Chapter 22 #3
I pulled her into my arms before she could spiral further, before the panic I could see building in her eyes could take over completely.
I wrapped her in a tight embrace and wished I could do more, like go back in time and camp out in front of her boutique all night and hunt down whoever did this and make them pay for every tear on her face.
I wished I could take this pain from her and carry it myself because I could handle it better than she could right now.
She collapsed against my chest, her sobs finally breaking free, loud, wrenching, and full of all the pain she'd been holding back.
All the fear from the fire, all the stress from the threats, all the exhaustion from pretending everything was fine when it clearly wasn't. It all came pouring out in sobs that shook her whole body.
I held her while she cried, one hand cradling the back of her head, my fingers threading through her tangled hair.
The other arm wrapped around her back, holding her as close as physically possible while her tears soaked through my shirt and her hands fisted in the fabric like she was afraid I'd disappear if she let go.
“I've got you,” I murmured against her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with dust. “Harper, I've got you. You're not alone. You're never alone.”
She cried harder at that, her whole body shook with the force of it, and I just held her tighter because what else could I do?
I couldn't fix this. I couldn't rebuild her boutique with my bare hands or hunt down the people who'd destroyed it or make the past twelve hours disappear.
All I could do was hold her and let her know she wasn't facing this alone.
I let her cry without trying to shush her or tell her it would be okay, because maybe it wouldn't be okay, and she deserved to grieve for what she'd lost. She'd been holding it together for so long.
Through the apartment fire that could have killed her, the threats that kept coming, the break-in at my ranch, and weeks of living in fear while pretending everything was fine for everyone else's sake.
She'd been so strong. So impossibly, incredibly strong in ways that most people would never understand.
But everyone had a breaking point, and Harper had finally reached hers.
I'd have sat there holding her for hours if that's what she needed.
Days. However long it took for her to feel safe enough to stop crying, to believe that I wasn't going anywhere, that we'd figure this out together.
Around us, broken glass glittered on the floor like scattered diamonds.
Ruined merchandise lay in heaps that represented thousands of dollars in lost inventory.
The walls showed gaping holes that would cost money Harper didn't have to repair.
Everything she'd built over six years lay in ruins around us.
But she was still here. Still breathing. Still alive and whole in my arms despite someone's best efforts to break her completely.
And that was all that mattered.
Eventually her sobs quieted to hiccuping gasps, her grip on my shirt loosening slightly though she didn't pull away. Just stayed pressed against my chest like she was drawing strength from the contact, breathing in shaky patterns that gradually evened out.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice raw and hoarse from crying. "I'm sorry for falling apart. I should be dealing with the insurance, talking to Davies, figuring out how to—"
"No." I pulled back just enough to cup her face in my hands, my thumbs brushing away tears that wouldn't stop falling. "Harper, you're allowed to fall apart. You're allowed to be devastated. Your business was just destroyed. Anyone would be a mess right now. You're human, not a machine."
"But I need to be practical. Need to figure out—" Her voice hitched. "There's so much to do. Insurance claims. Police reports. Salvage what I can. I need to—"
"Let me handle it." The words came out firm, leaving no room for argument.
"Let me deal with the insurance company.
I'll call them first thing in the morning, start the claim process, handle all the paperwork.
I'll coordinate with Davies to get you copies of the police report for the claim.
I'll come back and document everything for the adjuster, take photos, make lists of what was damaged. "
"Connor, I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking. I'm offering." I kept my voice gentle but firm. "Harper, look around. Really look."
She did, her eyes scanned the destruction with fresh tears welling up as the full extent of it hit her again.
"This is too much for one person to handle right now," I continued, making sure she was listening. "You're in shock. You're exhausted. You've been through more trauma in the past two months than most people experience in a lifetime. So right now, what you need to do is let me take you home."
"Home." She said the word like she wasn't sure what it meant anymore, like the concept had become foreign.
"The ranch. Our home." I emphasized the word deliberately, wanting her to understand it wasn't just my place anymore—it was ours. Hers as much as mine.
“Let me take you back to the ranch. You can shower, eat something, and rest for a few hours. And tomorrow, when you've had time to process and you're not running on fumes, we'll come back and start dealing with all of this.”
“But the insurance—”
“Can wait until tomorrow. Davies has all the photos he needs for his report.
The scene is documented. There's nothing you can do right now except torture yourself by staying here and staring at everything you've lost.” I stood, pulling her up with me, keeping my hands on her shoulders to steady her when her legs wobbled. “Come on, sweetheart. Let's go home.”
She looked around the boutique one more time, her expression lost and devastated like she was saying goodbye to something that had died. “Six years,” she whispered again, the words barely audible. “Connor, six years of my life is just…gone.”
“No.” I turned her to face me, making her look at me instead of the destruction because I needed her to hear this.
“The building is damaged. The merchandise is destroyed.
The physical space is a mess. But six years of experience?
Six years of relationships with customers who love you?
Six years of learning and growing and becoming an incredible businesswoman who built something from nothing?
That's not gone, Harper. That's still here.” I tapped her chest gently, right over her heart.
“They can destroy your inventory. They can trash your boutique.
But they can't destroy you. Not unless you let them.”
Fresh tears spilled over, but she nodded slowly like maybe she was starting to believe me. “Okay. Okay, let's go home.”
I kept my arm around her shoulders as we walked toward the door, steering her around broken glass and overturned fixtures, protecting her from the sharp edges that would cut her if she wasn't careful.
My boots crunched on debris with every step, each sound a reminder of what had been done to her, of how badly I'd failed to keep her safe.
Jaxon was waiting just outside, his expression concerned in a way that said he'd been listening through the door, ready to step in if I needed backup. Davies stood nearby with his notepad, looking like he wanted to ask more questions but had the grace to hold off.
“I'm taking her home,” I said to both of them, not a question. Not asking permission.
“Good,” Davies said, tucking his notepad away in his shirt pocket. “Ms. Walsh, we'll need a full statement tomorrow when you're feeling up to it. But for now, get some rest. We'll have deputies keeping an eye on the boutique overnight, make sure no one comes back to finish the job.”
Harper nodded numbly, not really processing his words, her eyes unfocused in a way that worried me.
“I'll follow you back,” Jaxon offered, falling into step beside us. “Make sure you both get there safe. Then I need to tell Anna what happened before she hears it from someone else.”
“Thanks, Jax.” I squeezed his shoulder briefly in gratitude, knowing what it cost him to watch Harper fall apart like that, knowing he blamed himself almost as much as I did. “I appreciate you being there for her.”
“Always,” he said simply, because that's who Jaxon was.
I guided Harper toward my truck, feeling her move like she was sleepwalking.
Mechanically, without really seeing where she was going.
I opened the passenger door and helped her climb in, her movements slow and uncoordinated like her body wasn't quite responding to her brain's commands.
I buckled her seatbelt when her hands fumbled with the clasp, when it became clear she wasn't capable of doing simple tasks right now.
“Connor?” Her voice was small, lost, nothing like the strong woman I knew.
“Yeah, sweetheart?”
“Thank you. For coming.” Her voice broke on the words. “For everything. For not letting me deal with this alone.”
“Always.” I pressed a kiss to her forehead, breathing in the scent of her. “Harper, I'll always come when you need me. There's nowhere else I'd rather be than right here with you, even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard.”
I closed her door gently and walked around to the driver's side, my mind already running through everything that needed to happen.
I'd get her home, make sure she ate something, get her into a hot shower that would hopefully wash away some of the shock.
Call her insurance company myself if she wasn't up to it.
Talk to Davies tomorrow about what they'd found.
Start making plans for how to fix this because that's what I did.
I fixed things, solved problems, took care of the people I loved.
And I loved Harper more than I'd ever loved anyone in my life.
This wasn't over, not by a long shot. Whoever had done this was going to pay for every tear on Harper's face, for every piece of her dream they'd destroyed. I'd make sure of it.