Chapter 9
Harper
Istand frozen in the middle of the locked bathroom, staring out the window. When I imagined moving to Charleston after getting married, I pictured the thrill of living in the city, old brick streets, wandering through farmers’ markets, fingers laced with my husband’s.
Yet all I see are railroad tracks and the barbed-wire fence encircling the base.
Trapped.
Trapped the same way I was growing up—but worse. Now, I have a baby. I can’t escape. I can only make the best of it.
I glance down, away from the drab view. The toilet paper roll is empty—another thing I missed, along with the spaghetti pot and the pan of brownies I didn’t clean up promptly.
Daniel’s family is here to see the baby, but they’ll expect coffee and brunch. I need to be presentable, social, put on a smile, and pretend to be happy.
I can’t muster it, though. I can’t even muster the energy to move.
Should I be this tired? Why does my body hurt so much?
My mother-in-law’s boisterous laugh carries up the stairs of the townhouse and into my small, quiet space. She’s not a bad person. It’s me; I’m exhausted. I spent the day yesterday cleaning after grocery shopping, in between caring for a newborn.
My boobs leaked at the store, dampening my black T-shirt. I made it home just in time to change a saturated pad as thick as a soiled diaper. I felt disgusted with my own body, even though no one else knew.
Then the baby woke every other hour during the night.
How do women do this?
A fist pounds on the door. “Harpy,” he hisses. “Hurry up. They’re here.”
Harpy—the new nickname he started using, which I’m certain is not endearing.
He said they wouldn’t arrive early. It’s eight a.m. I haven’t brushed my teeth yet. I should shower—a shower would help—but I don’t have the time. Or the energy.
Tears flood my eyes as I pull back the curtain. I slide down the shower wall, collapsing into the cold, empty tub, the same place I used to hide when I was a little girl.
I tip my head back. I’m so tired. I just want them to go away. I want everyone to go away—everyone except my baby.
I hate being this person. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I be happy?
Danny’s scream pierces the air, and I flinch, dragged from a memory I have no idea what triggered. Muffled voices and the continuous sound of the TV drift into the guest bedroom, and my eyelids burn with unshed tears.
“Shh.” I rock him in my arms, my shoulders aching. “The sun went to sleep. Now it’s your turn.”
It’s after nine p.m., and he’s so overtired, he can’t form words—only cry. He kicks his feet and arches his back, trying to break free. The twins and Lucas are here, playing video games with Jax. Danny wants to be involved, and I know they don’t mind, but no one wants a screaming kid around.
I hear noises in the hallway, and my anxiety spikes. “Danny, please. It’s bedtime.”
The kitchen is cluttered with dishes from Jackson’s three-course meal—crab cakes, roasted red pepper and tomato soup, wild Alaskan salmon with grilled asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes. Aurora is pregnant; she shouldn’t be cleaning. I should be helping, not hiding in my bedroom.
The door creaks open. I expect it to be my brother and, despite myself, feel a rush of relief—but it’s not him.
Rocco slips into the dimly lit room. Without a word, he lifts my son from my arms. “Pack a bag for you two.”
Danny stops flailing at the sound of Rocco’s deep voice, his breakdown fading into raw, hiccupping wails.
I’m equally grateful and ashamed. “Why?” My pulse pounds in my tight throat. “Are they asking us to leave?”
He frowns. “What? No, of course not.” He shakes his head and shifts Danny higher. “I know a neighborhood full of Christmas lights,” he tells him. “Want to go for a ride and see them?”
My son nods, drawing in shuddering sobs, his face flushed and tear-streaked.
“Take a deep breath first.” Rocco fills his lungs to demonstrate, and Danny copies him. “Good. Again.” He repeats the process until Danny sags against his broad chest, the fight draining out of him.
Obsidian eyes find mine. “Don’t forget his new jacket and hat—yours, too. We’ll stay at one of my places tonight. It’ll be quieter.”
One of his places?
“But—but your family is here,” I say, gesturing toward the door. “And someone has to wash the dishes. Jackson cooked. I should—”
His expression turns humorous, brows raised, a slight smirk tugging at his lips. “There are six grown-ass men here who can handle the dishes just fine—and if they can’t, I’m sure Jax has a cleaner on speed dial. Get your stuff.”
I don’t know how to respond. I’m exhausted, emotionally and physically spent. My mind is lagging, as if my thoughts are wading through molasses. “You don’t have to, really. We’re—”
“Harper.” His gaze locks with mine, steady and unwavering. “Danny is overstimulated—a lot is going on here—and you need a break. Let me help. I have a cabin outside the city. I’ve already packed his toys and called for a car.”
Butterflies flutter in my stomach from both fright and excitement. “How long will we stay?”
“A few days, if that’s okay with you. Unfortunately, I have to return to court on Thursday. Your brother has our location and threatened to call. If you don’t answer, he says he’ll come find you.”
I give in. What do I have to lose? I grab Danny’s jacket and hat, and, while Rocco helps him get dressed, I pack the only two bags we have.
We say our goodbyes, Reece promising to rescue me anytime, day or night. Dante and Desmond follow us out of the building, carrying our gifts. At the curb, a sleek black SUV idles.
A man with dark hair dusted with snowflakes stands beside the open rear door, his sharp gaze sweeping the area. He’s clearly more than a driver—and also not a professional, exchanging a middle finger with Dante.
Despite the man’s intimidating demeanor, he offers me a warm, familiar smile.
While the twins load our bags, Rocco guides me with a hand at the small of my back, my son half asleep against his shoulder. Once Danny is in his car seat, he’ll be out. He won’t be awake long enough to see the lights.
Rocco stops at the vehicle. “This is Alexei, another nephew of mine. He’s your personal protection. He’ll stay at the property with us so Danny can get used to him.”
The mountain of a man nods politely. “Good evening, ma’am. Merry Christmas.”
“Hi… Nice to meet you.” I glance from Alexei’s hulking frame to Rocco’s matter-of-fact expression. “Protection?”
He adjusts Danny in his arms. “Yes. Since Reece took a bullet for Jax and is now considered family, the twins have been assigned as Aurora’s security detail, and Ethan refuses to let them go.”
My heart drops. “My brother took a bullet for Jax?” Reece told us he was a federal agent. I assumed he’d been shot in the line of duty.
“Let’s save that conversation for later.”
I climb into the SUV, sliding across the leather seat. The scent is new and expensive. The interior is spotless—no crumbs or stray toys, no Cheerios ground into the carpet, no sticky handprints on the windows. I’ve crossed into another world entirely.