CHAPTER 33
Harvey
For two days straight, Claire and I can barely keep our hands off each other.
I still have trouble sleeping—I’m half in turmoil from my breakup and half in this euphoric state of mind, while still worrying that my time with Claire is limited and that it’s all a dream that will fade away.
It’s now Saturday, and my worries are haunting me once more. Henrik isn’t home tonight, and I end up drinking many beers by myself, on an empty stomach, and I’m feeling pretty drunk.
It doesn’t help the loneliness—instead, it amplifies it.
This isn’t about wanting Gemma back, because I don’t. I would never be able to forget what she did, nor do I want to go back to that relationship. I think it was clear that it wasn’t working anymore.
But the fact remains that losing people hurts.
It means more than letting them go; it means letting the old you go. Because through each phase, we become new people.
This all makes sense to me until it doesn’t. As the night goes on, I start to miss Gemma a little more as I reminisce about the good old days. That’s the issue, I suppose—all of our good memories were pre-accident. We failed to make any new ones since.
And I know, deep down, that I’m mostly to blame for that. That epiphany leads me to drunk text Gemma like an idiot.
I can barely remember what I wrote—something about being a burden to her and my family. Of course, it doesn’t take long for me to phone Claire right after.
“Hello?”
I chuckle. “Hi, Claire, I miss you.”
“Are you alright? You sound a little off.”
“Come over for a date with me…”
She lets out a small laugh. “Oh, Harv—have you been drinking?”
“Please come. I need you tonight.”
I think I hear Audrey in the background until the sound is muffled and Claire’s sweet voice is back.
“I’m coming,” she confirms. “I’ll see you soon!” And she hangs up.
When Claire finally knocks and I let her in, she’s wearing this simple long-sleeved black dress that shows off her curves.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d show up.”
“I doubt it.” She smiles. “You knew I’d come.”
“I was hopeful.” I shrug. “You look beautiful.”
“Well, thank you.” She curtsies, and she might think she looks innocent, but she looks anything but. This woman oozes sensuality and elegance all at once. And her scent— God , it drives me wild thinking about how her pussy must smell.
“Are you okay, Harvey? It’s not like you to drink so much,” she says once we’re nestled together on the couch.
“I’m fine, Claire. Just thought I’d have a few beers.”
“I don’t believe you.” She says it so matter-of-factly, I almost want to laugh at her for calling me out on my bullshit.
I sigh and rub a hand quickly over my face. “I felt lonely. The truth is, Henrik wasn’t here, and I wanted to ask you out on a dinner date, but I didn’t want to rush things.” She looks at me intently and rubs my arm, and it gives me the courage to open up more. “I felt guilty too…regarding Gemma. Because I’ve been so happy with you,” I continue, “and tonight that hit me hard.”
“It’s okay, Harvey—”
“There’s more.”
“More?” she asks, growing still.
“I drunk texted Gemma.”
She releases a breath, her eyes narrowing, and I hate that my actions are responsible for wiping the smile off her face.
Good job, you dumbass.
“Anything I should know?”
I rack my brain, trying to remember every text I sent, but come up short save for the texts about me being a burden to her and my family.
“No, nothing major.”
“You’re worrying me, Harv. I knew that things were too good to be true.”
I shake my head, taking her hand and intertwining our fingers. “They’re not, they’re perfect—everything is as it should be.”
She chuckles lightly. “Your words are perfect, Harvey. I sure hope your actions match them.”
“Look”—I swallow—“I told you I needed time to process the breakup. Clearly, I’ve been hanging out and talking only to you, and kissing only you.”
“I don’t doubt that, but I still have insecurities.”
“Understandable. We got off on the wrong foot, and I’m trying to untangle everything. That takes time, but it’s worth doing properly.”
She strokes my bearded cheek before toying with my hair. She does so many things and says so many things that make me feel good. And the thought that she’ll be my wife one day stirs something in me.
“You know…you should wear dresses like these during the week,” I tell her, hoping to lighten the mood.
She tilts her head to the side. “I’m not sure that would be appropriate attire.”
“Can’t we pretend I’m the boss and I get to decide? Maybe we can have a the patient is always right policy,” I tease.
She laughs, and I take that moment to push her hair behind her ear. “Harvey.” Her laughter dies with her soft voice as she stares at me intently.
I pull her atop my body in a swift motion, glad I didn’t mess this one up. I love that she doesn’t question what I can and can’t handle physically. It soothes my soul when her fingers weave through my hair again as we’re kissing.
I could do this all day, all night.
Kiss her.
Be with her.
Talk to her.
When we pull back, I admire her face, her cute little ears and gold earrings.
“Are you okay with this so far?” I whisper, tilting my body against hers.
She simply nods. She doesn’t say a word before she kisses me again.
I don’t know if she means it or not. Perhaps she doesn’t want to take it too fast either, out of fear of heartbreak.
But she has nothing to fear—I won’t break her heart.
We kiss slowly at first, so slowly. I savour everything. Her lips, her smell, her tongue. It all gets me worked up, and God , I want her. Especially while I’m drunk on courage, hard as stone, and I peed before she got here.
“I want you,” I tell her, moaning softly when she kisses my ear then my neck before she licks my Adam’s apple.
“Trust me, I want you badly too,” she says, breathless, as she grinds against me.
I want to feel her. I want to smell her and ravish her.
“We shouldn’t though… You drank a lot and…” she says, debating.
“Shhh.” I shush her with my finger. “I’m not wasted. Besides, doesn’t this feel right to you?”
“It does physically.” She sighs. “I just don’t know how right it’ll feel emotionally tomorrow morning.”
“I won’t hurt you, Claire. Not in the way you imagine. I asked for time not because I’ll go back to her. I promise you I won’t.”
“Okay,” she says simply, softly, her voice a mesmerizing melody to my ears.
I trace her cheek with my forefinger before brushing my lips against hers in a short kiss. One of my hands is holding the back of her neck as we stare at one another—knowing we both want and crave more, wondering if now is the right time.
She seals the decision for me when she slides off my lap to remove her dress.
I swallow, admiring the view of her face and body. When she removes her bra and underwear slowly, staring me down the whole time, I’m astonished.
She steps closer, then leans down and grabs my hand and places it over her heart. “Don’t hurt me,” she whispers, and I shake my head, focused on the softness of her skin as she straddles me again.
The moment of truth merges with my anxiety when she unzips my pants. I know that things went well last time, but now she’s straddling me naked, and the last thing I want to do is disappoint her.
“I’m on the pill, by the way,” she tells me, and it shouldn’t sound so sexy, yet the thought of coming inside her thrills me to no end.
She plays with me for a long while. Her mouth does things to me.
By the time she’s on top of me again and her pretty pussy brushes my dick, I’m stargazing on a summer night.
She’s so wet as she slides over me with unyielding strokes. She leans down to kiss me fervently, and I respond with equal passion. My hand is around her neck as she continues to grind, and we continue kissing.
“Oh, Harvey…”
“Mm-hmm.”
“This feels so good,” she murmurs.
I lean into her ear and whisper, “Then why don’t you slip it in?”
She nods, and when I pull back to look at her, her eyes are gleaming with lust and love and this pure look of awe.
I’m right there with you, Claire.
When I’m finally inside her, I’m truly worried I’ll come too soon.
Her eyes stare at me like they’re dazed and high off something. Our lips reach for each other again, and I don’t want this to end. I want to cherish her and this memory for the rest of my life.
“Slow down,” I tell her sensually, though I’m brimming with anxiety inside. “Touch your clit for me, Claire.”
She touches herself with one hand while slowly grinding against me. She throws her head back, and I can tell that this is my cue. She’s going to find her release, and I want to grab her and thrust into her until I find mine too.
“You’re so perfect for me, Claire.”
We stare at each other during this moment of heightened pleasure and uncontrollable emotion, yet our stare is the most intimate gesture of all. We stare at each other like we’re each other’s world and we’ll do anything to keep it that way. I look at her and all I can see and dream and think about is my future.
I grab her by the waist and thrust into her harder, evoking harsh moans from her until, out of nowhere, a knock sounds on the door, loudly.
We both freeze.
“Is it Henrik?” she asks, panting, leaning toward me to hide her chest.
“No.” I try and think clearly, but the booze is slowing down my thought process. “Hen’s got a key.”
“I’ll go check,” Claire says as she gets up and reaches for her purse to take out a satin robe. “Do you need help cleaning up?”
I shake my head, pulling my jeans up.
Whoever’s at the door is a cockblocker.
I mean, it’s almost midnight—what the hell do they want?
I can’t make out who Claire’s talking to until the sound increases, and I hear Gemma’s voice telling Claire to move. I’m taken aback by her presence and the fact that she’d talk to Claire that way.
Gemma walks over to me like I’m a scared little kitten and says, “Harv, hey. Are you okay?” Even the way she’s walking toward me attests to the fact that she’s worried about talking to me freely and spooking me. “You sounded off when you texted me.”
Oh, that.
I can’t believe she came all the way over here and ruined Claire’s and my first time together.
“He had a few beers,” Claire interjects. “It’s okay for him to live a little too.”
Seriously.
“Yeah, but he’s going through a lot right now,” Gemma throws her way.
Am I though? Even with Gemma in front of me right now, I can admit that I missed her a bit and she’s familiar, but I’d never trade that for what I have with Claire.
“I know,” Claire agrees. “That’s why I…”
“Leave,” Gemma whispers, and it takes me a minute to realize she’s talking to Claire.
“I have every right to be here.” Claire crosses her arms over her chest, her cheeks more than rosy now—they’re purely blushing with embarrassment.
Gemma turns to me. “Harv, tell her to leave .”
I don’t even know what to do or say. I’ve never seen Gemma like this. Maybe she has something important to share with me?
I turn to Claire and give her a small nod, trying to indicate that she can go to my room while I find out what Gemma wants.
I wish I could tell Gemma to fuck right off.
That she can’t treat my future wife like that.
But something stops me.
Maybe it’s the years we spent together or the fact that this girl took care of me when most of my friends dipped post-accident, or maybe it’s the fact that I’m curious as to what she has to say.
Either way, I don’t doubt for a second that Claire will be angry about this.
When Claire heads to my room, Gemma comes closer and drops to her knees in front of me, holding on to my hand, her eyes focused on my tattoo.
“Harvey.” She shakes her head. “Promise me you won’t hurt yourself.”
I snort. “I’m just tipsy. Didn’t mean to scare you.” I chuckle, and it feels good to laugh and let loose and drink.
Fuck, what did I text her? I can’t remember all my texts.
“ Promise me. ”
The drama, Gemma.
“I won’t kill myself.” I roll my eyes. “If I wanted to, I would’ve done so a long time ago.”
I’ve thought about it—many, many times.
Not necessarily in a planning way, so perhaps there’s a distinction there. It’s more like I’ve had days when I wished I weren’t alive.
When I wished I could disappear.
Gemma nods, biting her lip, looking worried. “I hate that you could so easily give her what you couldn’t give me.”
I don’t know what to tell her.
It barely even crossed my mind that she could’ve heard us when she knocked, but I’m sure that’s what she’s referring to.
I stroke her hair in a friendly gesture. “I hate myself for it too. But it wouldn’t have mattered. As long as you would’ve met him and I her, it wouldn’t have changed anything in the long run.”
She looks away, seeming to be in her own world as always. “How are you, really ?”
I can’t tell her I’ve been doing really good. Besides, the truth is, nights have been hard. “I have good and bad days.”
She takes my hand and presses it over her heart. “One phone call and I’m here. Okay?”
Jesus, what did I text her? Is this because of the burden text?
She always did care for me and tend to me. That was part of the problem though—she cradled me and treated me like broken glass.
Claire treats me like I have wings and can soar and fly and live .
With her, I just am. With her, I’m more than disabled, more than my disability. I’m a fucking person.
Yet even with all of that, Gemma had her own special qualities as well. Her stillness was often mindfully calming.
My eyes fill up with tears, thinking about past memories of us when we were young and happy. “I’m trying hard, Gemma. It’s not easy without you. You brought something with your silence. You comforted me.”
She stands and leans forward to kiss my cheek before walking to the door.
“Be happy, Harv. Be the happiest happy person you can be because that’ll make me happy.”
I nod as Claire walks out of my room.
I wish I had the mental strength to tell Gemma that she has it all wrong. I was so worried about losing her before we broke up, but once she left, I realized something. I didn’t need to be happy for her ; I need to be happy for me.
I transfer to my chair once Gemma’s gone and wheel to the kitchen to get my phone. I’m too curious, now that my buzz is slowly wearing off, to see exactly what I texted her.
“I can’t believe you,” Claire says accusingly.
She uncrosses her arms, and when I look up from my phone, I can see that she’s been crying. I wheel closer to her and grab her hand, but she swats me away.
“Do you feel better about yourself? You constantly say one thing and then you go and do the exact opposite .”
“Claire, what’re you talking about?”
“Oh, stop pretending, Harvey! Your ex-girlfriend comes over while we’re having sex —for the first time, mind you—and you back her up and ask me to leave…”
I swallow. “It’s not like that…” I spit out, my speech rushed. “We just broke up, and I—”
“So don’t have sex with me, then! It’s clear you’re not over her. That I can accept. I even understand it. But the fact that she came here tonight and you kicked me out—”
“This was her home not even two weeks ago! And I didn’t kick you out, you went in the other room.”
She scoffs, hands on her waist. “You’re unbelievable.”
“Claire, listen to me…”
“What did you really text her?” she asks, brows knitted together, frustration painted all over her face.
I look down at my phone and read the texts, knowing that this isn’t going to end well. Panic rises in my blood, and my shallow breathing picks up the pace. We’ve fought before, Claire and I, but this time is different. It feels more real.
This time, I can tell I hurt her.
What’s wrong with me?
I should’ve told Gemma to fuck off! Why couldn’t I do that to the woman who cheated on me? Still, I don’t want any secrets between us. I want a clean slate with Claire. No buried secrets or exes or depression.
I swallow and turn the phone around, imagining how she must feel reading the words in her head.
Harvey: How could you do this to me? Was I too much of a burden?
Harvey: A buden to u, bden to Hen and paents.
Harvey: Rmber I love yaxoi.
Her face reddens as tears trickle down her cheeks. I want to catch them one by one with my thumbs, but I refrain.
“I…I didn’t remember everything I texted…” I reply softly.
“Yes, well…” She swallows, drying her tears. She turns and fetches her purse and heads to the front door.
“Please don’t leave. I was drunk.” I’m pleading with her now. “I don’t want her…don’t you get that? I just wanted to know what she had to say. Even if she wanted us to get back together, I don’t want her . Does that not count for something?”
“It counts for something.” She pulls on her coat. “Yet again, they’re just words. You showed me plenty with your actions tonight.”
“Claire! Don’t go.” I can sense the emotions tugging and pulling at my heartstrings.
She can’t leave me too.
I want and need Claire.
I don’t want this woman out of my life, and I need her to fucking breathe. Does she not get that? Does she not understand that I can’t be without her? It clearly doesn’t matter, though, because she still grabs her stuff and leaves.
I’m crushed.
I want to call Gemma and shout at her.
I’m angry at myself for bowing down to Gemma instead of having Claire’s back.
How can Claire leave me?
She’ll come back. She has to.
The panic in my veins slowly transforms into fire. I’m wheezing at this point, unable to control my breathing.
I don’t even think about it when I grab the lamp and throw it against the wall and then pick up a few picture frames, throwing them across the living room.
Claire, come back, please.
I try and breathe, but the anger is overtaking everything.
I want to scream, but nothing comes out.
In the wake of my destruction, everything within me is barbed with rage. And holy fuck, it’s so much easier to deal with. I want to cut myself and paint the fucking walls with my blood. I want to destroy every inch of this house and burn my goddamn wheelchair.
I grab more house decor and throw the items with all my might. Just then, Henrik walks in with a big smile on his face, but his face falls when he sees me.
He kicks off his boots swiftly. I see the movement, but everything else is a blur.
“What’s wrong, Harv?”
I shake my head and shove my face into my hands. The anger is diminishing by the second with Henrik’s presence, yet I still can’t think properly.
“Breathe, man, it’s gonna be okay.” Hen pats me on the back, then he sits on the couch and signals for me to go to him, so I do. I wheel closer to the couch, but I don’t transfer this time, having spent all my energy destroying things. “Gemma or Claire?” he asks, high as a kite.
“Both,” I mutter, looking away from him.
“Damn.” He sighs, pushing hair out of his face. “What happened?”
I wish he would let me be silent and miserable all alone.
I wish he hadn’t showed up and I could’ve spent and emptied myself a little further.
“Gemma came over to see me. She was rude to Claire, and I didn’t defend her, so Claire left.”
Henrik frowns, and I know he probably can’t picture Gemma being a dick to Claire either. Up until now, even with everything that transpired between us, Gemma has kept her cool. Maybe it’s the fact that she heard or saw us fucking? I’m sure that wasn’t fun for her.
“What’s bothering you most?”
I stare behind him. “Claire left.”
“She’ll be back. She literally works here.”
I shake my head. “I messed up for good this time.”
“Harvey.” He opens his mouth to say something, then stops short before he continues. “If you chase Claire right now, she won’t get the best version of you, brother. You’re hurt.”
Deep down, I know there’s some necessary preaching and valid lessons in there, even from a guy who’s never been in love.
Yet I don’t want to listen.
All I can think about are Claire’s tears and her face when I nodded at her to leave the room. It pains me to even think about it.
I let her down. Again.
Why should she even forgive me this time around?
“I’ll be fine,” I tell Henrik, hoping to convince myself.
“I know you will.” He gives me a small smile, and I know he’s ready to pass out in his bed. I know his ritual.
I wheel backward and stare at him for a few seconds. “You know, you shouldn’t get high and drive, Hen.”
“Pfft.” He throws a hand in the air. “The po-po’s too slow for me.” He laughs.
“It’s not about the police.” Sometimes people make me want to scream. “Do you want to end up like me ?”
He looks at me, bewildered, as I barely chastise his actions even though I don’t agree with them, and we both know it.
“I’ve built up a tolerance to it.”
“Think of others, Henrik, and yourself—you wouldn’t last a day in my chair.”
He seems taken aback by my comment. “You know what? You don’t need to be a dick about it!” He stands before cleaning up my mess without another word, and I know I pissed him off.
I don’t blame him. I can be an asshole.
But the fact that he puts himself at risk triggers something in me.
I know he’s young and immature and figuring his life out—hell, I am too, even now. I just don’t want my brother getting hurt.