Chapter 16
CONNOR
Istood inside the kitchen and watched Harper through the sliding glass door that led out onto the side porch.
She was standing at the railing, her silhouette backlit by the orange glow of the firepit I'd lit an hour ago.
The flames danced and flickered in the evening breeze, casting shifting shadows across the wooden deck planks.
She wore dark jeans that hugged her legs and a soft cream-colored sweater that hung off one shoulder.
My favorite on her, though I'd never told her that.
Her arms were wrapped around herself despite the warmth radiating from the fire, her posture small and defensive in a way that made my chest ache.
She stared into the flames with an intensity that worried me and hadn't moved in the three minutes I'd been watching. She stood there, perfectly still except for the occasional shift of her weight from one foot to the other, her red hair catching the firelight and turning copper and gold.
The evening air drifting through the partially open door smelled like burning pine and the clean, sharp scent of impending rain. Chester lay at my feet, his golden head resting on his paws, occasionally glancing toward the door like he could sense something was off too.
She'd been like this since she got home last night.
Distant. Distracted. I'd tried asking her about it this morning over coffee when I'd seen the dark circles under her eyes that makeup couldn't quite hide and how her hands trembled slightly when she lifted her mug.
But she'd just smiled that brittle smile that didn't reach her eyes and said she was tired, that work had been busy, that she was fine.
Fine. The most dangerous word in the English language when Harper said it, right up there with “I'm handling it” and “don't worry about me.” Especially considering the last time she was supposedly fine, she was being threatened and her apartment burned down.
I couldn't keep standing here watching her spiral into whatever was eating at her.
I slid open the door causing the metal track to make a soft scraping sound that she didn't seem to hear and stepped out onto the porch.
The temperature had dropped with the setting sun, the March evening air biting through my flannel shirt, raising goosebumps on my arms. But the firepit radiated enough heat to make the space comfortable, the warmth hitting my face as I moved closer.
My boots were quiet on the wood planks as I approached. Harper still didn't turn or seem to register my presence at all, her gaze simply fixed on the flames with an expression I couldn't quite read. Fear? Fascination? Remembrance of smoke and fire and jumping from a window to survive?
I came up behind her slowly, carefully, and wrapped my arms around her waist, covering her own arms where they hugged her middle.
I pulled her back against my chest, feeling the softness of her sweater and the warmth of her body through the fabric.
My lips pressed to the curve where her neck met her shoulder, breathing in the vanilla scent of her body wash.
She jumped like I'd electrocuted her, her whole body going rigid, a sharp intake of breath cutting through the quiet crackle of the fire.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” I murmured against her skin, my lips moving up the column of her neck in apology. The pulse point under my mouth was racing, her heartbeat frantic and fast. Too fast. “Didn't mean to startle you.”
I felt her force herself to relax, the tension draining from her shoulders in a way that seemed deliberate. Controlled. Like she was making herself calm down rather than actually feeling calm.
“It's okay,” she whispered, but her voice was thin. Breathy. Still staring at the fire even though my arms were around her, even though I was right here trying to ground her in the present instead of whatever memory had its claws in her.
My jaw tightened as I watched the flames reflect in her wide green eyes, the way she couldn't seem to look away from the orange and gold dancing in the firepit.
She had to be remembering her apartment, smoke filling her lungs, flames reaching for her as she climbed out a second-story window in bare feet.
The thought made my arms tighten around her involuntarily, made anger surge hot in my chest at whoever had done this to her. At myself for lighting the fire without thinking about what it might trigger, and at the whole goddamn situation that had put that haunted look in her eyes.
I slowly turned her in my arms, moving gently, until she was facing away from the fire and looking at me instead. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, her pupils dilated in a way that said she'd been somewhere else entirely. Somewhere dark.
I cupped her face with both hands, feeling the coolness of her skin against my palms despite the fire's warmth.
Her cheekbones were sharp under my touch.
I'd have to make sure she ate more, maybe pack lunch for her to take to work so she didn't skip meals.
Another thing to worry about on a growing list.
I kissed her slowly, reverently, pouring everything I couldn't say into the touch of my lips against hers.
I'm here. You're safe. Whatever's wrong, we'll fix it together.
Her mouth was soft under mine, yielding but passive, and it took a long moment before I felt her hands come up to grip my biceps and kiss me back instead of just letting me kiss her.
When I finally pulled back, her eyes had cleared slightly. The haunted look had receded, replaced by something that looked almost like gratitude.
“Are you ready for this?” I asked quietly, my thumbs brushing across her cheekbones.
The question had layers. Was she ready for people to see us together as a couple?
Was she ready to face questions and knowing looks and the inevitable gossip?
Was she ready to stop pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn't?
Her smile was genuine, small but real, curving up slowly in a way that made my heart skip. She nodded, her hands squeezing my upper arms where they'd settled during our kiss. “Yeah. I'm ready.”
But her eyes said something different. They said she was carrying a weight I couldn't see or help with because she wouldn't tell me what it was.
I opened my mouth to push, to ask if she was really feeling alright because she'd looked exhausted when she'd gotten home last night, because she'd barely touched dinner, because I could feel her slipping away from me even when she was right here in my arms. But the sound of tires on gravel cut through the evening quiet, followed by the distinctive rumble of Jaxon's Jeep engine.
I turned just enough to see him pull up near the house, headlights sweeping across the barn before cutting off.
Anna was already climbing out of the passenger side before the engine fully died, her blonde hair catching the last rays of sunset.
Jaxon followed more slowly, grabbing something from the back seat.
They rounded the front of the house, their footsteps on the gravel audible even from here, then appeared around the side, climbing the porch steps with easy familiarity. Just following the routine of Saturday dinners at my place.
Except tonight was different. Tonight, everyone would know that Harper and I were together. Really together. Not just friends, not just her staying at my place temporarily. Together in a way that meant something permanent and real and exactly what I'd been wanting for six years.
I moved so I was standing next to Harper instead of in front of her, my arm sliding around her shoulders, pulling her into my side.
She fit perfectly there, her head just below my chin, her body warm against mine.
I pressed my lips to her temple, feeling the rapid flutter of her pulse, and whispered against her skin, “Just breathe.”
Then Anna saw us.
Her gasp was sharp and sudden, cutting through the evening air like a bell. Then came a squeal, high-pitched and delighted, the kind of sound that probably scared wildlife for a mile radius. “Oh my God! Finally! Finally!”
Before I could tighten my arm or prepare myself, Harper was yanked away from me.
Anna had crossed the distance in three quick steps and pulled Harper into a hug so fierce I heard the air whoosh out of Harper's lungs.
They stumbled slightly, Anna still squealing something unintelligible while Harper's face pressed into Anna's shoulder.
“I knew it! I knew something was different! When did this happen? How long have you been—oh my god, I have so many questions!” Anna's words tumbled out in a rush, muffled slightly by Harper's hair.
I let out a breath, half-amused, half-annoyed at having Harper stolen from me, and turned to find Jaxon walking past the embracing women with a knowing smirk on his face.
He slapped me on the shoulder, the impact solid and congratulatory, and mumbled, “Congrats, man. About damn time.” Then louder, with that trademark drawl, “Thought I was gonna have to lock you two in a room together.”
“Shut up,” I said, but I was smiling despite myself.
I followed him into the kitchen, the warmth and light of the house was a sharp contrast to the cool evening outside.
The smell of pot roast filled the space that I'd started this morning, letting it cook low and slow all day until the meat was fall-apart tender and the vegetables were soft.
Comfort food. The kind of meal that said home and all the things I wanted Harper to feel here.
Jaxon set a case of beer down on the kitchen table with a solid thunk that made the bottles clink against each other.
He pulled one out, twisted off the cap with practiced ease, and handed it to me before opening one for himself.
Condensation was already forming on the cold glass, and I took a long drink, the bitter taste grounding.