Eric
I’d checked the locks twice before bed. Then a third time. Front door. Back door. The mudroom. The kitchen windows. Even the old latch Dad still insisted worked fine, despite being older than Asher. Harmony went upstairs to the guest room while I stayed on the couch, staring at the ceiling, listening to the storm rattle the gutters. Every shift of wind made my muscles tense. Someone had been in her shop. Someone had left a thistle. They were watching her. And the silhouette in her loft window, it probably wasn’t my imagination. The thought made something cold and violent uncoil inside me.
I pushed to my feet and paced the living room. The clock read 12:14 a.m. I wasn’t sleeping anytime soon. After a few more restless minutes, I headed upstairs for a shower, anything to wash off the sense that I’d narrowly missed something. The water came out hot, steam filling the bathroom, but it didn’t settle the tightness in my chest. All I could think about was Harmony’s face when she saw the note. The way she shook but still tried to stand tall
when she whispered, “I’m tired of being afraid.” It broke something inside me, knowing how much she had to deal with at such a young age.
The water hit my back in heavy streams. I closed my eyes and braced my hands against the tile, letting the heat force my muscles to unclench. When I finally shut off the tap and stepped out, the cool air rushed against my skin. I wrapped a towel around my waist, opened the bathroom door, and nearly collided with her.
Harmony stood barefoot in the hallway, drowning in one of Sandy’s borrowed sleep shirts, hair damp from her own shower, eyes soft in the dim light. For a second, neither of us moved. Her gaze flicked to my bare chest, then to the towel, then rapidly back to my face, her cheeks flushing instantly.
“I . . .sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t know you were up.”
“It’s fine.” My voice came out lower than I meant. “Couldn’t sleep.”
She hesitated, fingers twisting in the fabric of her shirt. “Me either. Every time the wind hits the siding, I jump.”
She let out a shaky breath. “Would it… be okay if I stayed with you? Just for a bit? I don’t want to be alone right now.”
The part of me that had wanted her near for years pulled taut.
“Yeah,” I said softly. “Come on.”
I stepped back, letting her into my room. The old floorboards creaked under her feet. She perched on the edge of the bed. I pulled on a T-shirt and pajama pants. She lay down tentatively, leaving space between us. I lay beside her, close but not touching. The silence settled warm between us.
“Do you think fear ever goes away?” she whispered suddenly.
I turned my head. Her eyes were open, glinting faintly even in the dark.
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “But you don’t have to make it disappear alone.”
Her lips parted. “When my mom died… everything good left with her. After that, surviving felt easier than hoping.”
My chest tightened.
“You deserve more than surviving, Harmony.”
She swallowed. “Sometimes it feels like Olivier and Nico are pulling strings I can’t cut, even after all these years.”
“You’re not seventeen anymore,” I murmured. “They don’t get to control you.”
She shifted closer, it was barely an inch, but enough her shoulder brushed mine. My breath caught.
“Why do you always come back?” she whispered.
I could’ve lied. I could’ve said something easy. But the truth slipped out before I could stop it.
“Because I’m yours, even when you don’t want me to be.”
She inhaled sharply. Her hand drifted under the blanket until her fingertips brushed mine. Tentative. Searching. Brave.
I let my fingers curl around hers. We stayed that way for a long time, the storm easing outside, her breathing slowing inch by inch, until she finally fell asleep with her forehead resting lightly against my shoulder, her hand still holding mine. I didn’t move. Not even when my arm fell asleep. Not when the storm stopped. And not when the house settled into silence. I stayed right there, listening to her breathe, the weight of her trust sinking deep into my bones.
When dawn crept through the curtains, she was still curled against me. Peaceful. Soft. Safe. Carefully, I eased out of bed, tucking the blanket around her. I headed downstairs, brewed coffee, and stepped onto the porch. The storm had passed. The orchard glistened. Everything looked washed clean. But when I stepped off the porch to get more firewood, something caught my eye. Mud near the side of the house.
A footprint. That was not mine. Not Dad’s either and it was fresh. My jaw locked. Whoever was watching her wasn’t done,and they had the nerve to come onto our property again. A property that belonged to the police director of this town. That meant something. They weren’t scared of law enforcement. I made myself a promise in that moment, I wasn’t letting them get anywhere near her.
CHAPTER 19
