“The first one on the right.” Simon turned his head to gesture, causing more droplets of blood to dislodge from his chin. It dotted his t-shirt. Harlow would make sure he paid for his dry cleaning. “Use my towel. It’s the one with the blue, white, and black stripes.”
Dutifully, Harlow rose. Before he made his way to the bathroom, he retrieved Simon’s glasses from where they’d fallen and returned them to him. Most likely, Simon wouldn’t want to put anything near his nose until the swelling had receded, but Harlow figured they’d be a comfort, anyway. With a little hum of thanks and a smile that sped Harlow’s heart, Simon set them on his chest. From there, Harlow headed down the hall to the first doorway on the right.
Before he entered the bathroom, he paused to look at the broken door at the end of the hall, behind which he was sure he heard Evie whispering in frantic, rushed fragments. Someone else was behind the door—one of Simon’s brothers, if what Simon said could be trusted. His whispers joined Evie’s, their sound lower and distinct. Harlow wasn’t sure what to think. On one hand, Simon had been a close contact for years. Harlow had entrusted him with sensitive information and had asked Simon to bend the law more than once so he could gain an advantage during otherwise unpleasant situations. It was Simon who’d hacked the cameras in and around Gwynning’s wedding venue, and it was Simon who’d set them up to stream on Harlow’s phone while he was in town. He’d been the one who’d run a quick background check on Mal, xVerity’s now-fiancé, before they’d gone off together for the very first time, and the one who’d provided Harlow with Evie’s location... leading Harlow right to his own apartment.
What was he supposed to think of that?
Simon had proven himself through past actions, but now, having found Evie in his home, could he be trusted? Harlow’s gut said yes, but his mind warned him to be cautious of a man who knew more than most. It felt like too big of a coincidence that of all places in the world, of the billions of people alive and the millions of homes in Aurora, that Evie had ended up with someone Harlow was closely associated with—someone he knew very little about, but who knew far too much about him.
With that in mind, Harlow opened the door cautiously. He flicked on the light. No traps sprang, and no one was waiting for him on the other side. Instead, he found a small, empty bathroom. It was equipped with a shower stall, a toilet, and a cabinet upon which had been fitted an undermount sink. A makeup bag had been left on the countertop, a few black brushes left out with various bristle patterns and lengths. A jar of translucent powder was left open beside them.
Harlow glanced up at the mirror hung above the counter. It had seen better days. One of its corners was decorated with faded, peeling stickers no bigger than a penny, each of them depicting a piece of construction equipment. The top corner was broken, spiderweb spaces between the shards revealing the mirror’s plain backing.
There was something about the mirror that struck Harlow as tragic, and he had to look away.
The towel in question hung on one of the three hooks on the back of the bathroom door. Harlow grabbed it, then returned to where Simon lay on the floor. The kitchen, he noticed, was next to where Simon had fallen, so he detoured inside and grabbed the promised bag of broccoli from the freezer, then took it and the towel back to Simon. When he returned, he lowered himself to his knees and looked at Simon’s nose again.
Simon took the towel and the broccoli from him, setting it on his lap. “Is it… bad?”
“Yep.” Harlow glanced into Simon’s eyes and discovered too late that it was a mistake. Tears sparkled in them, turning the depths of his blue irises bottomless. Harlow’s heart paused like it wasn’t sure what to do, only to speed up once he looked away. Keeping his hands busy was his safest bet. The shock of finding out that it was Simon who’d taken his daughter was doing strange things to his head. “But you know what? It could be worse, and itdefinitelywould be worse if you hadn’t let me know it was you.”
Simon narrowed his dangerous eyes in confusion. Harlow tried not to look. “I’m not following.”
“I don’t tend to set the noses I break. It’s a little counterintuitive, you know?”
“Oh.” Simon looked down at the towel, then up at Harlow. “Is that what you’re doing? What do I need to do?”
“All you need to do is listen to me.” Harlow freed the towel from Simon’s lap and handed it to him to hold. “… and accept that your life is going to suck pretty hard for the next, uh, three minutes or so.”
Simon sighed. “Great.”
Even his disappointment was adorable. Harlow pushed down the butterflies that had taken flight in his stomach and focused on the task at hand. One of his contacts was injured by his own hand—it was up to him to make sure he got out of this with minimal detriment to his health.
“What I need you to do first is blow into this towel.” Harlow gestured at the towel in question. “It’s going to sting like a bitch.”
“Blow like… my nose?” Simon gawked.
“Yes, blow, like, your nose.” Harlow raised an eyebrow. “We’ve got to flush the mucus and the blood out, and there’s only one way to do it.”
“I feel like if I blow my nose, my face is going to rip off.” Simon went to chew nervously on his bottom lip, then seemed to think better of it—it was covered in blood and likely unappetizing.
Harlow nodded in agreement. “I told you that life is going to suck for the next three minutes or so. After you empty your nasal passages, everything’s going to get better fast. I promise.”
Simon took a deep breath through his nose, lifted the towel to his face, and looked at Harlow as though Harlow had just canceled Christmas. Then, squeezing his eyes shut, he blew his nose into the towel and shrieked in pain. When he tore the towel away, it was wet and glossy with dark blood.
“Good,” Harlow praised.
“Good?” Simon set the towel down. “How is that good?”
“It means it’s not in you anymore.” Harlow threaded his fingers together and cracked his knuckles. “It’s going to be absolutely necessary when I do this—” Without any other warning, he braced his fingers on either side of the bridge of Simon’s nose and pulled them downward, aligning the broken cartilage. Simon gasped and struggled in an attempt to distance himself from the pain, but Harlow knew to expect resistance, and he stayed the course until the job was done.
As soon as he released Simon, Simon jerked back and sank onto the floor. He stared at the ceiling, his chest visibly rising and falling as he took breath after panted breath.
“You probably feel dizzy.” Harlow picked up the bag of frozen broccoli from Simon’s lap and held it over his head, offering it to him. “Dizzy and nauseated, most likely. That’s natural. Give it five to ten minutes and it’ll pass.”
“What’s the broccoli for?” Simon asked while panting. “You’re not… you’re not going to make me stick it up my nose, are you? Eat it for… for nutrients, or whatever, to recover from blood loss?”
“No.” Harlow glanced from Simon to the broken door at the end of the hall, doing his best to remember why he was there. Evie was waiting for him—he needed to tend to his daughter, not spend the rest of the night caring for a young man who was too adorable for his own good. “You need to ice your nose. You’re about to swell up, and the ice is going to help. Make sure that you’re gentle.”
Simon took the broccoli from him, then glanced from it to Harlow. Disbelief overshadowed the pain in his eyes. “Yeah… somehow, I don’t think you need to worry too much about that.”
He laid the bag across his nose, careful of the break, then let out a whoosh of air from his lungs and deflated on the floor. As he did, Harlow stood. His business here was concluded. The unexpected ally he’d injured on his way in was on his way to being better—it was time to take care of his next order of business.
Behind the broken door down the hall there was a problem that needed to be resolved, and while it wasn’t the problem he’d expected to encounter, it was no less troubling. Evie was hurting in ways Harlow never could have anticipated, but no matter what, he would be there for her.
He had to. She was all that he had left.
He would see her smile again.
