sitting around and kissing, to be honest.”
“So you’ve always just… cut to the chase?” I ask, intrigue getting the better of my ability to find a better way to phrase that.
“Not necessarily. Just in case I haven’t made this clear before, I haven’t slept with every woman I’ve dated.”
“I’m kinda relieved about that. I know how many of them there have been.”
I smile up at him, so he knows I’m not upset or angry, although he still whispers, “Sorry,” and I rest my head against his chest.
“It’s okay. I’m only asking because… well, I suppose I want to know I’m different.”
He shakes his head, like he can’t believe I said that. “You couldn’t be any more different. I promise. But I don’t want you to worry about what’s gone before. It’s like I said, I was wasting my time, looking for perfection, when it was here, right in front of me, all the time.”
“I’m not perfect.”
“Yes, you are. At the risk of repeating myself, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted… and that makes you perfect.”
“If you insist. But I’m not worried about your past. Not really.”
“Good. Because you’re my future. And I love you so fucking much. Sorry about my language, but I really, really love you, and I don’t know how else to say it.”
“I don’t care how you say it, as long as it’s true.”
“Oh, it’s true, babe. Believe me.”
“I do.”
I gaze into his eyes, closing them slowly as he leans down to kiss me, feeling his lips brush over mine, gently dusting back and forth, although my eyes spring open at the sound of the timer, buzzing to let us know our pizza is ready.
Pierce pulls back, licking his lips and letting out a sigh that sounds like regret.
“Stay here,” he says. “I won’t be long.”
I nod my head, sitting back into the couch as he wanders to the kitchen, and I take a moment to pull the robe closed again, before turning and watching Pierce slice the pizza.
He piles it up onto one large plate, bringing it back with him, and sitting down, parting his legs, so I can nestle between them. Then we curl up together, me balancing the plate on my lap, while he holds me with one arm, eating with the other.
“Shall we watch a movie?” he says, and I nod my head, feeling the need for some kind of distraction… not just from wanting more than his kisses, but from the memories of everything that happened earlier. I’d rather just watch something mindless and enjoy being with him.
“That sounds good.”
“Any preferences?” he asks, reaching for the remote.
“No. As long as it’s not too loud.”
He smiles at me, glancing back at the TV and scrolling a little before he stops, and says, “Actually, I’ve been re-watching the first season of Reacher . We could carry on with that, if you like?”
“Sure.”
“Have you seen it?” he asks. “Because I don’t mind going back to the start, if you want.”
“No, it’s fine. I’ve seen all the episodes.” I twist slightly, looking up at him.
“So, you’re a fan?” he says.
“Yeah… who wouldn’t be?”
He smiles. “Can I assume it’s Alan Ritchson you admire, rather than the sparkling dialogue, or swift-moving plot line?”
“Maybe,” I say, and he chuckles, making my body jiggle up and down.
“Should I be jealous?” he asks, still smiling.
I put the plate on the table, and turn over, running my hand up his arm, then across his chest, letting it linger there for a second or two before I say, “No. You have far more exciting… attributes.”
“Do I?” he says, clamping his arms tight around me.
“Yes. Except…”
“Except what?”
“It feels… well, it feels wrong to objectify you. Or Alan Ritchson, for that matter. It’s shallow to judge someone based on how they look.”
“Yeah, it is… if that’s the only basis for your opinion. Which it isn’t, is it?”
“No.”
“And in any case,” he says, kissing the tip of my nose, “although I can’t speak for Alan Ritchson, I don’t have a problem with it. As far as I’m concerned, you can objectify to your heart’s content, baby.”
I giggle and he kisses my lips this time, keeping it brief before he flips me around again, and presses ‘play’ on the remote.
“Which episode are we watching?” I ask, reaching out to grab the plate and put it on my lap again.
“Three.”
“Okay.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to go back to episode one?”
“No, it’s fine.”
He takes another slice of pizza, pulling me a little closer to him, which feels nice. His arousal is still there, pressing into me, but I like that. I like that I turn him on. It’s what he does to me, and I relish the feeling of his arm around me, and his muscular chest behind me, letting out a slight sigh of satisfaction as I nibble on my pizza.
After a few minutes, Pierce sits up just a little and says, “How do you know Gabe Sullivan?”
I look around at him and smile. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of him as well as Alan Ritchson?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head, trying not to smile. “I just wondered how you knew him.”
“He’s one of Doctor Dodds’s patients,” I say. “Him and his wife. And I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you anything more than that.”
“That’s okay,” he says. “I’m not being nosy. It’s just I noticed he seemed to go a little quiet when he realized who you were.”
“Yeah. There’s a reason for that. He probably didn’t like being reminded of their most recent visit to the doctor’s office.”
He tightens his grip on me. “There’s nothing wrong, is there? With him, or his wife?”
“I can’t tell you, Pierce. I’m not allowed.”
“Okay.”
He nods his head, although I can see he’s troubled, and I lean up just slightly and whisper, “They’re having a few problems, but neither of them is sick. Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah, it does. Thanks for telling me.”
“I didn’t want you to worry.”
“Thanks.”
“You were worried, weren’t you?”
“Yeah. He was a nice guy.”
“I agree, although I don’t know him or his wife very well. I’ve only seen them a few times… and not in the best of circumstances.”
He dips his head and kisses me before we both get back to eating and watching TV. We’ve missed quite a lot of the episode, but it doesn’t matter. We both know what happens, and although it’s nice to have some vague noise in the background, I think we’re both more interested in each other than anything else.
The pizza is delicious, and we finish all of it, except a couple of crusts, after which Pierce takes the plate out to the kitchen, putting it into the dishwasher.
“Do you want another drink?” he asks.
“No, thanks.”
He comes back and collects the glasses, but this time he leaves them by the sink before returning and sitting beside me, his elbows resting on his knees.
“I’ve realized it would have made more sense if I’d asked the cab driver to take us back to your place,” he says.
“Why? We’d already decided to come back here.”
He tips his head. “I know. But I have no way of getting you home, do I? I did then. I still had my bike. But now…”
“Oh. I see what you mean. Except, it was a cab that brought us here, so…”
He smiles. “Yeah, I get what you’re saying. It would be easy for me to call a cab to take you home again. I’d thought of that already. But the thing is, I don’t want to.”
“You don’t?”
“No. I don’t wanna let you go, Harley.” My breath catches in my throat, and I guess he must have heard, or noticed, because he twists around and takes my hands in his. “What happened earlier… it scared me. To be honest, I’ve never been so frightened in my life, and I can’t stand the thought of you being somewhere else tonight, other than right beside me. We don’t have to do anything, but I need to hold you and know you’re safe.”
I move a little closer to him. “Of course I’m safe,” I say. “I’m with you.”
“Oh… Harley.” He reaches out and places his finger beneath my chin, tipping my head back as he dips his, and lets our lips meet. I need more than this, and without breaking the kiss, I kneel up and straddle him, just like I did earlier, the thoughts taking me back to that moment beside the creek, although they quickly drag me forward again to those few seconds when the asphalt came up toward me, and I was spinning, out of control. My body shudders and Pierce instantly breaks the kiss and pulls back. “Are you okay?”
“No. No, I’m not.”
“Tell me,” he says.
“I—I just had a flash of memory about the crash. Everything happened so fast at the time, but in my head, just then, it all slowed down. I could see the lights, the road surface, the leaves on the trees… even the blades of grass beside the road. It was all so clear…”
“Hey…” He sits back, pulling me with him and holds my body tight against his. “I’ve got you.”
“I know you have. But I like hearing you say it.”
I close my eyes for a second and instantly see headlamps, feeling myself spinning, as I open my eyes and focus on his face again. “Try not to think about it,” he says, like he knows what’s going on inside my head. “I know it’s not easy, but…”
“Can you help me?”
“Help you what?”
“To not think about it?” I lean in and kiss him. “Can you help me forget?”
He puts one hand behind my head, leaving the other on my ass, and holds me still, tilting his head to one side as he kisses me, harder than ever. His tongue finds mine, flickering inside my mouth, and I moan softly against him as he flexes his hips upward and I feel his arousal, long and hard, pressing against my very core. I cling to his shoulders, kneeling up slightly, and then lower myself back onto him, grinding my hips as I do.
“Fuck, yeah…” he whispers into my mouth, moving his hand from the back of my head and nudging the robe from my shoulder, his fingers dusting over my skin. I shudder against him, and he stops. “Sorry,” he says, looking into my eyes.
“Why?”
“I got a little carried away.”
“So did I, so there’s no need to apologize.” I bite on my bottom lip, still unsure how to tell him what I want, but knowing I have to try. “I like this,” I say, letting my hands slide down to his chest.
“Good. I like it too.”
“Can we do something… more?”
His eyes widen, his lips twisting upward into a smile. “You want to?”
“Yes. It’s what I’ve wanted all along. Even when you were giving me a way out down by the creek, I didn’t wanna take it. I just wanted you.”
He leans away, looking into my eyes. “I wasn’t sure you were ready… after what happened with Kaiden.”
“You’re not Kaiden.”
“No, I’m not.”
“And after everything that’s happened tonight, I really need you, Pierce. I need you more than ever.”