Chapter 22 Harper
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HARPER
Ifind him by the sound of the water.
At first I think I’m imagining it—just the low rush of pipes settling—but then I hear it again, steady and unmistakable, coming from the bathroom at the end of the hall.
“Harrison?” I call softly.
No answer.
I pad down the hallway, quietly toward the guest room, every step careful, like I’m afraid of startling him. The bathroom door is half open, steam curling out into the dim light of the condo.
I push it open and find him standing fully clothed in the shower.
Jeans darkened with water. T-shirt plastered to his chest. Head tipped forward, forehead braced against the tile like that’s the only thing keeping him upright. The water runs over him, relentlessly soaking him through, and he doesn’t move to stop it.
Oh shit.
My heart breaks in half.
“Harrison,” I say again, stepping inside and pushing the door closed behind me.
He flinches, just barely, like he didn’t expect to be found.
“I—” My voice wobbles, so I steady it. “Connor fell asleep.”
That gets his attention.
He turns his head a fraction, eyes red-rimmed, lashes clumped with water that might not all be from the shower. He looks wrecked. Like the weight of ten years finally found somewhere to land.
“He cried himself out,” I continue softly. “I sat with him until his breathing softened and he fell asleep.”
Harrison swallows but still doesn’t speak.
“I turned off the oven,” I add, because somehow it feels important that he knows. “And then I…I couldn’t find you.”
I step closer, my socks instantly soaking through as I cross the tile. The air is warm and heavy with steam and something raw I don’t have a name for.
“You can turn it off,” I say gently. “You don’t have to punish yourself.”
His shoulders hitch.
“I don’t know what else to do,” he admits, his voice rough. “I broke him.”
“No,” I choke out, reaching for him. “God no, H. You did no such thing.”
My fingers clutch at his soaked arms sliding up through wet fabric and over taut muscle until my palms rest against his chest. His heart races under my hands, wild and frantic.
“He’s hurting,” I whisper, my voice cracking.
“Because he loves you so much it scares him. And because even if he doesn’t want to admit it, even if he can’t admit it, this matters to him.
You matter to him. That’s not broken, H.
That’s love. You didn’t break him, I promise. If anyone broke him, it was me.”
His eyes squeeze shut, tears mingling with the shower water.
“I missed everything,” he whispers with grief. “Ten years. First wobbly skates. First goals. First heartbreak. I didn’t even know his voice or…or…or the sound of his laugh.”
I press my forehead to his sternum, my own tears flowing freely now. “I know,” I sob against him. “And that’s all on me. Hate me, H. I deserve it. Take your rage out on me. Yell until your throat bleeds. Scream until the walls shake. Hit me if you want to. Whatever you need.”
He jerks back, cradling my face in his hands.
“Are you out of your goddamn mind?” His voice breaks completely.
“ Harper, I would never—” He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, his eyes burning with hurt.
“I would die before I hurt you. I could never—” He shakes his head, fingers trembling against my skin.
“I love you, Harp. So goddamn much it’s killing me.
Don’t you see? I’ve been waiting for you since the moment you walked away. ”
My breath catches in my throat. The raw honesty in his voice makes my chest ache. I want to believe him—God, I want to—but ten years of guilt have built walls I don’t know how to tear down. His eyes search mine, red-rimmed but so earnest it hurts to look at them.
“I didn’t mean to break you,” I whisper, my voice cracking as I swipe at my eyes, the warm shower water streaming down my face. “I didn’t mean to do any of this.” I gesture between us, his soaked T-shirt clinging to every contour of his chest as it rises and falls with ragged breaths.
“You didn’t break anything, Harp,” he tells me, wrapping his strong arms around me.
“But you’re not the one who kept all this from him. From you.”
“I should’ve fought harder for you. I shouldn’t have let you leave. I should’ve known there was a bigger reason you were leaving. I was just too young and too stupid to see it.”
“You’re here now,” I say. “And you didn’t run. You didn’t get defensive. You didn’t make it about you. You stayed. You listened. You let Connor be angry. You did all the right things, H.”
He lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t deserve him.”
I tilt my head back, my heart splitting open at the raw devastation in his voice. His face—his beautiful face—is crumpled like he’s been shattered from the inside out.
“Harrison Meers,” I say firmly, “do not say that.”
His eyes finally meet mine then, glassy and lost and I can barely breathe.
“You are not your biological father,” I continue, gripping his face between my palms, my thumbs brushing away tears that the shower can’t disguise.
“You are everything he needs.” My chest heaves.
“And I love you so much for everything you’ve done for him already and for everything I know you’ll do for him in the coming years. ”
My voice cracks.
“You’re a great dad, Harrison.”
Something in his face gives.
He folds into me, arms crushing me against him like I’m his very last lifeline in a storm he can’t control. He presses his forehead to my shoulder, his entire body convulsing with ten years of loss, and I hold him as the water drenches us both, until I can’t tell where his tears end and mine begin.
“I love you, Harper,” he chokes out against my neck. “I love you and I don’t know how to do this without you.”
I cradle the back of his head, fingers threading into his wet hair.
“I love you too,” I whisper. “You don’t have to do this alone. Not ever.”
He lifts his head slowly, searching my face with such hope it makes my knees weak. Then he kisses me. Not with desperation or hunger, but with reverence. Like he’s grounding himself back into his body through me.
So, I kiss him back the same way with everything I have.
With everything I am.
We stand there, fully clothed, water running, holding each other while the world outside the steam-filled shower fades into nothingness and the worst moment of our lives settles into something survivable.
It’s just him and me, wrapped up in this moment where vulnerability collides with raw, unfiltered emotion.
His forehead rests against mine, our breaths mingling in the heated air as the water cascades down our bodies, washing away remnants of the pain we’ve both carried for far too long.
“I don’t want to lose you again,” he whispers, and I feel every syllable sink deep into my chest. “I don’t want to lose him either.”
The tremor in his voice shatters me from the inside, my heart weeping as I reach up to cradle his face in my hands. “You won’t lose us, Harrison. Not now, not ever again.”
It’s a promise that feels like solid ground beneath my feet, but the way his heart races against mine says he needs more. He wants reassurance, something tangible to hold onto. I can see it written all over his face, the fear, the desperation, the love that’s been bottled up for years.
Without thinking, I lean forward, capturing his lips with mine, an urgent push that ignites the air between us.
His hands find my waist, fingers digging in as I pull at his soaked shirt, our bodies pressing together under the hot spray.
The intensity of his grip sends shivers down my spine despite the warmth surrounding us.
He needs me.
He needs this.
I need this.
“Harper,” he groans against my mouth as his hands slide up under my now-soaking shirt, the fabric clinging to my skin in a way that makes everything feel more intimate, more urgent.
I tug at his shirt, desperate to feel his skin against mine. “Take this off,” I whisper, my voice barely audible over the shower. “I need to feel you.”
He pulls back just enough to yank his shirt over his head, tossing it with a wet slap against the shower floor. My breath catches at the sight of him, water dripping down his broad shoulders, across the defined planes of his chest, tracing paths I want to follow with my tongue.
“Your turn,” he says, his voice rough with emotion and desire.
I lift my arms as he peels my wet shirt away, his eyes darkening as he takes me in. The vulnerability in his gaze makes my heart ache. This isn’t just about physical need. It’s about connection, about finding each other again after everything we’ve been through today.
He slides his hand down my back, leaving a trail of heat that has nothing to do with the shower spray. The way he’s looking at me—like I’m everything he’s ever wanted—makes my heart stutter in my chest. I reach for his belt, fumbling with the wet leather as water runs between us.
“I need you, H,” I whisper against his mouth, my hands working the buckle free. “Right now.”
“Are you sure?” he asks, his voice rough with desire but still so careful, so concerned. Even now, after everything, he’s checking in, making sure I’m okay.
I answer by sliding my hands down his chest, hooking my fingers in his waistband. “I’ve never been surer of anything.”
Harrison groans, capturing my mouth in a kiss that steals my breath.
He pulls my hips, flush against him as I work at his wet jeans and he works at mine.
We kick them off, leaving them in a soaked heap.
He lifts me then, my legs wrapping around his waist as my back meets the cool tile wall.
The contrast between the cold surface and his hot body against me is dizzying.
My hands grasp his shoulders as he kisses my neck, trailing his soft lips down to my collarbone.
“I love you,” he breathes against my skin, the words sending a shiver down my spine. “I’ve always loved you.”