CHAPTER 15
Harvey
I’m shirtless, in charcoal pants, when I walk slowly to my closet to grab a shirt.
That’s when I hear her. “Harvey…” Gemma clears her throat. “Look at you!”
She seems genuinely pleased to see me walking this morning. To be honest, I don’t know what made me do it. I do it with Claire daily, but there’s usually bars on either side, aiding my self-confidence, ready to be grabbed if need be.
This Friday morning, I said fuck it.
I took one step, and then another, and then one more.
And here I am. My mind is reeling at the thought of walking again, even for short distances. I’m dreaming big, wondering if McKleen is right and I can do this—walk with crutches.
My stomach is in turmoil, yet it’s buzzing with excitement at the prospect of my future. I’m scared to death that something will cause my progress to falter, and I’m furious at my girlfriend.
She might have the title, yet she doesn’t feel like mine.
Not anymore.
She’s been slipping through my fingers since the accident, little by little.
I bring myself back to reality, my jaw ticking when Gemma reaches me, grabs my hand, and clutches it to her chest. “Harv.”
Her voice is peppered with guilt—purified guilt—and I’m sure my eyes are emanating unfiltered rage.
I don’t say a word though.
Not one fucking word.
I can’t stop my throat from swallowing, because she’s looking at me with hope, and she’s pleading for something with her eyes.
I can’t pinpoint what it is.
“I’m so proud of you.” She grabs my face with her hands. “I believe in you—you know that, right?”
I stare at her lips, hearing the softness in her voice, my mind wishing that in a perfect world, we’d muddle our way through this.
And then I notice her leather skirt, and whom she wears these types of outfits for now.
As if she realizes it too, that she’s a liar, a cheat, she takes a step back, checking out my chest.
Would’ve been nice if she had done that long ago. Would’ve been nice if I didn’t have to be standing up for her to stare at my chest the way she is now.
“Are you…are you also doing different exercises?” she asks me.
I shrug. “McKleen gave me more upper body strength exercises.” I’ve also been training with Claire, but I don’t mention it, since Gemma already knows.
“That’s good, Harv .” She whispers my name like she’s engraving the memory of it inside her head. She’s so far gone, it’s not even funny. I don’t think there’s a single thing I can do to win this woman back, nor am I even sure that’s what I want.
A part of me wants the familiarity, wants what we once had. And a part of me knows that’s dead and gone, and that I must move on.
But right now? I’m mad at her. I’m just processing my thoughts, trying to put them into words so I can tell her how I feel.
“Keep going,” Gemma says, gesturing for me to keep walking.
She probably thinks we’re having a moment. Though the only moment we’re having is one of realization that her need to take care of me is bigger than her need for me or her love for me.
It might not even be her fault, she might not even notice it, but she’s done this since day one. She’s hovered and pestered and questioned and pressured me about my progress since the early days after the accident.
It took me a while to realize it, what was bothering me about her. And now that she’s taken a step back and given me space to breathe and grow on my own, it’s not for my own good, but to justify her own behavior.
So I shake my head and ask her to close the door behind her.
My voice is gentle though, the complete opposite of the fury racing through me.
She swallows, and she’s nervous, and when I look her in the eye, I want her to know that I fucking know. I know she’s playing dirty behind my back.
Not that I’m any better.
Fuck, I’m not any better at all.
She nods and leaves, and I can’t shake the heavy feeling inside of me. That I’ll have to make a decision soon and that something will have to change.
My head is a mess.
I don’t feel strong enough to complete my walk to the closet anymore. Until Claire comes in, waiting by the closet as she tells me, “Come on, you got this!”
I breathe deeply, then I take a step, and another one. Toward this ray of sunshine. Fucking Claire. Gemma destroys my soul sometimes, even if she doesn’t mean to, but Claire heals me and stitches me back together.
Into a new man. A person I’ve longed to be. Someone I never had the guts to be before her.
“That’s it,” she whispers, a smile growing on her face as I finally reach her.
I hear the front door of the house close—Gemma leaving for work. It’s just me and Claire now, in front of my closet.
Her hand lingers on my bare stomach, and I wonder if she even notices. We’ve certainly blurred the lines before, especially yesterday.
“What made you try it this morning?”
I shrug. “I wanted to see if I could put your training to good use.” I wink at her, and she looks away, her cheeks reddening like cherry blossoms.
She swallows. “I’ll have to update your program again.”
I nod and point behind her. “I need a shirt.”
“Oh. Right!” She seems embarrassed and moves out of the way, leaving my room.
I train hard today, and she makes it more challenging without a doubt. But there’s a sense of rejuvenation in my veins after my morning walk in my room.
The what-ifs are palpable in my mind throughout the day. I almost text Henrik about it but think better of it—too terrified of ruining anything.
“Harvey…”
I spin my chair around to face Claire in the living room after taking a shower.
“Yeah?”
“I just got a frantic call from my sister… She asked me to go pick her up from school.”
“Of course, go get her. I can handle myself,” I say honestly.
She sighs, a smile on her face. “I was wondering if you’d like to come… Could be a fun little outing—if you consider hanging out with a teenager fun.”
I was about to grab a snack and game, but the idea of spending more time with Claire is tempting. Plus, her sister will be there, so nothing can really happen.
“You know what?” I think about it. “I’ll come.”
“Okay.” She’s beaming. “I’ll just change into casual clothes.”
“Sure, whatever you want.”
I regret my words as soon as she comes out of the bathroom in black leggings and a hoodie. She looks great out of her scrubs.
We grab our stuff and drive to her sister’s high school in my van, since it’s easier for me. If someone would’ve told me before the accident that I’d constantly be riding as a passenger in a van one day, I’d tell them to lay off it.
Claire has Celine Dion blasting as she sings along, her head bobbing from side to side adorably.
“You don’t seem too worried about your sister,” I notice.
She chuckles. “That’s because you haven’t met Audrey yet.” When she looks at me, both hands on the stirring wheel, I feel it in my chest and stomach.
A powerful feeling—one I had when Gemma and I first started dating.
I break eye contact with Claire, knowing I’m fucked.
I like this girl.
I mean, really like her.
I won’t let anyone fire her and remove her existence from my life.
Not even Gemma.
And I fear then that my decision might already be underway.
Claire fetches Audrey and talks to her outside. Her sister’s crying, and it looks pretty serious to me. I can hear her sister talking loudly about a schoolboy who broke her heart.
Ah, to be young again.
Claire dries her sister’s tears and hugs her tightly. In that moment I can picture it so clearly, her leaning down to comfort our child.
What the fuck?
I shake my head, disturbed by my thoughts.
I tell myself to relax, that it’s just a stupid crush because I feel lonely, but deep down, I know the truth. It’s like a misty cloud vaporing through my entire being. I might not see it, yet it’s there, and I feel it no matter how hard I try to push it away.
Claire’s growing on me—each and every day.
Yet I still love Gemma.
“Hi! I’m Audrey. You’re Harvey, right?”
I turn to face Audrey, sitting in the back seat. “Yeah, it’s nice to meet you.”
“You as well. Hopefully I didn’t ruin your day. This idiot I was seeing thought it was a good idea to break things off by text while I was in class.”
I stare at Claire, who looks worried. “Boys are a waste of time at your age, Audrey.”
“I know they are, but I’m bored,” her sister answers without a beat.
I chuckle, shaking my head, and Claire smiles like, See what I mean?
“It’s all good,” Audrey goes on. “His friend’s cuter anyway.”
“Audrey!” Claire chastises her. “You have to be careful.”
She snorts. “For what—my reputation? I am who I am.”
Claire sighs, and if I were to guess, I’d say that this is a reoccurring theme between the two of them. Audrey lives fearlessly, and Claire worries about her. Which is interesting to me, since Claire’s the epitome of a free spirit when she’s with me.
I get it. I worry about Henrik at times too.
A lot less than I used to, though, since drowning in your own melancholy causes tunnel vision. It makes life dark, endless, full of rust and pain, with no light in sight.
I look out the window, wondering where we’re heading to next.
Claire drives us to a hot dog joint that still operates in winter. One, it’s phenomenal, and two, it’s been so long since I’ve been out and about like this.
Chicago hot dogs are amazing.
I take mine spicy with a ton of relish.
I finish my poppy-seed hot dog in the van in a few bites as we share a large fry.
The best part of today is the sun shining brightly and my morning walk to the closet.
Audrey doesn’t stop talking even when we get back to my place.
For a split second, I think about what Gemma would say if she knew that Claire brought her sister here for the afternoon, but then again, Gemma gets rides from her boss and went on a trip with him, so I think it’s safe to fucking say that I can decide for myself as well.
“This is a cute little home you have here,” Audrey compliments once we’ve gathered around the table.
“Well, thank you.” I nod at her in thanks.
“You know, I have multiple sclerosis,” she says randomly.
“That’s unfortunate. I’m sorry to hear that.”
“No worries. I’m used to it, I guess. I’ve had health issues since I was young. It all started when I went blind in one eye. I got my eyesight back after starting medication, thank God .”
Shit.
“That must’ve been really scary for you,” I tell her.
“Yeah, it was.” The solemn sound of her voice makes me feel bad for them all. As a family, to constantly have a child experiencing illness must not be easy.
The pain in Claire’s eyes is noticeable, if only for a second. I understand the weight of looking out for your younger sibling.
Thankfully, Hen was never sick.
Audrey continues. “You know, treatment makes it bearable. I do experience weakness in my legs sometimes, and extreme migraines and fatigue, but the blindness and the hospital stays to figure out all my health issues were the worst parts.”
Claire clears her throat. “She…had a lot of respiratory infections as a child too. She’s a strong one.” She puts her hand on her sister’s arm, looking at her fondly.
It’s obvious they share a special bond.
We end up playing cards at Claire’s request, no doubt to boost the mood. I serve them chips and candy with pop, hoping this will put a smile on the teen’s face after suffering perhaps her first but certainly not her last heartbreak.
We play Crazy Eights.
I win all the rounds.
“Harvey, you’re not allowed to play anymore. You’re too good!” Claire’s teasing me, and I don’t miss the way Audrey stares at us, smirking.
“Hey…I came in second each time.” Audrey pouts. “But looks like there’s a first time for everything. Mwahaha.” She laughs jokingly, setting her cards down, indicating she won this round.
“Good job, kid!” I high-five her.
Claire sports a mega smile on her face as she gathers the cards to shuffle the deck again. She’s happy, and it shows.
“You know, I thought about it, and screw Dylan,” Audrey says.
“Audrey!” Claire sighs.
“What? I’m just saying…” Audrey shrugs, eating a worm candy.
Time flies with these two. Their banter and Audrey’s monologues are honestly the best. Audrey somewhat reminds me of Henrik—like two peas in a pod.
Evening catches up with us too quickly.
After we eat pizza, Claire gets up to tidy the kitchen. Audrey doesn’t hesitate then to ask me how it feels to be in a wheelchair.
She whispers the question, no doubt knowing that her sister would give her shit for it, but I don’t mind. All people want from me is to “progress,” “get better,” and “move on with my life,” so it’s refreshing for me to share my actual feelings.
“Trapped. I feel trapped.” It’s the first word that comes to mind. “And I don’t mean just physically. Mentally, I feel stuck—like there’s no way forward.”
Every time I do, I end up five steps back.
“That’s sad,” she says, pondering my answer. “I know it doesn’t measure up to your situation , but my illness has stopped me in life too, compared to others. You can’t win either way. I’m sure people look at you and pity you.” Her brow knits together like, Tell me I’m wrong . “And with an invisible illness, if they see you having a good day, they expect it all the time. It’s hard to explain, but I feel as if people think I’m faking sometimes.”
“At least you have your family there for you. I’m sure they believe you.”
She doesn’t seem convinced. “Yeah…I hope so. Sometimes I think even for them I’m too much.”
“Nah. Perhaps they’re going through their own stuff…”
“I guess that’s possible.” Her smile falters, and I notice Dylan’s name pop up on her phone screen. “Ugh. I can do much better than him, and he needs to be reminded of that.” She gets up as Claire walks back over to us, shaking her head at her sister’s comment.
“I’ll be in another room,” Audrey tells us, making herself at home.
“There’s a slice of pizza left and some pop…for Gemma if she wants.” Claire swallows as she says this, and I know why.
This isn’t like in the beginning when we would talk about Gemma freely.
Things are different now, and we know it.
“Thanks, I’ll let her know.” I check the time—it’s late again. “If she comes home.” I roll my eyes.
She’s taken aback by my comment. “She doesn’t come home often?”
“She does.” I look away. “Though pretty late. She works a lot of overtime.”
“Well…maybe it’s her job.” She bites her lip. “Perhaps it’s demanding,” she adds.
I turn to face her and stare into those doe eyes that make me want to fuck her so bad, it’s killing me to stay away from her.
“Do you really believe that?”
She glances at the backyard, and I wait for her answer. “I don’t know,” she whispers. “She certainly dresses differently than when she first started this job, and she seems happier, but that could be because of a lot of things. Why don’t you ask her if you’re worried?”
I shake my head. “I’m not sure she’d be honest with me even if I asked.”
She touches my arm, her chair next to mine. Her hand is so soft on my skin, it’s like a burn.
Except it’s not a bad burn—it’s magical.
I’m out of my wheelchair, and it’s nice to have a conversation this way.
Claire leans her head on my shoulder, and I know I’m doomed. My heart is pounding, my hands are sweaty, and I feel nervousness in the pit of my stomach.
When she looks up, I fall into the abyss of her dark eyes.
“Oh, Harvey…”
The next thing I know, her hands grasp my neck as her lips touch mine. It’s a feverish kiss, an urgent one—demanding every cell in my body to feel it.
And I don’t hold back.
My mind completely blanks, and all my focus is on her soft lips, her feminine fingers ruffling through my hair. She’s pulling at it as if she wants answers about the universe and I’m the only one who can provide them.
My hand grabs her by the jaw to pull her closer to me, to remove any inch of space between us.
I’m starving for her. I’m thirsty for her kisses. I’m dying for her spirit.
That spirit of hers, I swear to God.
Little by little, it’s changing me—she’s changing me. I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy since the accident. And that thought alone is enough to bring up the guilt again for sharing these moments with this woman, for kissing her.
I pull back from our kiss, wanting more.
“I’m… I don’t know what came over me. Jesus.” Claire stands up quickly, the chair screeching against the floor, her fingers weaving through her hair.
“You shouldn’t have done that.”
She swallows, and there’s tears brimming in her eyes. The same eyes I was willing to worship a minute ago are the same ones I’m willing to tarnish now.
I just cheated on Gemma.
I’m a coward and an asshole.
“I know, I’m sorry! Why did you even kiss me back?” she asks, her fingers touching her lips.
What is it about her hands and fingers that turn me on so much?
And her smell, her hair, her body.
Her joie de vivre.
Her softness .
Argh. I’m hard again. And I’m pissed off.
“I don’t even know.” She winces at my harsh words. “You can’t go around kissing taken people, you know.”
I swallow like I’m drowning and the saliva’s about to save my life. I need a lifeline here because I have no idea what I’m doing.
A few years ago, Gemma was my world.
Then my world crashed, and everything crumbled.
But she stood by me when many girls our age would’ve left me.
“You don’t get to try and make me feel like a fool. I’m sorry, I am, but you know that you loved every second of it, Harv.”
I shake my head, sweat forming all over my body.
The stress and anxiety and guilt are overpowering at times.
Tears are trickling down her face now. She stares down the hallway ahead, making sure Audrey isn’t there as she wipes her eyes. We can hear Audrey talking on the phone from here, so I don’t think she’s coming out any time soon.
“Claire…” I feel like I’m choking.
“I got the message, Harvey, no worries. We’ll keep it professional from now on, as we should’ve since the beginning.”
It kills me when she looks up the ceiling to contain more tears. I want to dry every single one of them with my shirt.
“Come here. You caught me off guard. I don’t know, Claire…I don’t know what I’m doing.” I snort and shake my head before shoving my face into my hands.
I glance her way again, staring at her with her rosy cheeks, her semi-dried tears, her pinned-up hair, just the way I like it.
She looks like my future wife.
“Fuck, why now ? Why did you have to come into my life now? Why not before I met Gemma? I don’t want to hurt her! Just because she hurts me doesn’t mean I want to hurt her like this!”
If Audrey wasn’t on the phone, she’d for sure hear me.
Claire laughs lightly, and it’s fairylike. This woman seems like she’s from another world with the way she makes me feel.
“It’s okay.” She clears her throat, playing with her fingertips. “You should work things out with Gemma.”
I transfer to my wheelchair, then wheel closer to her, taking her hand, but she shakes her head. “If you don’t want this the way I thought you might, we can’t do this.” She palms my cheek, and it’s one of the most erotic things I’ve ever experienced.
It’s intimacy in its purest, rarest form.
It’s feelings and lust and pain all melded into a single touch.
“Claire…” My words are useless as she’s already walking toward the hallway, no doubt to fetch her sister.
When they come back out, they gather their coats, and I’m surprised Audrey doesn’t ask why they’re leaving in such a hurry until she tells her sister, “I told you this would happen.”
Claire simply bites her lip, shaking her head. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she tells me. “Good night, Harvey.”
And they’re gone.
And I feel like absolute shit.
And I can’t stop thinking about that kiss.
It was everything a man could hope to feel when he kisses a woman.
Fuck.
What have I done? I’ll manage to break two women’s hearts in one night.
Way to go, loser.
I barely have enough time to gather my wits before Gemma comes home from work that night. She goes through her usual routine while I wait for her in the kitchen to offer her food. It’s the least I can do before ruining our relationship.
My entire upper body feels like it’s burning, on fire. It’s as if an impending doom is approaching and I’m the one who’s about to deliver it.
Once she’s in the kitchen, wearing nothing but a long T-shirt, I wonder for a split second if her boss has seen her in the same attire. The thought makes my jaw tick until I remember what I did and what I’m about to tell her.
“Oh, you ordered pizza…” Her voice falters, and I wonder why.
Is she asking herself the same questions I’m asking myself, except regarding Claire? She doesn’t seem to have a problem with her though.
“Claire left… I wasn’t sure if you were working late or not.” I push the plate closer to her on the kitchen island. “Take it.”
She must be hungry because she devours a slice of pizza before sipping from a can of Mountain Dew.
“How was your day?” I ask her.
I’m surprised when her answer is to ask me what’s wrong.
Am I that easy to read?
I swallow at her question, looking away, and it doesn’t take long for her to abandon the kitchen island and walk over to my wheelchair, kneeling in front of it.
She takes my hand in hers, yet I feel nothing but scorching heat from it instead. “What’s wrong, Harv?”
I can’t look at her, not as I’m about to break her fucking heart.
I wipe my sweaty hands on my charcoal pants. “We kissed…Claire and I.”
She lets go of my hand and stands up. An imminent fight is underway. There’s no way around it.
I’m so sorry, Gemma.
She looks like she’s about to be sick.
“Who kissed who first?” Her breathing is erratic, and she looks like she’s seconds away from a full meltdown.
I shake my head, my thumb and forefinger tracing my eyebrows. “She did. I didn’t stop it.”
I enjoyed it.
I enjoy her presence, Gemma!
She takes deep breaths, her eyes staring at a random place behind me. “She’s fired.”
“No. No, she’s not.” I shake my head again. “She’s not fired. She’s the best I’ve ever had.”
Fuck, why did I say that?
I can tell from the look on her face that the words can’t be taken back. If she could plunge a dagger into my heart right now, I’m positive she would.
I can’t fire Claire. I refuse to.
She can’t leave me.
Gemma turns around abruptly, no doubt to go to her room, before she whirls back. “What does she have that I don’t?” She whispers the words, her voice shaking and stumbling over them.
“What?”
I want to plead with her that it has nothing to do with her and that she’s perfect in her own way. But I can’t do that, because that wouldn’t be the full truth.
She’s hurt me in a lot of ways, and I’ve hurt her back.
“Don’t play coy, Harvey. What is it about her that puts a smile on your face? Why can you let her touch you? Why can you let her see you walk? What have I ever done to you?”
She absolutely destroys me with her words.
Each one of them slices through my skin, the heat of my upper body ready to penetrate down into my veins.
She’s about to cry.
I play all her words on repeat, and I wonder how she can be so observant yet say nothing.
Have I imagined things with her boss? Am I ruining a good thing here?
“I did everything, everything , that I could to be there for you and put your needs first. EVERYTHING, HARVEY!” She’s almost shouting now, and I’m fucking shocked.
I don’t blame her one bit. I deserve her wrath. I deserve all of it.
I did this to us.
She storms off down the hallway, presumably to go to her room. I’m shaking from her outburst and from the night’s events.
She’s going to leave me.
I know it, I can feel it. She already left me—she just hasn’t made it official.
I know I screwed up, and there’s nothing I can do but take responsibility. I must own up to my mistakes. I have to figure my shit out.
I completely destroyed her and Claire.
That’s what I do, I hurt people!
Henrik will hate me for hurting Gemma. My parents will be disappointed.
When she comes out, she looks like a feral animal ready to pounce on my throat if I utter a fucking word.
“Where’re you going? Gemma…let’s talk about this.” Desperation leaks from every word.
What if this pushes her over the edge?
“Now you want to talk?” It’s like she’s slapped me in the face. She’s right. I need to step back after hurting her. Her mind is probably trying to process all of it.
So I let her leave the house, hoping she’ll come back eventually.
When I turn my chair back around, I’m surrounded by the ghosts of tonight’s events. I go over my night with Claire and my fight with Gemma.
Obsessively.
And I wonder, down to my core, if it hurts so much to break Gemma’s heart because I love her or because of guilt.
I’m an asshole.
The fire is still attacking my upper body.
It feels like pain is permanently etching itself inside me and I’ll never recover. If I could move the way I used to right now, I’d be on my fucking knees.
I wheel myself to the couch and grab a pillow. I scream into it with all my might. I empty myself of years and years of frustration, knowing I’d rather punch the goddamn wall.
Instead, I punch the couch on either side of the pillow.
I keep screaming and raging for so long, I don’t even realize when I start crying too.