Mental whiplash, but I followed his lead, inhaling through my nose, scenting the air. This motel smelled better than the usual ones, but there was still that musty smell that inhabited every cheap motel. “Dust.”
“Explain it to me.”
“What?”
“Explain it to me. What does dust smell like?”
“Umm…” I’d never had to describe the smell of dust before, my mind trying to think of the best words. “Stale? Umm… Old. Earthy? I don’t know.”
“What can you hear?”
Beyond his voice there was silence, and it felt loud and daunting.
“N-nothing.”
“No. There are sounds. What are they?”
I grunted in frustration, but I tried. I listened, tuning into my surroundings. Distant voices. Distant traffic. The low hum of electricity from harsh lighting. And no more banging. No more red and blue. No more police. I inhaled deeply. The ball of panic had receded inside me before I was even aware of it, and I was breathing.
I held Harper’s hands tighter, and they no longer trembled. Feeling safe enough, I turned toward the door. Still dark. Still closed. Still separating us from the rest of the world. “The police—”
“They’re gone,” he told me. “They weren’t here for us. They were next door.”
I breathed deeper. They weren’t here for me. “Why didn’t you tell me that before?”
“Would you have believed me?”
I swallowed, because we both knew the answer was no. Panic was louder than reason, fear louder than hope. But I could thinkproperly now. Harper had pulled me back from the edge before I’d even realized that was what he was doing.
I searched his eyes, and still found them firm, not in a way that was cruel but in a way that was certain. Reliable. Strong. There was more to him than I’d originally seen, a strength I hadn’t noticed and relied on more than I wanted to admit.
I pulled my hands back slowly. “I’m okay now,” I told him, waiting for the questions, the demand for an explanation, for him to ask what I’d done.
He didn’t.
He just looked at me like he saw far too much before he nodded, standing again and going to the kitchen area, and returning with a glass of water for me. I didn’t want it, but I took it anyway, a stray droplet running down the side to wet my fingers.
Harper crouched in front of me again, his eyes a weight that oddly felt welcome. I didn’t like being seen like that, being perceived as vulnerable. But he wasn’t looking at me with pity. He didn’t see me as weak. Instead, it felt like he was watching over me.
I thought about the conversation we had last night. “Maybe I’ll surprise you,” he’d said. Maybe he would. Maybe hecouldunderstand. I’d been keeping so much from Harper. Even last night I’dcut the conversation when it felt too real, told him I needed to smoke and lingered around the area until I’d thought he must have been asleep before coming back inside. At least that way I didn’t have to face the guilt that was slowly building over all the things I wasn’t telling him.
It was more than that. Even the things I had told him hadn’t been honest. They couldn’t be.Icouldn’t be. Not with him and not with myself.
“My love made him worse.”
It had to be the truth.
Despite not wanting the water, I finished the cup, setting it on the bedside table before finding my feet again, thankful that my knees didn’t betray me this time. Harper took my lead, standing as well, but as I made my way over to the two-seater table and the chair that held my leather jacket over its back, he slipped back into bed.
“You want to talk about it more?” he asked, smoothing out the blankets.
Yes.But I can’t. “Maybe later? Get some more sleep.”
He nodded, pulling the blankets higher. “Wake me if you need me, Jack. We’re in this together now.”
Would he still think that way if he knew the whole truth?
I slipped my arms into the sleeves, pulled on my boots, then parted the curtains to look over the parking lot. No police. They hadn’t been here for us—for me. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself before I reached for the door handle. The moment felt bigger than it was, like I was opening a seal that kept us safely inside. But I needed to think, and I needed to do it alone.
