“And you need to stop worrying so much.” Harlow’s hand squeezed, leaving Simon certain that if it happened again, his molecules themselves would implode. “It’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ve got this. No one has any weapons? Knives, guns…?”
“No,” Simon murmured. If he spoke any louder, he knew his voice would break.
“Then we’re fine. Do you think you’re able to go sit somewhere? The living room, the kitchen, your bedroom?”
“I don’t… don’t think it’s a good idea for me to—”
He never got to finish his sentence. Harlow’s hand tightened, and in the next moment, he’d stepped forward, crowding Simon’s personal space. This close, it was impossible to miss how much bigger Harlow was—tall where Simon was short, defined where Simon was slender, bold where Simon was meek.
Harlow dipped down, so close that the stubble on Harlow’s cheek brushed Simon’s skin, and whispered in Simon’s ear, “I was blind enough to hurt my own daughter without realizing it. I can’t let you suffer, too. Ican’t.I’m sorry, Kid.”
The hand on Simon’s shoulder dipped, sliding around to support his back. Another looped beneath his knees. Before Simon could compose a reply, Harlow lifted him from where he stood, carrying him in his arms like they were newlyweds. Simon, startled and too flustered for words, dropped the bag of broccoli on his nose. When he gasped in pain and jerked his head aside, it fell on the floor. Neither of them paid it any mind.
Nothing mattered much anymore—not when he was in Harlow’s arms.
Smooth, strong muscles supported him effortlessly from beneath. A firm chest braced him from one side. Simon’s head rested against Harlow’s broad shoulder, his legs left to dangle over his arm. Up this close, he should have been able to catch Harlow’s scent—the notes of his detergent, the fragrance of his cologne, and the underlying presence of alpha—but with his nose broken, he smelled nothing. Had he not been so incredibly overwhelmed to be tucked against Harlow’s chest, he would have felt robbed… but in this moment, realizing a dream he’d never thought would become reality, Simon couldn’t feel upset.
Harlowcaredabout him.
Drunk off the thought, Simon allowed himself to be carried down the hall and into the living room. He didn’t protest or cause a fuss when Harlow lay Simon with otherworldly tenderness on the couch, nor did he complain when Harlow started to leave. The kindness Harlow had shown him swept through Simon as an inner glow—its light pale but radiant, and its effects noticeable to no one but himself. It left his limbs feeling lighter than air and loosened his tense muscles.
The man he’d thought would rip him limb from limb cared for him—worriedabout him. He’d taken time out of his reconciliation to make sure that Simon was comfortable.
Most of the time, Simon’s fantasies veered into the obscene—Harlow was exactly the kind of man who’d fuck hard and fuck often, who’d guiltlessly take what he wanted from an omega willing to give him anything. But today, Simon saw a new facet to Harlow: caring, vulnerable protector.
“Stay here,” Harlow urged from the living room doorway. “You’ll feel better soon. I’ll take care of what’s waiting down the hall, and then I’ll get out of your hair, okay?”
Simon couldn’t find the strength of will to lie, so he didn’t respond at all.
He didn’t want Harlow to go.
“I’m sorry I hurt you, Kid.” Simon’s eyes flickered up to watch Harlow’s lips move as he talked. How was it that such a simple thing could captivate him so entirely? For the rest of his life, Simon would hold on to these memories. Harlow, in the flesh, whispering tender words meant only for him. “I screwed up. That’s on me. It seems like I’ve been screwing up a lot lately, but I hope you can still find it in your heart to forgive me. I’m doing the best I can.”
“I forgive you,” Simon croaked. Mucus in his throat caused his words to crackle. “It’s no big deal…”
At least, not in the way Harlow thought it was, but Simon couldn’t tell him that. What was he supposed to say?Hey, it’s okay that you thought I was a bad guy and broke my nose because my huge boner for you is causing all my blood to flow south, anyway, so I barely feel a thing. PS: if you’re ever in the mood to smash something that isn’t my nose, you know where I live.
Smooth.
“I’ve gotta go to Evie now,” Harlow said, interrupting Simon’s internal self-deprecation. “Once we have our talk and figure out what’s going on, you’ll be feeling better, and we can get this whole thing sorted. Sound good?”
“Sounds great,” Simon’s tongue said on autopilot.
“Then I’ll be back soon. Hang in there.”
Harlow left the room, and with him left the last of Simon’s composure. It had to be a dream. Ithadto be. Nothing so good ever happened to him anymore.
But there was still warmth where Harlow had touched him, and the glow housed behind his bones wasn’t blinking out. It filled Simon up where he’d been empty and ignited the spaces inside him that had long ago burned out.
It was hope, Simon realized as he stared at the crack in the ceiling, tracing it with his eyes. Hope that he had never experienced within these walls.
Now that he had it, he never wanted to let it go again.
