Chapter 34
Thirty-Four
DECKARD LAY IN BED, the covers tossed to the side, his pillow crushed under his head. Sharp ice pellets bounced off the windowpanes like tiny knives stabbing the glass. He hoped the windows didn’t crack under their pulsing force.
But it wasn’t the ice keeping him awake. It was the beautiful woman in the living room. He’d offered to stay up with her, but she insisted he get some rest. He prayed she got the same. She was running on fumes. Barely nodding off for a few hours each night before the nightmares returned.
Getting to his feet, he strode to the window.
The cold floor penetrated a chill deep in his feet, snaking up his legs.
He hopped as he moved, trying to stave off the cold wrapping itself around him.
Time to throw another log on the fire. He moved for the hearth and grabbed the poker to jab the embers back to life, then added another log.
He rubbed his hands, and his mind flitted back to his dad. Seeing him after all these years of being free from him . . . as terrible as that sounded. But they’d never truly be free until he was behind bars, just like their mom.
He exhaled. Of course their dad was alive, hiding like the coward he was. At least their mom had taken a hit for it, landing in prison for a twenty-five-year sentence.
He tried to shake off the thoughts, but they sneaked back to his childhood and the destruction he’d been reared in.
Don’t let him get to you. He’s not coming back into our lives. I won’t let it happen.
He was just about to toss himself back into the bed when a high-pitched wail echoed from the living room.
He bolted down the hall and into the living room.
He searched Harper’s panic-stricken face as she sat up on the couch, her hair matted to her face. “It’s all right,” he said without thinking in an effort to soothe her.
“No, it’s not.” She shook her head, her eyes red rimmed, her voice a mix of sleep and terror. “I’m not okay.” Brutal honesty slipped from her cracked lips.
“Oh, darlin’,” he said, stepping toward her.
“Do you think . . . ?” She hesitated a moment. “I mean . . . would you mind . . . Could I have a hug?” The vulnerability with which she asked squeezed his heart.
“Of course. You never have to ask.” He stepped forward and opened his arms, trying to figure out the best way to hug her while he was still standing.
“No,” she said. “Come sit with me.” She patted the couch beside her.
He gently eased down on the sofa, leaning back.
She blinked up at him and then rested her head on his shoulder.
He placed a kiss on top of her head. She nuzzled her face deeper into his hold.
He’d never experienced anything more perfect than her in his embrace, but her pain radiated all the same.
Seeing someone he cared about—cared far deeper than he’d imagined—so distraught churned his stomach.
An ache he couldn’t stop festered inside.
For the first time in a long time, he felt helpless, and it rattled him.
Harper gazed up at him. “Are you all right?”
She was in such pain, and she was asking if he was all right? “I’m fine.” His brows pinched. “Why do you ask?”
“Your entire body just went tense.”
“Old memory.” He didn’t want to bring up his childhood, or any reference to it, but somehow, Harper lowered his guard. He hadn’t felt helpless and shaken since being a kid—unable to help Riley the way he wanted and not knowing if his parents were ever coming back.
“I get that,” she said. “My memories are far too new.”
“Zero pressure,” he said, “but I’m always here if you want a listening ear.”
“Thank you,” she said. “One day, I’ll take you up on that.”
He brushed the matted hair from her brow, his touch light, but his anger flared at the sight of another bruise by her temple. “Would you like to watch a movie?” he asked. “Perhaps distract your thoughts for a while?”
“No, thank you. I want to stay just like this, if that’s okay?”
“Of course.” Better than okay. He’d stay like this all night, every night, if it eased her fears.
And maybe his raw, unfiltered honesty would help her too.
It would take a lot, but for the first time in his life, he wanted to give a lot to a woman.
She didn’t know it, but he loved her and would do anything for her, including this.
He cleared his throat, and she gazed up, making this harder. “I just wanted you to know you aren’t the only one.”
She arched a brow. “The only one who . . . ?”
“Who’s a mess. I mean, I don’t think you’re a mess. I think you’re just going through a really traumatic time. That would be excruciating on anybody and take loads of time to heal. I’m the mess.”
She sat up and turned to face him, bringing her knees to her chest. “What are you saying?”
“I should have thought this through better.” He raked a hand through his hair.
“You’re doing just fine.”
He was anything but fine. His heart was racing, perspiration on his brow. Why was this so difficult for him when Grey and Riley could speak so easily with each other? Speak nearly incessantly when together, like the words just spewed forth.
“Honey?” she nudged.
He’d called her that, but that was a first off her lips, and it gave him the courage to tumble forward with no clue where all this would land. “What I’m doing a horrible job at saying is you’re going to be okay one day. I truly believe that.”
“And you?”
“I’m beyond repair. Not that what happened to me was anywhere near what you must have endured . . .” This was coming out all wrong.
“It sounds pretty traumatic, and it went on for a long time. I don’t think you should belittle it.”
“I just want you to know I see your strength and your bravery, and I know God is going to help you push through this and come out stronger.”
“But you?”
“I’m the one who let my siblings down.”
“How? You brought everyone together, and Ri said you led her to Christ.”
“After I abandoned her.” He shifted, linking his arms over his chest.
“She said you got her into a good children’s home until you could come get her.”
“Until I got my act together. If I’d stopped pulling gigs or taken her with me and raised her as my own . . .”
“You were fifteen, not an adult.”
“I wasn’t where I was supposed to be. I didn’t know Jesus until I was seventeen—going on eighteen.”
“Then you got her out and brought her home with you.”
“But I could have done it sooner if I wasn’t following in my parents’ footsteps.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to cover the moisture beading in his eyes. “If I’d been stronger . . .”
She scooted toward him, rubbing his knee. “You’re one of the strongest—if not the strongest—people I know. That’s why it’s so hard for me to struggle like this around you. I should be stronger.”
“You know I don’t believe that.”
“I know, but . . .”
“Hey.” He tipped his chin up. “I love you exactly as you are, and you are the strongest woman I know—and that’s saying something with Cool Whip around.”
She stared at him. “You think I’m stronger than Riley?”
He nodded.
“And did you just say . . . ?”
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
She tilted her head. “You love me?” Disbelief blanketed her face, and she scooted even closer. “You just said you love me.”
He cleared his throat. Moment of truth. “I do love you.”
She cupped his face—her hands warm, her touch tender. “I love you too.”
He jutted his chin back. “After what I just told you about me, about who I was in the past?”
“You are not your past, and, yes”—she held his gaze—“I love you,” she enunciated each word, then leaned closer and rubbed his jaw, before raising her lips to his.
He soaked in the moment, her movement soft and tentative at first, then she fell into him, deepening the kiss.
He reached up and ran his hands through her hair—slow and easy.
She murmured, and he deepened the kiss even more, pouring all his love into her. How she loved him, he didn’t know. But she did, and that was all that mattered . . . minus the people trying to kill them, but in this moment, all that faded away until it was just them.