Chapter 8 #2
She stared at me for a long moment, and I could see the war playing out behind her eyes. Pride versus desperation. Independence versus the reality that she had no other options, that she was out of options.
Finally, she nodded. Just a small movement, barely perceptible, but it was enough.
I looked back at Williams. “Is she free to go?”
“For now. We'll need a full statement at some point, but for tonight, yes. Get her somewhere warm and safe.” His expression softened slightly, something almost fatherly crossing his weathered features. “Ms. Walsh, I'm sorry this happened. We'll do everything we can to figure out who's responsible.”
Harper nodded again, but I could see she was barely holding it together. The adrenaline was wearing off, shock setting in, and she was shaking despite the blankets wrapped around her shoulders.
“Anna, thank you for calling me. For staying with her.” I met Anna's eyes, saw the concern there that matched what I was feeling, what was probably written all over my face.
“Of course.” Anna hugged Harper carefully, like she might shatter. “I'll bring clothes over tomorrow. And anything else you need.”
“I don't have anything.” Harper's voice cracked again, breaking on the reality of it.
“Then we'll get you everything.” I steered her toward my truck, keeping one arm around her shoulders because I could feel her legs shaking and how close she was to collapsing. “Come on. Let's get you out of here.”
She didn't argue or protest. Just let me guide her across the street, her bare feet moving slowly, carefully across the cold asphalt. Without thinking, I stopped and scooped her up, blankets and all. She gasped, her arms going around my neck automatically.
“Connor, you don't have to—”
“Yes, I do. Your feet are bare and the ground is frozen. I'm not letting you walk.” I carried her to my truck, hyper-aware of how light she felt in my arms. Too light, like she'd been skipping meals. Like she'd been slowly disappearing and I'd been too stupid to notice.
I settled her into the passenger seat and wrapped both blankets around her more securely before cranking the heat as high as it would go.
She stared straight ahead at the burning building as I circled to the driver's side.
The orange light reflected in her eyes, and I could see tear tracks cutting through the soot on her face.
I climbed in and immediately directed all the vents toward her, adjusting them with shaking hands.
“I can't believe this is happening,” she whispered.
I reached over and took her hand, lacing our fingers together. Her hand was ice cold, trembling in mine like a trapped bird. “You're safe. That's what matters. We'll figure everything else out.”
“Connor—”
“We'll figure it out,” I repeated firmly. “Together. Okay?”
She looked down at our joined hands, then up at my face. Studied me for a long moment like she was trying to decide if I really meant it.
Finally, tears started sliding down her cheeks again, cutting new paths through the soot. “Okay,” she whispered.
I put the truck in drive and headed home, Harper's hand still clasped in mine. All these months of tension, distance and things unsaid between us. But tonight, none of that mattered. Tonight, the only thing that mattered was getting her home safe.
The drive back to the ranch was quiet except for the hum of the engine and the blast of the heater. Harper stared out the window at the dark landscape passing by, her hand limp in mine, her breathing slow and shallow.
I didn't try to make conversation. I didn't know what to say that wouldn't sound hollow and useless. What do you say to someone who just lost everything?
Halfway home, I felt her hand tighten in mine.
“Connor?”
“Yeah?”
“The fire marshal said it was arson.” Her voice was small in the darkness, fragile. “Someone did this on purpose.”
“I heard.” My jaw clenched, anger mixing with the fear I'd been pushing down since Anna's call. Someone had done this on purpose, had deliberately set fire to the building. “Harper, who's Armand? You started to say something back there.”
“He's…” She stopped, took a shaky breath that rattled in her chest. “This man came into my boutique a few days ago. Said his name was Armand Beaumont, that he was a business consultant. He knew things about me. About my finances. Things that should have been private.”
Her voice was getting quieter, like she was ashamed of every word. “He offered to help. Said he represented investors who could give me a loan. No credit checks, no judgment, favorable terms.”
“But you said no.”
“Of course I said no. Connor, everything about it felt wrong. He was too smooth, too prepared. Like he'd been researching me, stalking me.” She pulled her hand from mine to wrap her arms around herself. “And then he made it clear that refusing their 'help' would have consequences.”
The pieces were clicking together, forming a picture I didn't like at all. A picture that made my blood run cold. “Harper, why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“Because I didn't want—” Her voice cracked. “I didn't want to be that person. The one who's always in trouble, always needing help. I thought I could handle it myself.”
“By handling it yourself, you mean keeping it secret and hoping they'd go away?” The words came out harsher than I'd intended, frustration bleeding through.
“I know it was stupid.” She was crying again now, quietly, tears sliding down her cheeks. I pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, tires crunching on gravel as I put the truck in park and turned to face her.
“Harper, look at me.”
She did, reluctantly, her eyes swam with tears that caught the dashboard lights.
“You should have told me. Should have come to me the second Armand walked into your shop.” My voice was harder than I intended, edged with frustration and fear that I couldn't quite control. “You should have let me help instead of trying to carry this alone.”
“I know—”
“Do you? Because you could have died tonight. If you'd been sleeping harder, if you hadn't woken up when you did…” I couldn't finish the sentence or let myself imagine Harper not making it out of that building. “Harper, you could have died.”
“But I didn't. I woke up. I'm okay.”
“This time. But these people aren't going to stop.” I took her face in my hands, making sure she was really hearing me. “And you can't keep hiding from me. From everyone. No more secrets. No more trying to handle things alone. From now on, you tell me everything. Understand?”
She nodded, fresh tears spilling over, running over my hands. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Connor. I didn't mean for any of this to—”
“I know.” I pulled her into my arms as much as the truck's center console would allow, awkward but necessary. “I know. But we're going to fix this. We're going to figure out who's behind this, and we're going to make sure you're safe.”
“How? I don't have anything. No home, no clothes, no—”
“You have me.” The words came out fiercer than I intended, raw and honest. “You have me, and Anna, and Jaxon. You have people who care about you. And we're not going to let you go through this alone.”
She pressed her face into my shoulder and cried, her whole body shaking with sobs. I held her while the heater blasted and the darkness pressed in around my truck and the anger simmered in my chest.
Someone had done this to her. Had threatened her, terrorized her, and finally tried to burn her alive.
And I was going to find out who.
After a while, when her sobs had quieted to hiccups and shaky breaths, I pulled back onto the road and drove the rest of the way to the ranch in silence.
When we finally pulled up to my house at 4:23 AM according to the truck's clock, Harper was half-asleep against the window, exhausted and shock finally pulling her under.
“We're home,” I said quietly.
She blinked awake, disoriented, her eyes unfocused. “What?”
“We're at the ranch. Come on. Let's get you inside.”
I came around to her side and helped her down, keeping one arm around her when her legs wobbled. She was still barefoot, her feet had to be freezing and they were cut up from jumping onto roofs and concrete.
I just picked her up, blankets and all.
“Connor, you don't have to—”
“Yes, I do.” I carried her up the porch steps, shouldering open my front door. Chester immediately tried sniffing at Harper, his tail wagging, but I nudged him back gently with my knee.
The house was dark and quiet, familiar and safe. I carried Harper straight up the stairs to the guest room. The one with the attached bathroom and the queen bed I'd bought a few years ago when Tessa had visited. The one Anna had stayed in when she'd first come here.
I set her down gently on the bed and turned on the bedside lamp. Warm light flooded the room, and I got my first good look at Harper since pulling her into my arms at the fire.
She looked terrible. Beautiful, but terrible.
Soot streaked across her face in dark smudges.
Her hair was tangled and matted, smelling like smoke.
Her thin t-shirt and flannel pajama pants were dirty and torn in places, showing scrapes underneath.
Her feet were filthy and scraped, bleeding in spots. Her hands were raw, palms torn up.
“Let me get you some clothes. And we should clean those cuts.”
“Connor, I'm fine. I just need to sleep.”
“Harper—”
“Please.” Her eyes met mine, and the exhaustion there was so profound it physically hurt to see. “I'll shower in the morning. I'll deal with everything in the morning. Right now, I just need to not think for a few hours.”
I wanted to argue, to insist she at least wash her face and hands, let me bandage the cuts. But the look on her face stopped me.
“Okay. But I'm getting you clean clothes at least. You can't sleep in those.”
I went to my room and grabbed sweatpants and a t-shirt from my dresser. Both would be huge on her, but they were clean and soft and smelled like laundry detergent instead of smoke. I grabbed thick socks too, because her feet had to be freezing.
When I came back, Harper hadn't moved. Just sat on the edge of the bed staring at nothing, her hands loose in her lap.
“Here.” I handed her the clothes. “Bathroom's through that door. Take your time.”
She took the clothes mechanically and disappeared into the bathroom. I heard water running, heard her moving around, and tried not to think about how small she'd felt in my arms. How fragile.
She emerged a few minutes later in my clothes, the sweatpants were rolled multiple times at the waist, the t-shirt hung off one shoulder, and the socks bunched around her ankles. Her face was clean now, scrubbed pink, making the exhaustion even more visible.
“Better?” I asked.
“Yeah. Thank you.” She climbed into bed, moving slowly like everything hurt, and I pulled the covers over her, tucking them in around her shoulders.
“Try to sleep. I'll be right down the hall if you need anything.”
“Connor?” Her voice was small, almost childlike.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. For coming. For everything.”
I reached out and brushed a strand of damp hair from her face, my fingers gentle against her temple. “Always. You need me, I'm there. That's how this works.”
She closed her eyes, and I watched her for a moment longer to make sure she was settled, that she was breathing evenly, that she was safe.
Then I left her to sleep and headed to my own room.
But I didn't sleep.
I lay in bed and stared at the ceiling as my mind raced in circles. Arson. Someone had deliberately burned down Harper's apartment building. Had disabled the smoke alarms. Had maybe been trying to kill her.
And Harper had been keeping things secret. Had been dealing with threats and financial problems and God knew what else completely alone because she was too proud or too scared to ask for help.
No more. Starting today, no more secrets.
I pulled out my phone and texted Anna, even though it was nearly five in the morning.
Harper's asleep. Can you come by later today with clothes? And anything else you think she'd need?
The response came immediately. Anna was clearly awake too.
Anna
Already planning on it. How is she?
In shock. Exhausted. But physically okay.
Anna
And you?
I stared at the question for a longer than necessary as my thumb hovered over the keyboard.
Scared. Angry. Someone might’ve tried to kill her, Anna.
Anna
I know. We'll figure this out. Get some sleep. I'll be there around noon.
I set down my phone and closed my eyes, but sleep wouldn't come. All I could see was Harper's apartment burning. All I could think about was how close I'd come to losing her before I'd ever really had her.
Tomorrow, I promised myself. No more waiting. No more being afraid. But first, she needed to survive whatever was coming.
And I would make damn sure she did.