content warning: discussion of sexual assault
The feeling of the earth hugging my ankles as I let them sink into sand after a long run. Digging my heels against its grains as I once held back the tide inside me that burned for her. For the longest time, the embrace of sand and saltwater was the closest comparison to physical comfort I knew. The sand was my peace. The beach was the closest feeling to home.
I looked down at the sand I recognised more than my own hardwood floors. And there's a line. A fat line of crimson saturating the same grains that held so much comfort. I looked up at her.
My fucking Bee. Her perfect dress was unrecognisable. That asshole tore it apart. Her perfect hands trembled in her lap, blood staining her perfectly manicured nails. Her perfect, blonde waves were stuck to her skin, saturated in red.
"Fuck, Nick is coming. Are you... Bridget, where are you bleeding fro—"
Her perfect skin, always smooth when I pressed my cheek under her neck fo savour her heartbeat, now had a fault line carved along her collarbone.
Another presence on the beach silenced me. Bee was gone in a daze as she looked up at whoever was coming toward us. Five minutes too early for the person to be Nick.
Fuck.
"Jacob? Bridget... Oh my god! Bridget!" Dean crouched down next to me in front of her. He wasn't sure what to look at or ask first. "Are you guys okay? What... who was that? Bridget... is that his bl... that's your blood?! Jacob, is that her blood?"
My breathing halted as her perfect trauma surgeon of an ex-boyfriend witnessed her dress ripped off, soaked in blood. There was no way of knowing how much he had seen or heard.
He immediately began assessing her injuries. I breathed a sigh of relief that he didn't ask questions yet. Bee flinched and recoiled from him as he got close.
"Bee," I said softly, trying to get her attention as I took her hand in my palm, "let him help you."
She flinched away from me just the same, snatching her hand back. I could see the chaos brewing behind her eyes, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Dean dropped his hands, waiting for her to calm down. "It's okay, let me call for an ambulance, first. Then, I'll—"
"No!" She finally spoke, her voice breaking as she finally looked at me. "No, no, please, don't. That will involve police and my parents. I'm fine. Take me home. Can we please just go home?"
"There is a lot of blood. I don't think—" I tried to explain.
"Dean, tell him I'm fine. Please." She didn't sound like herself. She sounded distant and fading.
"Can I take a look first?" He asked with caution. "I can't tell where you're bleeding from unless I look."
She nodded, wiring her eyes shut as he examined the cut. It was deep. How she wasn't screaming in pain was beyond me. "Does it hurt as I touch near it?"
"No, I told both of you I'm fine. I just want to go home." Daze still floated in her voice. Dean glanced back at me, shaking his head.
"Can you give us a minute?" I asked him.
"We don't have a minute. There's too much blood, and it's too dark for me to see where it's coming from. She needs medical attention. I can't help her on a god damn beach." He whispered to me, so she couldn't hear. He was right.
But I also knew exactly what Bee wanted to avoid. Calling emergency services would draw the attention of everyone still inside the hotel. Competition, investors, and clients... all of which would see her in a vulnerable position. It open her up to questions from the police and even more daunting, her parents.
How could we explain yet another attack?
"I can hear you." She said, pushing his hands away. "And I'm not going to a hospital. I feel fine."
"That is probably because you're in shock, Bee. You need to get to a hospital." I tried to move her hair away from the cut, but she shrunk back. "Where else did he hurt you?"
"No where. I am fine," she got to knees in an attempt to stand before I stopped her.
"Bridget, he is right. You're in shock, and you need help. We don't have time to argue. I have a key to my friend's urgent care clinic. We can go there, but I won't have access to it anaesthetics or pain medication. Or we go to a hospital. Those are the options." Dean offered, firmly.
I watched him getting more uneasy with each passing moment. He knew what could go wrong the longer we waited.
"Fine, the clinic." She muttered. I wished she would agree to the emergency room, but this was better than nothing.
As I slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back, she reluctantly let me lift her from the sand, grimacing with each movement. Dean ran ahead of us to get his car, giving me a moment alone with her. She buried in her face in my chest, keeping her hands clenched in fists.
"Talk to me, please." I whispered against her hair while my feet trudged through the sand. My hand gripped tightly around the back of her ribcage, her heartbeat pounding against my fingertips.
"He's going to ask what happened, and I have no idea what to say." She said, muffled into my shirt.
"I can kill him. He can't ask you or tell anyone if he's dead." I shrugged.
"No, Aiden, don't. You can't—" she gasped. Her eyes shot up at me.
"I'm joking, I'm joking, angel."
"Not funny." She mumbled.
"You don't have to lie. Just tell him as little of the truth as you can. You and Abby were on the beach and someone attacked you with a knife. She got away and ran to get help. That's all you have to say." I told her, kissing her head. "But this wasn't what I meant. We can figure all that out. I'm not worried about you saying the wrong thing. Talk to me. Tell me what you're thinking."
"All I want is to go home. Can we please just go home?" She pleaded. Despondence replaced the usual glimmer in her eye. Its absence made me sick to my stomach.
"Bridget–"
"I don't– I don't want to do this anymore...I'm so tired." She muttered. My chest cracked in unison with the breaking strain in her voice, and my feet grew heavier. I didn't have it in me to ask what she meant.
"I know you are, baby, I know. Once you're stitched up, we're going home. Promise."
I began to wonder why Nick never showed. The beach was empty. Not a trace of him or the Allegiance agent. Almost as if he vanished.
Without time to stir on it, Dean pulled the car up the curb. I helped Bee into the backseat as much as allowed while she shrugged me off. She leaned her cheek on my shoulder. Breathing in her subtle perfume, the only thing left unchanged, I inhaled deeply as I bargained with the universe to let me go back and change this night entirely.
"Jacob," Dean said from the driver's seat, "what is her pulse?"
She jerked away as I placed my two fingers near hear neck, "Enough, both of you. I'm—"
"I swear to god if you say you're fine again..." I said in her ear as I counted her heartbeats.
"You'll what?" She whispered as low as she could with a fleeting hint of playfulness in her eye. Her chin tilted up to let me place my fingers over her pulse.
All the while her eyes stayed fixed on mine as her fingers lightly traced the back of my hairline. We were sat in the back of her ex boyfriend's car. Soaked in blood. Her heel pressed harder into the top of my thigh. My increasing heartbeat distracted from counting hers.
"A number, Jacob?" Dean pressed, keeping his eyes fixed on the road.
"It's... a little fast." I stammered, shifting my jaw as her nails teased down my back. Her shift in mood caught my attention. Something seemed off. Almost as if she was trying to distract herself.
"We're close. But, Bridget, are you sure I can't take you to a hospital?" He tried again, "Why should it matter who sees you? That man attacked you—"
"Because I don't want my parents involved. If I go there, they will find out either from the insurance records or someone who sees us. I don't care about numbing it."
He nodded in understanding and returned his focus to the road for the rest of the ride, speeding through traffic until we pulled into the car park. She tried to stand before I reminded her shoes were left somewhere on the beach.
Dean unlocked and lead us into the dark clinic to a room. I carefully laid Bee down on the exam table while he switched on the lights and gathered supplies. Her eyelids seemed heavy, and her complexion pale.
"Say something, Bee." I whispered, trying to keep her conscious.
"You're really pretty when you're nervous." She smiled, low enough for only me to hear. The fragility of her grin was almost tangible and I recognised the cracks. It wasn't genuine. She wanted to distract me, not herself.
"Bridget," Dean cleared his throat, putting on a pair of latex gloves, "what have you eaten today?"
"Tequila," she answered, chuckling ironically at herself.
"How much tequila?" She shrugged and a fresh layer of urgency tinted his face. "Lie down, right now."
"What's wrong?" I asked him as I helped her gently down on to the exam table.
"Alcohol impairs blood coagulation. That's likely why she's bleeding so much. It's fine. Just means I need to work faster." He explained, opening a pack of sterilisation wipes. "Are you on any medications?"
"Birth control." She muttered, slightly uncomfortable, but Dean remained unfazed. He was too focus on treating the injury. To our confusion, he handed her a hand towel. "What is this?"
"Something for you to bite down on. I told you I don't have access to local until the clinic opens in the morning. It will be painful." He reminded her. Imagining how painful this was going to be for her made me stomach churn.
"Stop, no, Bee, please. Let me take you to a hospital, baby, please." I pleaded in a last stitch attempt. She shook her head. As Dean got his supplies from across the room, she tugged my arm to get me closer.
"Can you do something for me?" She asked.
"Anything." I promised.
"Wait outside. Please. I don't want you to see me like this." She said, opened my mouth to object immediately. "And, before you say no, remember you just said anything."
"Bee, please don't—"
"Everything is going to be fine. This isn't an image of me I want you to have. Wait in the hallway." She pleaded softly as she ran her thumb in circles on the back of my hand.
As I brought her hand to my lips, a second gold band that wasn't there at the start of the evening hung on her finger. Her hand remained in a fist with her middle finger hugging inwards as though she was hiding the other side of the ring.
"I'll be right outside." I agreed as Dean lowered the neck line of her dress to start cleaning the wound. All my willpower sinking into my legs, I walked into the hallway.
Fists clenched and trembling at my sides, I stood with my back against the door. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness knocked the wind out of me. The door didn't block out her muffled cries of pain into the towel or the sound of Dr. Perfect comforting her as he cleaned the wound.
I hated that I wasn't in there. I hated that I didn't stop this from happening. And that now, I would have to explain to explain to her what Allegiance was. Another harsher sound from Bee pierced the wooden door and gutted my insides. He must have began stitching the wound. My eyes wired shut wishing I could will it all away.
The silence was almost worse. Had she passed out? Or was she containing her discomfort?
Hearing her suffer, even in the slightest, was a unique kind of desperation. It's the kind that reminds you that how pathetically mortal you are. No matter how much you train. No matter much you prepare, the confines of humanity are devastating. And its limits screamed against my eardrums as I listened to her suffer. Under the boot of mortality, my skeleton squirmed to escape. Viscous desperation gathered in my throat.
Forty minutes or four hours later, the door handle turned. Dean opened the door, looking exhausted.
"Wait," he stopped me as I tried to go inside, "she told me what happened."
"Yeah, and?" I said, impatiently. His eyes were narrowed, his arms crossed defensively. He was testing to see if my responses contradicted hers.
"Is Bridget avoiding going to the police to cover for you?" He questioned.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, growing irritated.
"Why else would she not seek help?" He asked in an accusatory tone.
"She didn't want her family meddling. You dated her for two years. I'm sure you witnessed this first hand." I said, trying not to get angry. A weary tint in in his eyes revealed his skepticism.
"I am completely aware that her family is—"
"Look, Dean, I am grateful for your help tonight. However, I won't let you insinuate for even a second that I would stop her from going to police or seeking medical attention for my benefit. She wanted privacy, and I honoured her wishes. You did, too. You could have driven us to a hospital despite what she wanted, but you didn't." I reminded him. It was enough for him to step aside to let me in the room.
Bridget looked wrecked. Blood dried at the ends of her hair. Her dress torn down, exposing more than I knew she was comfortable with. The whites of eyes were tinted pink. And a line of stitches from one end of her chest to the other. A soul clenching contradiction from how this night began.
"There's about thirty stitches. I'll take them out in give or take ten days. Start your antibiotics in the morning to prevent infection. The script is already sent. And try to avoid getting it wet in the shower." He instructed without another interrogation. I nodded in understanding. Bee was barely awake enough to indicate she had even listened.
I draped my blazer over her shoulders to keep her comfortable until we got to my house. Some of her things were already here since she had planned on staying the weekend anyway. She hadn't spoken a word the entire drive home, drifting in and out of sleep. I thanked Dean again for his help before he left. He promised what happened would stay between us. Bee trusted him much more than I did.
She refused let me help her upstairs. Only when she couldn't reach her zipper did she allow me to assist her. I pulled down her clothes, quickly kicking them across the room so she wouldn't see the amount of blood on her dress. The inviting steam coming from the shower left our skin dewey and humid. Just as I began to unbutton my shirt, her words earlier rang in my ears.
"I don't want to do this anymore."
"I'll be right outside the door if you need anything." I said, turning to leave.
"Wait," she reached for my forearm. Somehow she looked even more down. "You don't want to shower with me?"
"No, I do, but earlier you said... I just assumed you wouldn't want me... Do you want me to c—" I stammered.
"Aiden," she ended my misery, pulling me closer from her, "of course I want you. And I don't want to be alone, so shower with me?"
I answered by removing my clothes. My tuxedo was wrecked with a mix of sand and blood. She set her jewelry on the counter.
Closing her eyes as she stepped under the water, her head tilted to wet her hair. Water droplets beaded down her arms and back, dissolving any crimson in their path.
"Why did you think I wouldn't want you?" She asked as I turned on the other shower heads. "Earlier, I meant I didn't want to lie to each other anymore. I should have told you about the envelope. That guy didn't care whether or not I told anyone. He wanted to more information about you. He was going to hurt me regardless. He knows you're lying about your identity. I'm sorry I couldn't— I tried to tell him he was wrong, but he didn't believe me. He said... he would cut me every time I didn't answer him."
Vein by vein, they will slice her open...
Pain distorted her face when she lifted her arms, so I massaged body wash along her neck and arms. My fingers weaved through her hair with shampoo and conditioner. Her back was to my chest as I pulled her against me.
"There is nothing for you to apologise for. You did so good, baby." I promised. My lips pressed to her shoulder in a gentle kiss.
"No, I didn't. I did exactly what you told me not to do, and I let him catch me alone. I was weak and drunk. I should have—" she cut herself when her voice broke, putting her palms to her eyes despite the discomfort it caused. I spun her around to face me. Her cheeks reddened as she fought the gloss sheen in her eyes.
"Bridget, no, where is this coming from?" I wrapped my arms around her back. The warm emotion in her face filled my chest. "Bee, baby, how could you think you failed? You saved Abigail, you are the one that broke him into telling us who he was. All the important stuff was you."
Careful to avoid wetting her stitches, I washed away the soap in her hair without another word for her. She didn't speak or cry. Biting the inside of her cheek until her eyes cleared, she stepped out of the shower.
As I stepped out, the light reflected off her jewellery on the counter. The gold band I noticed earlier caught my gaze. Except now, seeing the ring's entire shape, its familiarity flared in my head.
The lightly dusted shine on the gold. A letter in the same font as my father's ring.
I couldn't bring myself ask what it was or how she had it until the morning. She wasn't herself. More happened tonight than she was leading on. Her physical injury was minor, but the change in her was drastic. She was different. We felt different.
She laid on top of the duvet in a pair of my shorts with no top to avoid irritating the cut across her collarbone. I pulled up a pair of briefs before joining her in bed.
"Hey, hi," I snapped her out of her daze as I crawled over her legs to rest my head on her stomach. My hands laid one atop the other over her ribcage. Physically, we couldn't be closer. Though, somehow I had never felt further from her then I did this minute. For what seemed like the hundredth time tonight, I tried once again to reach her. "What's in your head, pretty? Talk to me."
"I have so many questions." She said almost inaudibly.
"You can ask me anything." I promised, kissing just above her belly button and her fingers rested over mine.
"Why didn't I fight? You taught me how to escape. I didn't do what we trained to do. I could have fought him and I didn't even try..." she said blankly. Her eyes fixated on the ceiling as she asked the last thing I expected to hear.
"Bee, it's not that easy in the moment. I can tell you all the ways tonight could have gone better, but it wouldn't matter. It's different when you are face to face with a threat. What are you—"
"The thought didn't occur to me until after. I was weak, and I wanted to punish myself for it."
"Baby, no, you were scared. You—"
"Do you know why I moved from that spot even after I promised you I wouldn't?" She interrupted.
"I only knew something went wrong because of the alert on my phone from your ring. Then, I saw Abby and she told me where to find you."
"Kora left to find Abby and Nate because I saw the guy near the entrance. Don't be angry with her. I made her go find them. Someone grabbed me and I thought you finished the plan early, but it was Jack. And he..." Her voice cracked, making her pause. She wouldn't look anywhere but the ceiling. She didn't need to finish for me to catch on.
I brought her hands to my lips as she caught her breath. It was the first time I noticed the swelling along the knuckles on her right hand. Suddenly, the image of Jack's bloody nose as I ran passed him to find Bee made sense. She gripped my hand tighter as she spoke again. "There were people everywhere, but I didn't... I stayed silent because of my family. I was so sure they wouldn't believe me even as it was happening. I knew the relationship between the Stockton's and my family would take precedence over me. And I allowed it."
"You didn't, Bee. You froze," Her name dripped passed my lips. She continued before I could say anything further.
"A few years ago, someone who had an issue with my father stalked me. He took photos of me in my bedroom and even followed me back to Yale after break. My dad didn't let me report it. He insisted on handling it privately because making a scene would not look good for the family. That's what my dad tells Peter and I whenever something happens."
She squeezed her eyes shut as the fresh memory play over again. "I tried to walk away and he yanked me back. I elbowed him, but not hard enough to stop him. I could have asked anyone around me for help, but making a scene would not look good for the family."
"But you did fight back. You hit him. Your hand is red. I saw him." I reminded her.
"Only after he forced his hand under my dress. Before that, I did exactly what my parents taught me to do. I was weak, I was silent. For a minute, I froze and if I had stayed frozen even ten seconds longer...he would have..." A couple tears leaked, blending with the wetness in her hair. My chest ached as her chin quivered.
"Bee, no—"
"And I was so humiliated and disgusted with myself afterwards that I didn't care what that man did to me. As long as Abigail was okay, I didn't care. I didn't fight the way I was supposed to because I deserved it, Aiden."
If despair produced sound, it was the hollowness in her voice and the strain as she muscled through the tears she refused to let fall.
"No, Bee, come here," I sat up next to her against the headboard, pulling her onto me. Our bare chests pressed against each other. Her legs wrapped around me and her arms folded over her stomach as if she was holding herself in one piece. "This isn't your fault. You do not fucking deserve this. Do you hear me?"
"I don't want do this anymore." She sniffed. Those six words stopped my heart for a second time tonight.
"My instincts to preserve my family's professional relationship were stronger than my instincts to save myself. I knew they wouldn't believe me, let alone protect me, and I still protected them. What kind of person... what's wrong with me?"
"Nothing is wrong with you, baby." I hushed her. I kissed the side of her head, keeping my lips there for closeness. "I'm so sorry this happened to you, my Bee. You don't deserve this. You tried to fight him off, you said that yourself. You do not fucking deserve this. It isn't your fault regardless of what you think you could have done differently."
Even with our bodies entangled, I needed to get closer, to reach the anguish ravishing through her. There was not anything I could say to take her pain away as the realisation tore her apart.
My arms locked around her back, holding her tight against me. Every broken breath shook her small frame and chipped at my sanity. Warm tears contrasted the coldness of her hair on my neck.
"Aiden, I need to tell you something." She wriggled out of my arms. She stood up from the bed and came back with a locked safe and the ring left on the counters.
"What is this?" I asked as she handed me an H shaped ring. It wasn't the letter that caught my eye though. It was an engraving on the inside.
H. S.
1-2-94
"There was a man at the event, who called your sister Grace. When I saw him watching us, I followed him and he dropped this ring." She said as if I would know what any of it meant.
The shake in her voice revealed just how much this had been weighing on her. Ripe anxiety and dried tears claimed her cheeks. She search my face for any sign of recall. When I looked back in confusion, she unlocked the safe to reveal a blank manilla envelope. She handed me pictures and records of what looked like my father. Military records, security documents, pictures of him I had never seen. Many of them had Kai in the background.
"Your dad was in the British military?" She said.
"Yeah, I think so, until shortly after I was born. I don't remember him talking about it much." I explained, skimming through the documents.
"I need to ask you a question, and I need you to be honest with me." She began. "Are you still lying to me about your name?"
"Bee, what are you talking about?" I looked up from the documents. She pulled out a few more papers and gave them to me.
"This is my birth certificate. I don't understand." I squinted.
"You didn't know." She exhaled with relief. "When you mentioned the birth certificate, I thought all this time... but you really had no idea."
"Care to elaborate, angel?" I asked, watching her examine my face.
"Your name, it isn't Aiden. Your last name isn't even Shepard." She spoke delicately. My nerves growing as she handed me a separate sheet that looked similar. My throat ran dry. I nearly dropped the paper. "The initials on the ring match the birth certificate. H.S... Harry Styles, your birth name."
"What is this? Kai said Abby and I have altered birth certificates, but... I didn't know it would be this." I muttered, blinking to make sure I read it correctly.
"Abigail's is changed too. Her name given at birth was Grace Elizabeth Styles." She said.
Bridget scanned my every eye movement. I quickly realised she was worried I had been lying. "Bee, I didn't know. I promise. You thought I was keeping this from you?"
"I didn't know what to think." She breathed, wrapping herself in the sheet to cover her chest.
"You know I wouldn't lie to you." I almost pleaded for her to believe me.
"How? It wouldn't be the first time you lied to me about who you are. So tell me how I could think you would never lie to me. Maybe not about this, but you are still lying to me."
There was no anger or disdain. She spoke as a matter of fact. Part of me yearned for her anger rather than the casual acceptance of dishonesty between us.
"Bee, ask me whatever you want, and I will give you the truth."
"What is Allegiance? After I cut him and he said he was with them, did you know what he meant?" She asked.
"Allegiance is an organisation of high skilled assassins. I only learned of them that day Kai came over. He was part it and was assigned to train me to join. Instead, he left the agency and helped prepare me to target your family." I explained slowly.
"Why would they want anything to do with me?" She started growing nervous.
"To them, you are a prime source of information. You are not only a high ranking board member in Alec's company, but also his daughter. You are close to Abigail and Nate, and the agency is about two steps from finding out I'm alive. From what you've told me, that guy tonight already knows. You know about Kai. All of this has made you a perfect captive."
"So, an agency of assassins wants to kill me?" She stuttered. The answer was worse than her fear. My silence didn't help. "Just tell me, please. I don't care how bad it is. I need to know. Otherwise, I will go insane wondering."
"They want to use you for every bit of information your worth. They don't care whether or not it kills you. It's why Kai tried to kill you. The only reason he is still alive is because he is the one person who can help me prevent that from happening." I explained reluctantly. As I witnessed the panic seep in, her straight face fell. I set the pictures and documents on the nightstand to pull her back onto my lap. She winced a bit from the soreness.
"Kai doesn't... Everything he does is strategic. Nothing is done on emotion. That means death was an easier option than even the possibility of Allegiance getting to me. It's better for you, Abigail, and Nate if he had killed me." She sucked in sharp breath as fresh gloss formed over her eyes.
"Hey, no, oh my fucking god, no. That is not an option. It is not better for anyone. Bee, no one is killing you. No one is going to hurt you. I won't allow it." I promised.
She nodded, trying to blink away the tears. I held her as she buried her head in the crook of my neck. My fingers ran up and down her back in hopes of calming her. But I knew better. It wasn't just Allegiance or Kai. It was Jack. It was the thirty stitches intruding on her perfect skin. It was a birth certificate with a name neither of us could explain, but somehow it was mine.
Harry Styles.
Under a certain amount of pressure or weight, everything breaks. And the weight of this night was crushing. It's aftermath was evident in her colourless cheeks, the cut spanning almost shoulder to shoulder, and the wet despair on her eyelashes.
We lied down flat with her back to my chest and my arm draped over her torso. My fingers traced the valleys between her ribs as I listened to her heartbeat settle. After a few minutes, she rolled over to face me. In the fog of the aftermath, everything seemed so delicate. I ran my thumb along her cheekbone to wipe away the remaining tears. She took my hands, holding them in place as she kissed my bottom lip.
"Let's get out of here for the week." I said again, kissing her temple, "Nick has a house in Nantucket. No one uses it in the winter. I can arrange for a plane in the morning."
"Aiden, you can't—"
"Honeybee," I cut her off with my lips pressing to hers, making her giggle into the kiss. Hearing even the slightest laugh from her right now made my chest lighter, "We can. Everything will be here when we get back."
"There is so much we need to figure out. Those documents, the pictures..." she trailed off.
"Will all be here. Just for a week, no work, no Kai, no mission, no family, no training."
"But I like training." She admitted. A shy smile emerged from the debris.
"I knew it." I teased, widening the sheepish grin on her face. "I'll add it to the list."
"The list?" She inquired, dragging her index finger along the outline of the butterfly on my abdomen.
"Your list. Pain kink, edging, sensory play... I think training falls under a fear kink." I persisted. She giggled as she buried her face in my chest.
"Aiden," she whined through her laughter. I tilted her chin up towards me, leaving sloppy kisses around her face. She caught her breath before swinging a leg over my torso to straddle my hips. I gazed up her body as she intertwined our fingers. There was something so pure about this post-battle fog. Her bare chest, her face recovering from crying then laughing. Even in the wake of such anguish, her beauty trapped my voice in my throat.
A smirk curved the corners of her mouth as she asked, "So, what time does the plane leave?"
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hi everyone! if you haven't seen it, i will be publishing another book!
it will be a doctor harry fic, and i am so excited about it. characters and a preview will be posted within the week!
i am stuck deciding between covers so comment the one you like more
- ari
^the spidery thing is a nerve cell