Chapter 50
I was convinced I'd never truly been warm in my life until I woke up in Harry's arms. Until my eyes fluttered open, breath catching briefly in my throat, and realized I was pressed up against his chest with my head nuzzled right below his chin. Like always, my arms were tightly restrained against my own chest, but unlike how it had been the other times, I was actually facing him this morning. In fact, I had reason to believe neither of us had even turned away from one another in the middle of the night.
He was hugging me; it took a moment to realize. Hugging me against himself, our legs intertwined, with an arm looped just below my ribcage, his other lazily slung over my waist. One of his hands was flat against the small of my back and I could feel the calloused fingers of his other hand tucked right below the blade of my shoulder.
And in that moment, I wasn't sure whether to feel content or terrified.
Harry had been so different yesterday, so unlike himself. I knew the majority of it was to do with the alcohol but a lot of what he'd said had seemed genuine. Like they were things he'd wanted to admit for a while but hadn't been able to find the right way to do so. I was terrified because I wasn't sure how he was going to feel this morning knowing how he'd reacted yesterday. If he'd even remember at all.
Part of me wished to dislodge my hands from where they were wedged between us, eager to take this opportunity to carefully inspect the areas in which he'd been hurt yesterday. The areas that he'd been so apprehensive to let me take a look at, something that worried me to no end given I had a feeling he was probably less than willing to get them looked after himself whenever he was alone. I was grateful he'd come here yesterday.
Grateful for a multitude of reasons, actually. Grateful because I knew I'd wanted to see him. I'd tried to convince myself over and over that the reason I'd been so adamant on wanting him to call me back those few days where we hadn't spoken was simply because I wanted to thank him for the birthday gift and apologize for my outburst at the studio, but after seeing him for the first time in the doorway yesterday, I knew I'd been lying to myself. I'd wanted to see him simply because. I'd wanted to know he was okay.
To say I'd gotten that closure would have been a lie. He hadn't been okay when he'd shown up yesterday. Even if he himself believed otherwise. I was sure this was probably normal for him, to come back from these events – any meetings with Damien, really – bloodied and bruised but I hated it. I hated that, to him, this was barely anything to bat an eye over.
I was lost in my thoughts, eyes downcast toward Harry's chest – the only thing visible to me given that if I tried to lift my head, it would be met with his chin – when he began to stir. His arms closed tighter around me, his hand smoothing up my back until it was rested just below my neck, his fingers brushing my hair. Just like last time, I went rigid. Not wanting to wake him, not wanting to do something that would make him regret every last moment he'd spent with me.
With a deep, tired sigh, Harry lifted his head from its resting place on the top of my head toward the crook of my neck instead, where he buried his face. I wasn't sure I was moving, hadn't even dared to breathe, when he suddenly murmured against my skin, "I know you're awake." His voice was low, raspy. It took me by surprise. I hadn't realized he'd been awake. I swallowed hard, willing my heart rate to settle, as he continued, "Tell me why we just woke up and I already get the feeling that you're fuckin' overthinking something."
It was brief, but I allowed myself a single moment to just exist. To let him hold me, to feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine, to revel in the way the skin of my shoulder felt under the heat of his words. His hair was pressed against my cheek and it took everything in me not to lean forward, to drag my hand out from between our chests to knit my fingers through it.
Instead, I pulled away. Enough that I had a clear view of his face. Harry was weird with boundaries and only because I wasn't exactly sure what they were until I happened to stumble upon them and send him fleeing. But he was getting there. He was communicating with me, being open and vulnerable. I would let him take the lead on whatever he wanted to do.
His lids were half-hooded over his eyes, with lashes that stopped just above his flushed cheeks with every slow blink he took while he looked at me. I was still acutely aware of the fact that Harry's arms were still around me and I drew in a shaky breath when he started to trail his knuckle softly up and down my spine, his other hand still flattened over my waist.
Is he still drunk?
"Hi," I said, chewing nervously on my lower lip. "Morning."
Harry's eyes flitted once to my mouth and then back up again. He angled his head to the side, letting it fall against the pillow, before huffing a small chuckle. "Morning."
My gaze danced the length of his face, hoping my expression didn't shift when I glanced at his sunken black eye. Carefully, I asked, "How are you feeling...?"
"It looks worse than it is, Riv."
Something flashed across his face and his hold around me loosened. I knew he was about to pull away – both physically and metaphorically – so I hastily asked, if only to keep him distracted, "Your head. How's your head feeling this morning?"
I knew maybe I started off a little too strong. Should have kept it light for just a bit longer but I felt like a bit of a cheat beating around the bush.
Harry was silent for a moment, eyes still on me like he was trying to read some unspoken thing I hadn't voiced. "It's fine," he paused, sucking in a short breath. "I was drunk, but I didn't blackout." My gaze must have lowered because suddenly Harry's fingers were under my chin, pulling me up to look at him. "I remember what I said, if that's what you're talking about. And I'm not about to take any of it back. I'm not that much of a fucking dick."
"I don't think you're a dick," I said quickly, shaking my head.
Harry's fingers closed around my jaw where he gave a little squeeze, an amused grin now on his face. "Sure, you don't."
"I'm serious," I countered. "I mean you can be dickish, but you aren't a dick."
"Dickish," Harry laughed, falling onto his back and letting my hands fall free. His one arm was still tucked beneath me, his fingers now lazily drawing circles over my shoulder. "I like that word. Pretty dickish of me to crash your birthday party yesterday though, hm?"
"It wasn't a birthday party," I was still on my side looking at him and tucked my hand to rest under my head. "And if it were, my friends wouldn't have left. They'd have just invited you in."
"If I'm to remember correctly," Harry mused, his head tilting in my direction. "You and your friends had an entire group chat where you talked about how much of an asshole I was to you after getting your tattoo." He frowned, glancing at my waist. "Which, by the way," his hand drifted down to slip under the hem of my shirt, which he promptly lifted up to my ribcage, "how is that?"
His fingers danced across the ink, eliciting a steady trail of goosebumps in their wake. "It's fine," I said, shaking my head. "Harry, it's been almost three months. It's healed, don't worry. And to be fair, you were an asshole that day."
"Mm, you think so, yeah?" The corner of his mouth quirked up into a smirk. Seconds later, that expression of amusement vanished, to be replaced by something serious. "Thank you though," his voice was low when he spoke, eyes directly on mine. "For letting me come in yesterday."
His words had my heart stumbling a beat. I knew this vulnerability was hard for him, especially sober, which was why, instead of dwelling on the severity of the topic, I rolled my eyes and said instead, "You have a key, you know. You could have easily just let yourself in rather than just about breaking my door down."
Harry rolled onto his back again, laughing toward the ceiling. "To be fair, I was rightly pissed yesterday. No way I'd fucking remember I have a key to your place when I'm in a state like that," he threw me a glance. "Let's just say I was trying to be polite."
"Polite?" I was grinning now. "That word's in your vocabulary?"
"I can be polite," Harry feigned offence. "You've seen me be polite."
It was true. I had. "You were actually quite polite yesterday." Harry's fingers were more ardently massaging the skin of my shoulder now. They stilled briefly at my words. "You even offered to leave if you were the reason why my friends were heading out."
"You didn't think I would?"
I gave a short laugh. "You haven't exactly listened to me any other times that I've tried to kick you out of my place."
"I know," Harry's response came quickly. I hadn't realized I'd been staring at the ceiling until Harry squeezed my shoulder gently, urging me to look at him. "I've been... a lot," he said quietly when my eyes met his. "I know that. And I know that this situation, what we're caught up in with Damien, hasn't been easy. I'm gonna try to be better with that, Riv, I promise. I'm used to just constantly telling other people what to do and I have to realize that..." the words got lost briefly in his throat, "I have to realize that you don't work for me. This is your life. Me controlling you is only going to drive you further away in every aspect. I've got to let you make your own choices and be your own person, even with everything going on. I'll figure out how to adjust accordingly."
"I don't want to be the villain in your story, Riv."
I didn't think I'd ever heard Harry this expressive when he was sober. It unnerved me in the sense that he was trying, I knew he was, but it was because he saw how bad this situation was and obviously knew how bad it was only going to continue to get. This was my life now, whether I wanted it to be or not. It meant that I had to start trying too. I couldn't keep looking at him like the person he'd been a few months ago when we'd been at each other's throats every waking instant. And for every compromise he was willing to throw out there, I had to be willing to make some as well.
"Thank you," I said quietly. "Really, thank you."
Harry was silent for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak and then seemed to realize something at the last second, asking instead a little panicked, "Wait, what time is it? Do you not have to work today?"
"Oh, I rescheduled all of my clients today," I told him.
Yesterday after I'd finished cleaning him up, I'd texted both my friends and the few people I had scheduled to see today at the studio. The former of which I informed that I wouldn't be able to make it to Liv's place after all and the latter that something had come up that would prevent me from making it to the studio today. That something happened to be a certain curly-haired, green-eyed man that I had been so sure was going to be a little more hungover today and figured would need some sort of assistance. Apparently, I'd been wrong.
"And it's..." I reached over to grab my phone from the nightstand. "9:12."
"Christ," Harry dragged a hand over his face. "It's–"
"Not that late," I cut in flatly with a roll of my eyes. "If that was what you were going to say Mr. 'I get up at the ass crack of fucking dawn to workout'."
"Smartass," Harry chided, giving my shoulder another squeeze. "I was going to fucking say that it's a miracle I slept that long. What'd we get to bed around 11 last night? That's over ten full fucking hours of sleep. Also, why'd you reschedule your shit today?"
"I figured you were going to be..." I trailed off with a small wince.
"Hungover?"
"Maybe just that you'd need a bit of extra help getting back to your place today."
Harry laughed – a light, casual gesture that sent my heart lurching. "Right. Forgot I didn't drive here." He paused, looking a little put out for a moment. "You – I'm sorry you had to cancel on work today."
"It's not a big deal," I said and shrugged out of his hold, slipping from the bed. Harry's hand fell flat against the mattress and he fisted some of the sheets between his fingers before drawing his arm back to rest on his stomach.
"It is," Harry sat up, rubbing the back of his neck and suddenly got to his feet, stretching his arms over his head with a groan. "It's a big deal to me. I was serious yesterday, Riv, when I said I wasn't trying to ruin your life."
"You aren't ruining my life," I shrugged with a small chuckle, trying and failing to keep my eyes directly on his face. Christ, this man had a lot of tattoos that I found myself always wanting to look at. "I wanted to take the day off anyway."
"That's a lie," Harry fired back and followed me as I made my way into the bathroom. He leaned against the doorframe while I began to brush my teeth. "You love your job."
"Even if I love my job," I mumbled, my mouth full of toothpaste. "I could always use a day off."
"Mm," he hummed. I leaned down to spit into the sink, drawing myself back up a moment later and turned to face him. He chewed on his inner cheek in amusement, taking a step forward before I could say anything and reached up to wipe at a bit of toothpaste that remained by the corner of my mouth. "Seriously," he reiterated, running his thumb under the tap. "Let me make it up to you."
I glanced back at the shower, not sure if I fully wanted to have sex with him right now when he was hungover and probably in a shit ton of pain from the injuries he'd acquired yesterday. Nor was I sure if that was what he was even implying, but it normally was whenever he brought up wanting to 'reward' or 'make something up' to me. "Harry, you don't need to–"
"Wanna come watch me tattoo?"
My hand faltered in midair where I'd been in the middle of putting my toothbrush away. "Like... at Devil's Due?" Harry nodded. "I thought you didn't tattoo anymore?"
"I don't really," Harry shrugged a shoulder, reaching over my shoulder to throw open the medicine cabinet. "You got a spare toothbrush?"
"Um, yeah," I grabbed his wrist, gently moving him to the side and grabbed one of the extras I had on the bottom shelf. He ripped open the packaging in half a second, placing a hand on my waist to shuffle me over a fraction until he was stood in front of the sink.
"I normally do some shit at the shop the day after the fights," Harry admitted quietly, squeezing a bit of toothpaste onto the brush. "Helps calm me down. Makes me feel a bit better, I guess. Morgan sometimes schedules appointments for me, or I just take walk-ins."
"I get that," I said carefully, watching him run his toothbrush under the stream of water. "Painting helps me calm down too."
His eyes met mine in the mirror and he nodded. For a few minutes, while he brushed his teeth, he said nothing. And then, once he'd finished and plopped his brush in the small cup right beside mine, he turned and muttered, "You don't have to. I just figured 'cause you liked art and shit or whatever, you'd wanna–"
"I'll come." I smiled softly. I'd taken his place in the doorway. "Only if you really want me to. I don't wanna stress you out today."
He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the counter. He was still dressed only in his boxers, the tattoo on his thigh peeking out from the bottom of the material when my eyes flitted down briefly. "I want you to come," Harry said, looking slightly amused when I shifted to readjust my gaze in an attempt to level it with his. "If you want to."
"I do."
He nodded, angling his head to the side. "Okay."
I found myself smiling. "Okay."
"We gotta go soon though 'cause we have to stop at my place so I can get clothes and I think I told Morgs I'd be at the shop around 11:30," he pushed off the counter, reaching forward to tug at the hem of my shirt. "So shower quick. I'll shower at mine and feed Polpettone."
He was gone seconds later, leaving me standing there both confused and a little unsure as to whether or not I'd just willingly agreed to spend my entire day with Harry for no other reason than just to keep him company. Unsure as to the full reasoning behind why he'd invited me and confused because I found myself feeling a little excited at the prospect.
--
"You really gotta get a new fucking car, Riv."
"I thought you were done bossing me around."
"This is not me bossing you around," Harry swung open my passenger side door, gesturing for me to get inside. "This is me telling you, as your friend, that your car is a piece of fucking shit and suggesting that you get a new one."
"Yeah, we'll see – hey, wait!" Harry slammed the door shut on me before I could finish, sliding into the driver's side moments later. He glanced in my direction, looking me once over, pausing on my arms currently crossed over my chest. Through gritted teeth, I muttered, "When did we decide you're driving my piece of shit car to your house?"
"When you walked right out of your apartment a few minutes ago and left your car keys on the counter for me to grab," Harry grinned knowingly, digging a hand into his pocket to retrieve them, dangling them like a crowned jewel between the two of us. "Also when you willingly sat right down in the passenger seat."
"You drive her like a drag racer," I muttered, annoyed, but reached for my seatbelt. The last thing I was ever going to admit was that I actually preferred when he drove because it gave me more of an opportunity to fiddle with the AC and play the music that I wanted. "That's why you think she's a piece of shit," I went on. "Because you expect her to be able to go 0 to 60 in a matter of seconds."
"Not true," Harry countered. "But I can definitely try if you want me to." Then he suddenly revved the engine hard while we were still parked, glancing over to gauge my reaction with a laugh. The sound bounced around the small parking lot.
"Asshole!" I cried, reaching to grab the car keys but he swatted me away, still laughing. "Now you're trying to fucking break her." Rolling my eyes, I waited until he withdrew his foot from the gas and shifted the car into reverse to mutter, "I hate you."
Harry's eyes met mine. "No, you don't."
"Mm," I glanced away, worried that if I kept my eyes on him for too long that my already steadily increasing heartbeat would trip and stumble right out of my fucking chest. "Careful what you do with Moira or I will."
"I'll buy you a new fucking car if it's the price you're worried about," Harry said casually as we pulled onto the street. He glanced over at me, running his ring-clad fingers over the length of the steering wheel. "You gonna play your music?"
"You're not buying me a car," I shot back, pulling my phone from my back pocket. "That's where I draw the line. And yes, yes. Calm down. Funny how you used to yell at me for playing my stuff, hm?" Before he could respond, I added, "Also, I'm still waiting on the titles of a few of those audiobooks that you like to listen to. Don't think I've forgotten that."
"Oh, fuck off," Harry laughed. Poor Moira looked tiny when his monstrous self was wedged before the wheel. Even with the seat all the way down, his head was nearly brushing the roof and his knees were close to his chest.
"My guess is you read disgustingly graphic romance novels," I mused, plugging my phone into the aux cord. My lovely car wasn't as advanced as any of Harry's where I'd been so easily able to connect to his Bluetooth. "And until you tell me otherwise, that's how my vote will stay."
"Again," he glanced over at me, "not having you force us to create a book club."
"Oh, like you'd hate it that much," I rolled my eyes. "It'd probably be the best thing to happen to you, to be in a book club with me. I read some bomb-ass shit."
"Considering 'bomb-ass shit' is your choice of words to describe the type of stuff you read, I highly doubt that."
"I made you a Spotify account, by the way," I said, shielding my eyes from the sun pouring in through the windshield in an attempt to see my phone. "Even though on the plane a few days ago you went on about hating the app, I made you an account so that you can add songs to the playlist I made without having to be with me."
Harry reached over, pulling my sun visor down. Immediately, my screen came into focus and I sheepishly lowered my hand from my face, glancing in his direction, to which he just rolled his eyes and said, "How do I add songs?" I blinked at him, momentarily stunned. He furrowed his brows. "What?"
"Nothing," I quickly shook my head, trying to hide my grin. "I just expected you to yell at me for making you an account and not ask how to add songs. Threw me off a bit."
"And you're gonna make me regret it–"
"No!" I laughed. "I'm joking. I can show you, it's really easy. You just have to download the app. Do you have your phone on you?"
For a brief second, Harry looked a little apprehensive, until he finally blew out a short breath and shifted in his seat to grab his phone from his pocket. He was wearing the pair of sweatpants that he'd given me on the plane, the ones that he hadn't yet been back to pick up. No part of me was bold enough to admit that I'd slept in them almost every night since – not because they were his but because they were oversized and comfy as fuck. I was a little upset to be parting with them.
I was near trembling, not able to believe what was fucking happening when I reached to grab the phone from Harry's outstretched hand. Not surprisingly, the screen was shattered. And it looked like he'd had it for at least a few good years.
"Okay, you tell me to get a new car but you're walking around with a broken ass phone from the 19th century."
"I have multiple phones," was Harry's monotone response.
"Mm, but you can't replace this one?"
He scrunched up his nose. "Too much work."
"Well, it's too much work to buy a new car," I responded with a grin.
Harry turned his head, letting out a sharp sigh and nodded his chin toward the item in my hands. "Why've you got that fucking thing again?"
"Oh, right," I glanced down to his device between my fingers, swiping my thumb over the screen to unlock it. "What's your password?" Harry didn't respond and when I looked over, his expression was one I couldn't place. "C'mon, I'm not gonna hack you. I thought you trusted me–"
"1, 2, 3, 4," he blurted with a wince.
My mouth fell open, a laugh bubbling from the back of my throat. "Shut up," I grinned. "Mr. high security, Mr. owns a fucking drug cartel, Mr. did an entire government background check on me when we met has the most basic, guessable password ever?"
"Give me my phone."
"No!"
"Riv," he clenched his jaw, "Give me my phone back."
"Why? Worried I'll leak your highly secure password to all your contacts?"
He glanced over, shaking his head curtly. "If you're gonna fucking make fun of me, just–"
"I'm not," I swallowed the next laugh threatening to escape me, feigning a teasing frown at his expression. "I'm sorry, I'm just–" Chewing on my lower lip, I unlocked his phone. "Just joking. My password is Meatloaf, so I'm no better."
Harry still looked unimpressed. "I'm regretting giving you access to my phone."
"Giving me access," I mocked with a small giggle. "Yeah, like there was much to crack in the first place – Jesus fuck, Harry." I pulled up his app store. "Why the hell's your font so big, Grandpa?"
I knew it was coming the moment Harry opened his mouth next. "Grandpa?" He rubbed his jaw, amused. "Definitely fuckin' think I prefer Daddy–"
"I will literally smash your phone even more," I held the device beside my face. "Go ahead and test me right now, Curly."
He threw his head back with a laugh. "You're the one who said it–"
"Yeah, and if you aren't careful, I'll never say it again."
We pulled up to a light and Harry turned to look at me, running his tongue over his lower lip. He cocked his head slightly to the side, drumming a finger on the steering wheel. "Yeah? Guess I'll have to keep my fucking mouth shut then."
"Mm," I fell back in my seat, squirming a bit, wishing I was anywhere but under the scrutiny of this man's gaze. How he managed to make me feel so many things just by looking at me, I wasn't sure. "Eyes on the road."
"But you're so nice to look at, Riv," Harry teased, accelerating when the light flicked to green. "Especially when you can't seem to sit still. What's got you worked up, hm? Thinking about what we did in the shower?"
"Your Spotify password is River," I said in an attempt to reroute the conversation, having somehow managed to download the app even though it felt like the car was slowly losing all of its oxygen. On a normal day, I'd be all about engaging in this little game with Harry but today I wanted him to rest. To recoup after yesterday. And I knew he'd be pissed if I voiced that aloud, which was why it was a one-sided attempt in trying to distinguish what he was trying to start.
"River," Harry repeated, still a little amused. His hand left the steering wheel, where it came to rest on my knee. "Noted." And then his thumb was working it's stupid, fucking magic, massaging and kneading into my skin in the best way. Distracting me.
We drove a bit longer, me playing the intro to a number of different songs that I thought he might like and him giving me his verdict a few beats in, until we were rounding the familiar corner toward his neighbourhood. The most surprising thing I found out during the drive was that Harry hadn't ever listened to Arctic Monkeys, a personal favourite of mine. And that he had a really sneaky fucking way of inching his hand further and further up my thigh while I was distracted scrolling through his phone. I swear, by the time we reached his street, his fingers were close enough to brush the hem of my shirt if he so chose.
"We're gonna have to park at the end of the driveway and walk," Harry said, slowing the car down a fraction. "The garage is full and there's no sense in parking in front of the house when we won't even be there for that long."
"Right," I leaned back against the headrest, a lazy grin on my face. "And if I said no? That I didn't wanna walk up your monstrously long driveway?"
Harry glanced over with a roll of his eyes. "I'd throw you over my fucking shoulder and carry you, I guess."
Not something I would entirely object to, but I kept that knowledge to myself. "Probably for the best anyway," I unbuckled my seat belt as Harry pulled the car beside his front gate. "Moira gets a little intimidated by all of your fancy cars."
"Yeah, well, if you had a Moira 2.0," Harry gave my knee a single squeeze before dragging it back over to undo his own seatbelt, "she wouldn't be as intimidated."
"It wouldn't be a Moira 2.0," I scoffed, throwing my door open. It was a beautiful day out, the sunshine warming my skin the moment I stepped out onto the pavement. "Obviously, if I ever got a new car, I'd give them an entirely new name. Not just – oh."
Harry was in the middle of shutting the door and looked at me over top of the car. Or rather, glanced at me and then averted his gaze toward the direction that I was currently focused. At the SUV that had pulled up right behind us.
"It's one of ours," he assured me softly. I wrenched my gaze back over to him. "I was pretty gone last night and told them to stick around just in case. Forgot to tell them they were clear to go this morning and figured they're good to have around anyway."
"Right," I wasn't even concerned about that. I was concerned about how I'd gone an entire car ride not noticing they were tailing us because I'd been so caught up in talking to Harry. The very thing he'd been telling me week after week not to do, not to let my guard down.
"Coming?" Harry called out. He was halfway to the gate now.
I nodded, hurrying toward him. We both stopped in front of the ominous-looking panel, which came up to just under eye level when not in a car. Harry scanned his fingerprint first and then his retina, repeating his name last.
"You believe that I trust you, right?" he asked suddenly a few seconds later, turning to look at me.
"I... do," I nodded. "I think."
I hadn't thought about it in a while. Not since the day of my birthday where I'd somehow found myself wondering if I'd ever even asked him. It seemed he'd been able to read my mind.
His gaze was open, vulnerable. He kept his eyes on me for a few seconds before nodding and then turning back toward the panel where he clicked a few things that popped up, none of which I could read from where I was standing. It surprised me when he suddenly reached down to gently wrap his arm around my waist, urging me to step in front of the panel.
"Lean forward," he murmured, trailing his hand gently up my back. "It's going to scan your eye."
I obliged, nervous all of the sudden, letting this small panel shine a bright, green light on my retina. Blinking a few times, I pulled away when the automated voice announced that the scan was complete, only for Harry to catch my wrist, drawing my hand up to the screen where he placed my thumb on the tiny little pad at the bottom. I watched, somewhat in awe, while that same green light spread over my thumbprint.
"Say your name," Harry urged softly once that was complete. "Loudly. And make sure it's clear."
"Um," I leaned toward the small microphone. "River Madden. Shit, wait do I have to say my middle name–?"
Harry chuckled when I looked over at him, shaking his head. "No. You're good."
A second later, the screen beeped. We both turned at the same time to watch a message pop up reading only the single word, 'Approved'.
"So you won't be trapped the next time I leave you here," Harry said quietly, giving my wrist a gentle squeeze. "You have access to every security panel in and out of the house."
"Oh my god," I blurted, a little shocked. "That's – I mean... are you sure you want to do that?"
A long moment of silence passed in which Harry looked my face up and down a few times before swallowing hard and letting his fingers fall from my wrist to my hand, where he looped his pinky through mine and gave a gentle squeeze.
"I trust you, Riv."
He reached over to press a button, the gate beside us flying open seconds later.
"What if someone kills me," I asked, causing Harry to stiffen briefly and glance in my direction while the two of us walked side-by-side up his driveway, to which I quickly clarified, "I mean, what if they kill me and chop off my thumbs? Or carve out my eyeballs? You, of all people, should know that if it was going to fucking happen to anyone, it'd happen to me. Then, those people with my thumbs would have access to your house–"
"Stop going fucking insane over this," Harry laughed, looking down at me. "I won't let that happen. I won't let anyone carve out your eyeballs."
"That puts me very at ease," I said sarcastically. "Thank you."
It was weird to enter Harry's house through the side door of the garage. Having to walk past all of his cars knowing poor Moira was parked all the way at the end of the street, but he hadn't been lying when he said there quite literally was no room for her. I guess every other time we'd come, it had been in one of his cars or there'd been an empty space.
"Do you care a lot about those pants?" Harry asked when the two of us entered the elevator. He was across from me with either of his hands braced on the railing.
I frowned, glancing down at what I was wearing. "Why?"
"Because I don't think you should wear them to Devil's Due if you do care about them." The elevator doors slid open, revealing his foyer, and he gestured with one arm for me to step out before following behind me. "You're going to be near a lot of vials of ink," his hand had drifted to my back, where he was currently toying with the hem of my shirt. "And knowing you, you're probably gonna end up fuckin' running into the cart or some shit and getting that ink all over you."
"That's–" I opened my mouth to fire something back about how that wasn't true, only to shut it a moment later when I realized that it was. "That's... you're probably right. But shit, I didn't bring any other clothes. You couldn't have warned me before we left?"
"'M selfishly gonna say that you just look really fucking good in what you're wearing and I forgot," his words made me dizzy briefly, and while I worked to recover, he went on, "I've got shit in my room you can put on, c'mon."
I followed him up the stairs, hyperaware of the fact that he was guiding me by my lower back, having barely taken his hands off me since we got into the house. By the time we reached his room, that same feeling of apprehension that I'd had the last time before going in overwhelmed me. If Harry noticed this, he said nothing. He threw the door open in one swift motion, stepping ahead of me and inside.
"I'm gonna shower, okay?" he said and disappeared into his closet before I'd even fully had a chance to enter the room, my feet still frozen at the entryway. When he reappeared, he was holding a towel and a change of clothes. He grinned upon catching my eye. "I'd ask you to join me, but we, unfortunately, don't have the time today," he jerked his chin over his shoulder, "Go through my closet though and just grab anything you can find to wear. I don't really fucking care about getting ink on any of my shit."
"You want me to..." I wrung my hands together nervously. "Go through your closet?"
Harry reached behind him, yanking his shirt off over his head. "That's what I said, yeah." Before I had the chance to respond, he was in front of me, hand drifting up my side where he gave me a squeeze right below the ribs. "I'll be quick, Riv. Back in a few." Then he fled from the room, leaving me standing there alone and nervous.
"Go through his closet," I muttered under my breath. His room still seemed like unmarked territory for me – new and un-explorative. It felt wrong to be standing here, despite the fact that he'd willingly ushered me in.
This was fine. I was being stupid. Overdramatic. I took a few steps forward, my eyes carefully dancing the length of the space – my gaze a little more subdued than it had been last time, given the fact that I didn't feel like anyone was hovering over my shoulder, judging me for taking an interest in Harry's personal space. That being said, I still anxiously looked behind me the further I ventured in, worried he was going to pop up out of nowhere.
His room was clean. Immaculately so, save for his armchair by the window which had a blanket strewn over it and an empty mug on the ground by the legs. A book had been left open on the ottoman and I found myself craning my neck, trying to read the title, despite the fact that there was a stack of books just a few feet away that I could easily take a look at.
Instead, though, something else caught my eye. I straightened up, noticing what hadn't been in here the last time, on display for whoever entered to see. My painting. On the wall across from his bed. And on the wall to the left was one of the other's that I'd given him, hung a little off quilter. I took a few careful steps over, adjusting it gently, before letting my hand trail over all of the other things he'd drawn on his walls.
Places, things, outlines of people. Beautiful. It was all beautiful. And I hated how it always caught me off guard how talented he was.
It was only when I clued into the sound of running water in the distance that I remembered what I was in here for and hastily pulled myself away from the personal confines of Harry's room toward his closet, which wasn't any less interesting. Jesus, he had a lot of clothing. Most of it hung, the remaining articles poking out of his dresser drawers or folded lazily and thrown onto a shelf.
I reefed through some of what he had laid out until I got my hands on a t-shirt and pair of sweatpants, which I hoped I wouldn't be swimming in when we got to Devil's Due. I changed in his closet, pausing on the way out when I passed his leather suit that he'd hung up. The one he'd worn to the first fight I'd seen him at.
My fingers reached up, grazing over a small bit of red lipstick that had stained the collar.
"River?"
"Hi, yeah–" I stammered, quickly dropping my hand and heading back out into the room. "I'm here."
Harry was clothed in a pair of black Adidas track pants and an oversized hoodie when I made my way out to greet him. His hair was still damp, and he was busy putting back in his earring when his eyes landed on mine. He looked me once up and down, his brows quirking together slightly amused.
"You look like you're ready for bed," he commented dryly.
"What did you want me to wear?" I rolled my eyes, shoving my clothes that I'd balled up under my arm. "One of your suits?" I held up my hand before he could respond. "That was a rhetorical question."
"You sure you won't be too hot?" he asked a little teasingly as the two of us made our way out of his room, something I was cursing myself for not inspecting further when he'd been in the shower. "I'm sure I have a pair of shorts I could give you–"
"No way in hell am I showing up in men's oversized athletic shorts that will probably fall to my ankles whenever I stand up."
Harry laughed, tucking his thumb into the hem of my sweatpants and pulling the band back a fraction while we began our descent down the stairs. "And these won't fall off you?"
I rolled my eyes. "This is a safer bet than shorts."
"You're so dramatic," Harry teased, withdrawing his fingers and letting them skirt over the length of my waist until his arm was nearly completely around me. "No way in fucking hell–"
His words were cut off short by the sound of a phone ringing. It took both of us a few seconds to realize that it was coming from the wad of clothes beneath my arm, which I hastily began to dig through moments later. It was his phone, which had still been tucked away in the pocket of my pants.
He answered it the second I placed it in his palm, barely even glancing at the contact name. I could have sworn the person on the other line had only just started talking before he dropped his arm from around me and was stalking toward the living room, leaving me on the stairs to follow quickly after him.
Harry was in front of the set monitors by his elevator doors, all of which showcased the different parts of his house that the security cameras were watching. I walked up beside him, my eyes landing on the one that had piqued his interest.
The screen depicted his street just beyond the gates. Nothing seemed out of order. There was Moira, the black SUV – or actually... I leaned in, squinting. Under further scrutiny, it looked like there were actually two black SUVs now. My mouth curved into a frown, certain that it hadn't been there when we'd arrived.
"Yeah," Harry said lowly into the receiver, catching me by surprise. I'd almost forgotten he was on the phone. Every part of me filled with dread when I turned to look at him, at the side profile of his face which was now taut with unease. "I'll open the gates, tell them to come up." He paused. "Yeah, she'll be down in a second."
He hung up the phone moments later, shoving it deep into his hoodie pocket before running a hand over his face with an inward groan. He dragged those same fingers through his still-damp hair, turning to look at me. That sunken black eye of his looked all the more upsetting when it matched the tone of his face.
"Is everything okay?" I asked quickly, hugging my clothes to my chest. "What's going on?"
"There's..." he drew in a short breath, "There's been a change of plans. I've gotta meet with someone meaning we can't go to Devil's Due."
I nodded slowly, taking in his rigid stature and the way his entire demeanour had done a full 180 – like it usually did when it came to the fights or anything to do with his daunting superior. "Does this have to do with Damien?"
Harry's eyes flitted over to the monitors, mine following seconds later, the two of us watching as the black SUV pulled up toward his house. "C'mon," Harry said quickly and braced a hand on my back, urging me toward the elevators. He seemed especially on edge when the two of us stepped inside and he didn't speak again until we were inside the garage. "I'm – fuck, I'm sorry, Riv. I didn't realize anyone would be coming today."
"Don't apologize," I replied earnestly, trying to match his pace as he made his way across the dimly lit, cement room. "You didn't know."
Harry stopped abruptly when we reached the side door and whirled toward me, his hand closing around my wrist. He slid it up until it was braced on my forearm and glanced once over his shoulder at the other door across the room, the one where I had no doubt the people he was meeting were going to be entering anytime soon, before saying, "Go outside and walk right down the driveway toward the street. Use your fingerprint to open the gate and then get in Moira and let the guys follow you home, okay?"
I was especially grateful that the scary SUV was here now, given how on edge Harry seemed. I nodded, reaching a hand toward the door at the same moment some commotion was heard across the garage. "Got it. Okay."
For a brief second, Harry said nothing. He still had a hold on my forearm and I awkwardly stood there, waiting for him to let go when he suddenly reached with his free hand toward my shoulder and smoothed it up my neck to cup my jaw. It took me completely by surprise when he leaned forward, placing his lips against mine.
"I'll make it up to you," he murmured into my mouth, his breathing now a fraction uneven. His hand closed a little tighter – almost insistently, the rings on his fingers digging into the skin of my cheek. "Promise."
I tipped my head up to kiss him back, knowing it was unlike us but hoping that it could lessen whatever anxiety of his had appeared so suddenly. "I know you will," I replied softly and then pulled away, throwing the door open the very same moment the one at the other side of the garage opened as well. "Keep an eye on the cameras to make sure no one steals my thumbs on the way down."
And then I ducked out into the sunshine, leaving him standing there looking a little lost for once.
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a/n: thank you so much for 500k<3 i can't even express how appreciative I am! love you xo