CHAPTER 9
Harvey
Claire’s cheering me on two days later on Wednesday afternoon.
I take steps without holding on to the bar. I repeat the movement one more time while clenching my fists tightly by my side.
“Harvey!” Claire squeaks when I’m done, and my smile is large and wide, my heart fluttering as if I were high out of my mind. It takes me a second to register the gesture when Claire throws her arms around me and gives me a big hug.
My smile fades, yet I can’t help giving in to the hug.
It feels so damn nice.
Her tits are warming my chest, and when she looks up, eyes round and hopeful, she tells me, “I’m so proud of you.”
And I die a little. Then I’m reborn.
A weight lifts off my shoulders.
She lets go of me, though my arms miss her touch. She’s beaming when she proposes that I sit back on the chair and start weight training.
She’s watching me do repetitions when she tells me, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t professional.”
“Don’t worry about it.” I keep going through the exercise routine as she eyes me in silence. We stare at each other once, and then twice, before Gemma’s face comes to mind and coaxes me to glance down.
The rest of the afternoon is spent outside, and Claire urges me to take more steps to different areas. Then I shower and play video games until I hear Gemma come home.
I feel like there’s something on her mind tonight at dinner—she’s quieter than usual, and her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.
The words are on the tip of my tongue, that I’m proud of her, that she deserves to travel the world the way she’s always wanted to.
Yet I can’t bring myself to say them.
The fear is real that I’ll lose her. That she’ll realize I’m holding her back. That all the things we dreamed of experiencing together post-college were just that—dreams.
“How was your day?” I ask her instead as she swirls spaghetti around her fork. I grab a bite of my own, her gaze avoiding mine.
“It was pretty busy, but it was good. I’m getting the hang of things,” she says after swallowing her food.
“That’s great.”
“Sure, yeah.” My heart flutters when her smile reaches her eyes. Once upon a time, I would’ve done anything to see her smile. I catch sight of her cute little ear when she pushes her hair behind it.
“How was yours?” she asks in return.
I think about the progress I’m making, walking without holding on to the bars, then I think of the hug Claire gave me.
“It was… The training was good.” I’m surprised when she simply puts her hand on mine and tells me that she’s glad. Where are her obnoxious twenty questions about what I did today or if Claire followed Stefan’s plan? She throws none of those my way, and I quietly exhale at the thought of our having a normal dinner together without her feeling the need to bombard me with questions about my progress.
After dinner, she gets ready for her workday and her work trip tomorrow while I game online against one of my college buddies who’s studying abroad before calling it a night.
I’m exhausted.
I fall asleep rapidly thinking of two redheads. One happy angel with the darkest eyes, and the other a green-eyed siren.
Best of all, I don’t forget Claire’s hug.
It’s Thursday evening, and Gemma’s on her flight to LA for work.
“Pizza’s ordered,” Claire says, sitting on the other end of the couch. “So I wanted to ask you…are you happy with your PT so far?” She crosses her legs.
“Yeah, of course.”
She nods, angling her body to face me. “How come Gemma doesn’t know? She’s asking questions, and I’m not sure what to tell her.”
I look away, sighing. “I don’t want her to know until the change is here to stay. You know how these things can go.”
“You’re doing great, Harv. You were doing great even before I came along—”
“I know that. And I want to do more. There’s just no point in getting anyone’s hopes up.”
“Alright.”
“Alright?” I ask, surprised she agreed so easily.
She smiles. “Yes, I’ll tell her you’re building your strength and muscle mass.”
“Thanks,” I say, grateful.
“Want to keep reading?” she asks me, changing the subject with her book in hand.
“Sure.” We have time to kill until the pizza comes. “Let’s see what these kids have been up to lately.”
“Okay.” She beams and scoots closer to me on the couch.
I should tell her to move. I know I should. But I’m frozen, eager to stare at her as she reads to me. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t wanted her to. Something about her reading to me is so peaceful. A kind of peace I haven’t felt in a long while.
And with every line and every chapter, I want to hear more.
Not necessarily more of the story—I’ve never been much of a reader—but more of Claire’s emotions. The sadness clings to her voice at times like honey, while other times her joy and laughter echo throughout the room.
Claire’s outlook on life…it rubs off on me.
“Amy can be just as annoying as Hen,” I say, referring to one of the fictional characters in the book. “And that’s saying something,” I scoff.
Her soft laugh is music to my ears as she lightly smacks my stomach. Then she reminds me how young Amy is and how well she grows up. I meant to grab her hand to push it off, but the second our hands intertwine, I notice two things: the sparkle in her eyes and the softness of her skin.
“Stop looking at me like that,” she whispers, her eyes pleading. For what? I don’t know. She stares at me as if she wants me to reach for the stars for her, as if I ever could.
She has such beautiful eyes.
The doorbell rings, and I let go of her hand as if it burned me. Then, ten minutes later, we’re on the couch, eating the delicious pizza.
“You know what you need?” Claire says eventually. “A good laugh.”
So she picks another funny movie. And I do laugh, and it feels like a muscle I must keep exercising.
I feel calmer after dinner. And that’s when I notice and appreciate Claire’s laughter throughout the movie.
It’s so different from Gemma’s.
Gemma. Fuck, Gemma.
Would she be mad if she knew that Claire had stayed? If she came back and saw us watching a comedy instead of our usual horror movies?
She would. I think she would fire Claire on the spot.
But I’m not willing to allow that. Not when I’m finally progressing and able to walk longer distances.
“I should probably go home,” Claire says after the movie is over and she’s cleaned up.
“Yeah…thanks for the movie.”
“Next time you pick!”
I nod, unable to tell her that there shouldn’t be a next time. Gemma will kill me.
Claire sees herself out, and when I head to bed much later, guilt keeps churning in my stomach. It takes me a while to fall asleep. It’s almost two in the morning by the time Gemma texts me that she’s landed in LA.
My heart is beating fast, both shame and remorse fighting for the primary spot inside my mind.
I fall asleep eventually, refusing to let either win.