He nodded, and we started on our way back, keeping a lookout for police or security or anyone who might be after us.
Harper was quiet the whole way back, deep in thought even as we closed the motel room door and sealed ourselves away from the rest of the world. I started unloading the items from my pockets onto the table, and he did the same, dumping his crumpled boxes and packets of snacks in a heap.
Something was still bothering him. I understood it—the weight of being cared for, of being helped, how uncomfortable it could feel. I’d spent so long not caring about anyone but myself, but I cared about him, and it didn’t feel like a burden. It felt like purpose. Like hope. The weight of running lessened because we shared it.
I was going to tell him as much, but he spoke first.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, Jonah. I really mean that.”
It took a second.
His words felt like comfort until they didn’t. Until I realized he’d said my name. My real name. Not Jack. He’d said Jonah.
Silence rang in my ears as I looked at him, his eyes cast downward, brow furrowed.
He knew my name.
I’d wanted to tell him so badly. I’d ached for it. Ached to connect with him in a way that was real and true and honest. Ached to hearsomeonesay my name. And finally, someone had. But I hadn’t told it to him. Instead of relief, instead of belonging, I felt the icy claws of dread unleashing in my gut, clawing their way up from the depths of me.
“What… what name did you say?”
I’d misheard him. I must have. I needed to have misheard him.
Harper was quiet, his expression doing something complicated before he smiled sweetly again, a mask sliding into place. “I said Jack.”
“No.” I stood up so fast the chair I’d been sitting in tumbled over onto the floor. “No, you didn’t.”
“What else would I have said?” He still smiled, and it looked like it always did when he smiled, but it felt wrong. It felt like a lie.
“Who are you?” My hand dipped into my pocket, trembling fingers seeking the switchblade. Pale eyes tracked the movement.
“Let’s not do anything hasty.”
“Who the fuck are you?” I shouted, pulling it free but not clicking it open. I was scared, but I didn’t want to hurt him. But what else was I supposed to do when it felt like the walls were closing in and crushing me?
Harper’s eyes were fixed on my hand. “I told you who I am.”
I shook my head, taking a step back, a step closer to the door. “No. You’re lying.”
I could see the exact moment when he decided to drop the pretenses. His whole face shifted. His eyes were cold, and the way he stared had me wanting to take another step back. I was biggerthan him, by a decent amount, but there was something about him that reeked of predator.
“Fine.” Even his voice seemed colder.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
“I told you who I am. That part wasn’t a lie.”
“So what parts were?”
“Oh, you know… just… everything else.”
I couldn’t swallow past the lump in my throat. It felt like the ground was opening up beneath me, and I didn’t know which way was up anymore. What was real?
“Are you really running from Benny?”
Harper laughed, and it was nothing like the sound I’d heard in the alley. Which one was real?
“My man would cut off his own hands before he ever harmed me with them. No, this—” He gestured at the fading bruise. “This was allyourman.”
