Chapter 7
SEVEN
HARPER
Yesterday, Dad bombarded me with a bag of “presents” he said Helen suggested I might need.
The shiny logo on the outside of the bag told me he’d really put his heart into wrapping them.
But I didn’t say no to the new laptop, new phone, and new earbuds—because apparently, seventeen years of abandonment can be fixed with Apple products. The irony isn’t lost on me that I’m now using his bribery to ignore him.
He’ll try to talk to me over the table at dinner, and I just wave to my earbuds and shrug, whispering, “Podcast.” He did say no phones at the table but not to leaving my phone upstairs with just my earbuds in at the table.
Right now, the laptop’s propped on my knees, and I’m sitting cross-legged on the bed—which is too soft, too high off the ground, too everything—waiting for the video call to connect.
My earbuds are in, and Sox is curled in my lap beside the laptop, purring so loud Z will probably hear her through the speakers.
Caleb helped me set my little baby up properly yesterday.
Hit up the pet store and got her actual kitten food, real litter, even a little pink collar.
He didn’t have to do it. Or agree to hide her from Helen and Silas.
But he did anyway, because apparently that’s just who Caleb is—the guy who helps even when there’s nothing in it for him.
The thought makes my stomach twist with something I don’t want to examine too closely.
Sox stretches, her tiny claws catching on the expensive fabric of the bedspread. I pet her absently, waiting for Z’s face to appear on screen. She nuzzles into my palm, warm and trusting.
I frown down at her even as my chest goes tight. Every morning, I wake up at five a.m. to her jumping on my face. It’s pretty damn cute, even to a cold-hearted bitch like me.
I’m not used to having all these fucking… feelings.
Luckily, the screen flickers right then, pixelates, and resolves into Z’s face.
Except seeing him makes my chest hurt, too.
God, he looks so tired. There are shadows under his eyes that weren’t there a week ago, and his hair’s hanging in his face the way it does when he hasn’t had time to deal with it. Usually, I give him a haircut every few weeks. My throat tightens. Who will cut it now?
Behind him, I can see the familiar peeling wallpaper of his bedroom. Home. The word hits different now—like something I left behind in a gas station bathroom.
“Hey, beautiful,” he says, and his smile is real but strained at the edges. Like he’s trying so hard to hold it together for me.
“Hey, yourself.” I try to sound light, breezy, like my heart isn’t currently attempting to claw its way out of my ribcage. “How’s paradise?”
His laugh is bitter. “Oh, you know. Living the dream.” He shakes his head, and there’s something in his eyes—something wounded. “You always did have a sense of humor about the shittiest stuff. That’s what I miss most, I think. How you made everything feel less... suffocating.”
Guilt lands like a fist to the sternum.
“Z—”
“Jesus, Harp, is that a cat?”
I brighten and grab Sox by her fuzzy middle, holding her up to the camera with a big smile. “Meet the newest member of the family.”
“Damn, they gave you a fuckin’ cat to try to win you over? Silas is laying down a real full-court press, huh, pretending he’s an actual dad now?”
I snuggle Sox back to my chest and nuzzle the top of her head with my chin protectively. “No, it’s not like that. She’s a… a stowaway. Silas doesn’t know I have her.”
Z brightens at that. “Oh. Cool.”
But just as quickly, the light fades from his eyes.
“Frank’s on another bender,” he says, casual, like he’s commenting on the weather. “I’ve been staying in the woods most nights. It’s actually kind of peaceful out there at night. Makes me think.”
“About what?”
“About how you’re probably better off where you are.” His voice goes soft. Gentle. “I mean, look at you. New laptop. New cat. Clean room. And you said that new stepmom of yours has been cooking real meals, right?”
I nod, something uncomfortable squirming in my gut.
“That’s good. That’s—” His voice cracks slightly. “You deserve that, Harper. You always deserved better than what I could give you.”
“Stop.” The word comes out sharper than I mean it to. The cat meows, and I set her down. She immediately scampers towards the closet as I lean into the camera. “You gave me everything, Z.”
“Did I?” He looks away from the camera, and even in the shitty lighting, I can see the hollows under his cheekbones. When did he get so thin? “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like the only thing I gave you was a reason to stay in hell with me.”
“That’s not—”
“I’m not saying it to make you feel bad.
” He turns back to the camera, and his eyes are so sincere it hurts.
“I’m saying it because maybe this is what was supposed to happen.
Maybe you needed to get out. At least one of us gets to see what a real life could feel like. I’ll live vicariously through you.”
But his face tells a different story. His face looks like he’s barely holding on.
“Have you been eating?” I demand, because I can’t handle this—can’t handle him being noble and self-sacrificing when he’s clearly falling apart.
He shrugs. “Here and there. Frank took the last of the grocery money for whiskey, but I’m managing.”
Managing. The word sits wrong, settles heavy.
“Z, that’s not managing. That’s—”
“I’m fine, Harper.” His voice firms up, gets that edge it gets when he’s decided something. “I’m fine. You don’t need to worry about me anymore. That was always your problem—taking care of everyone else when you should’ve been taking care of yourself.”
The words should be comforting. Caring. So why do they make me feel like I’m the one doing something wrong?
“I never should’ve asked you to stay as long as you did,” he continues, and now there’s something raw in his voice. “I should’ve pushed you to leave sooner. But I was selfish. I needed—” He stops himself, looks away. “Doesn’t matter what I needed.”
We sit in silence for a moment. In the shadows of his mostly darkened room, his eyes look sunken. Desperate. What happens to someone at the end of their rope when the last little bit gets taken away?
What if that someone is the only person who ever made me feel like I mattered?
“You’re shivering,” I say, noticing the slight tremor in his shoulders.
“Fall came early here.” He pulls his jacket tighter. “It’s starting to get cold at night now.”
Bobcats. There are bobcats in those woods. And Z is scrawny, always has been, and now he’s not eating and—
“The woods aren’t safe, Z.”
“Safer than Frank’s house when he’s like this.” His smile is sad. “At least the bobcats are honest about wanting to eat me.”
My stomach churns. Here I’ve been sleeping in a bed that’s too soft, eating walnut chocolate chip cookies Helen made from scratch, while Z is literally starving and sleeping rough and—
“I’m gonna get back to you,” I hear myself say. “I promise. I’ll get you out of there.”
His face does something complicated. “Harper, no. I told you—you’re better off—”
“Fuck that.” The words come out fierce. “I’m not better off. I’m—” My voice cracks. “I’m dying here, Z. Everything is wrong. I don’t belong with these people.”
“You’re just saying that because you feel guilty—”
“I’m saying it because it’s true.” And suddenly I’m certain. Suddenly, everything makes sense. “These people aren’t my family. You are.”
“Harper—”
“No, listen to me.” I’m leaning forward now, close to the screen, willing him to hear me. “I can get a bus ticket to Nacogdoches. It’s only a hundred bucks. I’ve been thinking about it and—”
His entire demeanor changes. The defeat in his shoulders straightens into hope. “Wait—you really thought about this?”
“Yeah, I—”
“When?” Watching hope come back into his eyes is everything. If I can just keep him holding on a little longer.
“I don’t know, I just—I saw the bus schedules, and I tried once already, but Silas stopped me.” Why does it feel like I’m trying so hard to justify myself? Because you’re failing him. “I just need to think it out this time, but I can get back to you. I know I can.”
But then his face breaks into the first real smile I’ve seen in a week, and suddenly that squirmy feeling disappears.
“Fuck, Harper.” His voice goes rough. “I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t want to be that guy who begs you to come back when you finally got out. But—” He swallows hard. “I don’t think I can survive much longer here without you. I know that’s fucked up to say, but it’s true.”
And there it is. The truth I’ve been feeling in my bones but was too scared to admit.
All I can do is nod.
“So you’re really coming back?” He’s leaning forward now, too, close to his screen. “You’re really—oh, thank god. When?” he asks again.
His face is so expectant.
“I need to figure out how to get the money first.” My mind is already spinning. “Maybe I could get a job, or babysit for some of Helen’s friends—”
“How long would that take?”
“I don’t know, maybe a few weeks—”
His face falls. “Weeks?”
And I see it then—really see it. How thin he’s gotten. How the bones in his wrists look too prominent. How he’s barely holding on.
“Do you think there’s any other way you could get the money? Like, doesn’t your stepmom keep her purse just… around? I bet you could lift what you need, and she wouldn’t even notice.”
I swallow hard.
“But I mean, I don’t want you to do anything that might get you in trouble.” He pulls back, his face in shadows. “Just if you think you could do it safely... And Silas fucking owes you, ya know?”
Again, all I can do is nod. He’s not wrong.
“And you want to come back? This isn’t—you’re not just doing this because you feel sorry for me?”
“No.” The word comes out certain. Strong. “You’re my family. I can’t stand being here without you. Because I—” My throat tightens.
His smile breaks open like sunrise. “I love you too, beautiful. Always have.” He reaches toward the screen like he could touch me through it. “Soon as you get here, we’ll go to the courthouse. Make it official. Then no one can separate us again.”
“Yeah.” I force a smile, ignoring the lead churning in my guts. But I feel better when I agree and reassure him. “No one can separate us then.”
“Be careful, okay?” His voice goes soft. “And text me when you get the money. I’ll meet you at the bus station.”
“Okay.”
“I’m so fucking hungry if I’m being honest,” he admits, and the vulnerability in his voice makes my chest ache. “That candy bar you gave me was the last real thing I had to eat.”
“What about the cafeteria?” I cry.
“You know Frank never fills out those forms for the free lunches. I stopped going to school anyway. I tried going by Smithy’s to lift some chips, but he chased me out.” A pause, then almost casual: “It’s different without you there to distract him.”
My full stomach churns, and I suddenly feel like throwing up the delicious meal Helen cooked for us, complete with the cookies for dessert. Here I’ve been pigging out, while Z’s literally starving. And he dropped out? Since when? Jesus, I feel like a goddamn monster. How did I miss that?
“I’ll come as soon as I can get the money,” I promise. Not weakly this time. With conviction. With purpose. “Two days. Maybe three.”
“Two days,” he repeats, and his smile is soft. Relieved. “I can make it two days if I know you’re coming home.”
Home.
After we hang up, I sit there on the too-soft bed in the too-perfect room, and for the first time since I got here, I know exactly what I need to do.
I’m going home. I’m saving Z.
And soon, we’ll be married.
I swallow hard.
And no one can stop us.