Fifty Shades of Him (h.s. au)

XXI

Why not Harry?

My head nods and Grace walks into the room, handing me my coat. I feel like a child, so vulnerable in their mother’s absence.

“How are you?” she asks, her cut healed nicely. I nod, not wanting to talk.

“It’s okay. I’ll take you home,” she assures, my eyes casted downward. The drive home is long, my eyes seeing H Publishing. He’s there. I know he is.

After entering the apartment, I change into a white sweater and leggings, lying on my bed. My eyes almost close until I hear voices.

“She’s not allowed to talk to anyone,” I hear Grace, my head turning to look at my door.

“Don’t you think I have a right to see her?” his voice asks. He’s here.

“Harry, she’s not even talking. She hasn’t said a word since that night. It’s so scary thinking my best friend is afraid of the world because that horrible man came back.”

My body gets up and I press my hands to my door, listening closer.

“I need to see her. What happened scared me. It’s been a long time; I haven’t slept or done anything because I’ve been trying to see her in that damn facility. Please, let me see her,” he pleads, my hand coming to the door handle. It’s locked. I can’t get out.

“Come tomorrow,” she says, the door heard as it shuts. It’s hopeless, my eyes scanning around the room. My window is slightly open to vent the heat out; my curiosity getting the best of me. I need to see him. He’ll understand.

After I pull a hoodie onto my body, followed by a jacket, I place boots on my feet and grab my phone. Regardless, I’ll be warm on my walk to his house.

The warmth is gone halfway through my trip and I nearly trip on my way up is driveway. I place the key in the lock and the gates open, my feet walking up the asphalt. My eyes scan up to his office, seeing him pacing back and forth on his phone in front of the window. His hand is tugging on his hair and I melt at his features, his face so concerned about the topic he’s speaking about.

My hand fists up and I knock on the front door, waiting for him to come down. If I know him, he’ll figure out that I have a key.

Footsteps are heard and the lock becomes undone, the door swinging open. Harry’s dress shirt is unbuttoned at the top and his sleeves are pushed to his elbows. The white material is still tucked into his navy dress pants.

“Reagan,” he gasps, walking out and hugging me. I hug him back but no words come. It’s as if Ian’s words rendered me permanently speechless.

“Are you going to stay here? Do you want to stay here?” he asks, his hands coming to my cheeks.

I nod, unable to bring words up. I want to say something but I will cry if I do. Harry has seen me cry way too much.

“You’re not talking. I thought you would talk to me,” he sighs, my eyes watching him deflate. I lift his chin before his head falls and I kiss his cheek, holding his opposite cheek.

He takes me inside and shrugs my jacket and hoodie off, my sweater still on. The boots on my feet are kicked to the side and Harry holds his hand out for me, taking me into my office. We sit on the couch and his body holds mine.

“Can you talk to me? Please,” he pleads, my eyes meeting his. I part my lips but close them, nothing able to be said. My hand comes to his cheek, caressing his soft cheek. I wish I could but I can’t.

“I just want to be able to understand you. What happened that day? It’s been eating me alive because you weren’t responsive or anything. They took you away from me. You left me,” he says, my head shaking. I press my fingers to his lips and wrap my legs around his torso, sitting to face him better.