Chapter 44
T hey decided to leave the dishes for later and run off some of the food with a friendly football game. As with all Garrison games, the friendly pick-up fun quickly turned into a skirmish.
Harper, Luke, Aldo, and Gloria squared off in the backyard against Ty, Sophie, and James while everyone else hunkered down in front of the TV to watch football or fall asleep.
After a few leisurely jogs down the “field,” Harper felt her spirits lift.
Safely out of Claire’s earshot, the siblings trash-talked playfully. James scored an early touchdown, and Luke criticized Harper’s defense, so on the next long bomb Ty threw, Harper was ready. She jumped on James’s back and hung on for dear life as he caught the ball.
With his free hand, James spun her around to his front and tossed her over his shoulder. He took off, unhindered by the extra weight, and didn’t stop until he was in the end zone next to Harper’s garden.
He spun her around in circles as she laughed.
“Oh my God, put me down or I’m going to barf on you,” she gasped.
Her feet no sooner hit the ground before Luke slammed into James like a runaway school bus. He shoved his younger brother back a pace.
“What the hell, man?” James shoved back. In the span of a second, they were on the ground wrestling.
“Luke!” Harper’s sharp tone did nothing to break it up.
Sophie smacked Ty in the chest. “What are you waiting for, Mr. Law and Order? Get in there and break it up.”
“Soph, I just ate three plates of turkey. I can’t bend over.”
“For the love of—” Aldo charged into the fray and dragged Luke off James. “Knock it off,” he ordered, pushing Luke over to the patio. “Cool off before you make a bigger ass of yourself.”
“What’s your problem?” James looked more confused than pissed off.
Harper crossed her arms against the November chill. “He’s been drinking. A lot,” she said. “I don’t know what’s going on with him.”
Sophie shook her head. “You better find out before Mom catches wind of this. She’ll want to hook him up with a therapist next.”
“That’s way worse than a spanking,” Aldo said.
Harper sighed and crossed the yard to Luke. He was sitting on the picnic table examining a cut on the back of his right hand. He stared as a trickle of blood rolled off his hand onto the brick of the patio.
“Come on inside. I’ll clean that up for you,” she said, reaching for him.
He pulled back. “I can take care of it.”
Harper leaned in. “Don’t be an asshole. You’ve got two choices. You either go upstairs with me now to get this cleaned up, or I let Sophie tell your mom you just tried to tear your brother’s head off at Thanksgiving because his team was beating yours.”
“He had his hands all over you.”
“That’s bullshit, and it’s not going to go over any better with Claire. Let’s go.”
The muscle in his jaw ticked, but he got up and followed her inside.
In their bathroom upstairs, she gently cleaned the cut with soap and water. “I can do this myself,” he grumbled.
Harper ignored him and taped a piece of gauze over the wound.
“What? So now you’re pissed at me?”
“Now? More like still,” she said coolly.
“What the hell do you have to be pissed about? You got everything you wanted. ”
He stood up, towering over her. Hands on hips, Harper went toe to toe with him.
“I don’t know what is going on in that head of yours, but I’m guessing the beer and wine didn’t help. I’m pissed because once again you can’t be bothered to talk to me. What is going on with you? Is it coming home? Joni? Me? I’m not a freaking mind reader.” She poked him in the chest.
“You’re upset about something, and it’s probably valid. But instead of talking to me about it, you just want to wallow in it and lash out. That’s what I’m pissed off about.”
She wiped her hands on the towel and threw it back on the counter. “So either go find someone to talk to or find some way to deal with it. Don’t take it out on everyone else.”
Harper made a move to brush past him but found herself caged against the vanity and between Luke’s arms.
She lifted her chin and stared him in the eye. For a second, she caught a glimpse of something beyond sadness. And then it was gone, and he was crushing his mouth to hers with a need so intense it stole her breath.
“Goddammit. Why do you do this to me?” Luke asked as his lips roamed her face. His hands streaked under her sweater. Busy fingers cruised to the front closure of her bra and flicked it open.
He filled his hands with her breasts and brought his mouth to hers.
They moaned together.
He slid a hand into the waistband of her yoga pants, fingers sliding over her slick folds and into her heat.
“I hate how much I want you.” His fingers drove into her tight center, and she gasped at the invasion. His erection begged to be released.
He drove into her again and again, spreading her thighs further apart with his knee. She wanted to stay angry, but her body didn’t care. When Luke’s hands were on her, nothing else mattered .
“Luke!” Her breathy moan brought him back, and he pulled his fingers out of her. Dropping his forehead to hers, he tried to catch his breath.
“Why do you let me use you like this?”
And with that, he pushed back and left the room.
Harper’s knees shook, and she leaned against the sink for support. Use her? Is that what he thought he was doing?
It was hours before everyone left. But not before every plate, dish, and bowl were spotless and put back in their rightful places. Lola and Max took care of any floor cleanup and helped themselves to the secret plate of turkey that Charlie put under the dining room table for them.
Night had fallen, and Harper sat down with a cup of coffee in the kitchen to fight the exhaustion of an early rising and a full day of chaos. She was physically and mentally exhausted.
Luke had stopped drinking after their encounter upstairs. He had withdrawn to the living room where he remained, watching TV.
How long could he live like this before he broke down and talked to her about what was going on in his head?
A stack of envelopes shoved against the backsplash caught her eye. Judging from the height of the pile, it was several days’ worth of mail. Luke’s disinterest in opening it was one thing that hadn’t changed during his deployment or since his return.
She flipped through the stack, sorting as she went.
Harper’s fingers paused on the envelope with handwriting as familiar as her own. She held the letter gingerly between her fingers. Was it her imagination, or could she actually feel the hate through the paper?
She had read each and every one of the letters in the past few years.
Sometimes she boosted her bravery with a large glass of wine.
Sometimes she waited until she was good and mad about something else before opening one.
Sometimes, if things were good, she put it away for a few weeks before opening.
Anything to help build a wall between her and the violence simmering within the ink.
However, the luxury of waiting days or weeks to read had passed.
Now there was an urgency as time ticked down.
Someday, she promised herself, she would feel nothing but pity when she opened these letters. And someday they would stop.
Taking a deep breath, she tore open the envelope. It was the usual single piece of lined notebook paper. The handwriting was a scrawling script that slanted and slashed across the page.
My dear Harper,
It’s been too many years since our time together.
Why haven’t you come to see me? Are you afraid?
I think of you often. There is never a shortage of time here to think and to plan.
I have so many plans for you and me. How will I ever choose where to begin?
How will I impress upon you the price for these last twelve years?
Because there will be a price to pay for taking so much of a man’s life.
What have you done with these years? Whatever it is, it won’t be enough to cover the cost of what you took from me.
I suppose we will both find out soon enough. Until December.
Daddy
December. The years had finally ticked down to a handful of weeks and days. She went upstairs and pulled the box out of the back of the closet. She kicked the lid off and tucked the letter into the folder with the rest.
She would copy it and send it on its way tomorrow. Melissa would add it to her own file, but there was nothing either of them could do now. No more stays. Not this time .
She needed to tell Luke. It wasn’t just her anymore. Her past would now affect others. There was no way to keep this from him without putting him in danger. She wanted him to know. It was time to stop running, hiding.
Harper put the lid on the box and slid it back into its spot on the closet floor. She went downstairs and hovered just inside the living room door.