Juliet.
I inhaled deeply, knocking on his front door. After a few moments, Harry opened the door. He grins and says, "Good morning, princess."
As I watched Harry, I grin from ear to ear sarcastically. His tie was hanging limply around his neck, and he was wearing a black button-up shirt with many of the buttons undone.
He was carrying sippy cups, and his pants were undone. " Hello."
"Staring is extremely impolite."
"I wasn't staring." I clarified. I doubt that I will ever stop being astounded by how big this house is for just three people, no matter how often I enter it.
He can throw a party for 500 people and still have room for more. "I'm running a little late." He hands me two cups. One in sage green and one in pink. "They're in the playroom, watching TV."
"Am I supposed to know where the playroom is?" I raise my head, looking at him. Harry placed his hands on my back and pushed me towards two large doors.
"Don't think you'll miss it there." I teasingly smile at him and walk towards the playroom.
"Jesus!" My lips parted and my eyes darted in all directions. This playroom was even bigger than my apartment. It had two levels, with stairs leading up to a smaller playroom with a big slide that led to a ball pit. indoor swings, their names written in cursive on the wall. There was a jungle section, another ball pit, monkey bars, a big TV on a wall, and colorful floors and walls. A bucket full of toys
There was a section in the back that looked like a bed with a television inside, bookshelves, a play kitchen, a market, and a doctor's office. This was every child's dream. Toys were strewn about the floor, and a small fridge was stocked with juice and water.
The girls look up from the long black couch with big smiles on their faces when they notice me.
" Juliet!" I smiled as they both screamed.
"Good morning girls," I murmured. "Now, can you guys help me out here? Whose is the green cup?"
"Mine, mine!" Azriela giggled and extended her hands to me, "Green is my favorite color."
"Green is a lovely color." My gaze shifts to Marceline, her hands pressed against her mouth, an eager expression on her face. I knew the pink cup belonged to her, but I also knew she was waiting for me to ask.
"Now whose cup is the pink one?"
" Mine!" Marceline yells, leaping into her position. "My favorite color is pink." She turns her head.
"Pink is a pretty color." I smiled, handing her the pink cup. "What are you drinking?"
"Milk," she uttered, sticking her tongue out.
"Do you want some?"
I creased my brow, shaking my head. "No, but thanks." Marceline hums, her gaze returning to the television.
"Juliet," Harry calls for me; he was standing outside the playroom.
" Yeah?" Harry was now fully dressed, with his button done and a tie on.
"I put my card and some cash on the kitchen counter in case you wanted to get some food. I assume you're not a very good cook." He beams.
"How would you know?"
"Your kitchen speaks for itself." My mouth opened wide. "Ramen noodles? Microwave macaroni? Aren't you supposed to eat healthy because it's good for you?"
"I tell my patient that." I chuckled, "I, on the other hand, will consume whatever my body craves; junk food can't take me out first."
"Sure," Harry mocks, "The girls ate breakfast; they have snacks in the kitchen. They usually take a nap at twelve, so don't go crazy with the sweets or they'll become hyper. I should be back before their bedtime, but if I'm not, their bedtime is at seven twenty."
"Why 7:20?" I laughed. "That's such a weird number."
"Ion know. Get them used to other things," Harry folded his lips, "Juliet, please take care of them, okay? Call me if anything happens. They're my only family."
Does Harry think I'm going to hurt them? I could never hurt a child. Regardless of how much I despise Harry, children are meant to be protected and loved in every way possible. I can't wait to have children and give them everything my mother didn't give me.
Love and affection are the most important. Show them how valuable they are and how much they are loved in this cruel, nasty world. Their features don't reflect who they are in reality.
As Harry's friend, I will defend these girls with my entire life and every bone in my body. I'm aware that Harry is a good dad, and even though I don't know anything about their mother, I know all children are innocent and deserve everything. My heart broke a little, and I tilted my head. Harry looked at me expectantly, and my lips parted to say something, but nothing came out. I shook my head, and a visible form appeared on my lips.
" Harry."
"Juliet," he mocks.
"Harry, if there is one thing I can promise you in this world, it is that I will always be good to children, especially yours. No matter what. I'm not a bad person. You can trust me, okay? They're in good hands," he nods. "Are they allergic to anything?"
"Marcey is allergic to peanuts, but we don't have any of those in our house," he enunciated, his eyes widening, and he ran a hand through his brown, untamed hair. "And Azri isn't allergic to anything, but she is very affectionate; she may try to cuddle you, sleep on top of you, or just be around you in general; she's a gentle baby; she also suckers on her thumb; can you please wash her hands if they're dirty?"
I nodded again; he looked desperate, trying to fill me in. "Marcey is a highly hyperactive child; don't give her too many sweets, and if she offends Azri, correct her; they've been arguing recently, and I don't know why." He shakes his head and looks behind me.
"I think it is natural for siblings to fight. Do you have siblings?" I questioned, smiling.
"That's none of your business," I frowned, "And that's all of it. I need to go." He walks past me and kisses the girls on the forehead.
"I love you, my little loves. I'll see you later," Harry whispered to both girls while I stood there stunned. "Daddy has to go to work."
"Okay, I love you." Marceline's smile broadens, and she blows him a kiss.
"Goodbye, Daddy,"
"Goodbye, baby honey." Azriela blew Harry a kiss as well, and he smiled like a child.
"See you later, princess." I give him a flat stare.
"Hold on, Harry!" He comes to a halt and raises an eyebrow at me. "Uhm... Did you ever figure out who it was?"
He took a deep breath and shook his head." No. Not yet."
I closed my eyes and nodded. " Alright,"
"I'm going to find out who it is."
I nodded, "Bye Harry." I glared at him, and he smiled.
I didn't think Harry was bad at his job, but if my mother's case went cold, I had no hope. I doubt they'd ever figure out who texted me a few words.
When my mother died, the FBI was involved for months, but nothing came of it... Not a single clue, investigation after investigation, digging up people from her past—but it all came to a stop.
Her death will forever be a murder mystery or so I thought.
Since then, all of my hope has been lost when it comes to the cartel and the risks it presents. Harry couldn't accomplish it, but I wasn't going to be mad at him for that.
Whoever this person is, they're playing a sick joke on me, or they are my mom's killer, and they're very talented, so hopefully, they'll get caught.
I return to the girls' room and sit down on the couch. The girls were watching the princess and the frog, singing along to the songs.
"Do you like to paint?" Marceline asked me.
"I love painting." I beam
"Do you want to paint with me?" She asks with a sneaky grin on her face.
"Of course," I murmured, returning her smile. "Do you want to paint with us, Azriela?"
Azriela looks away from the television and points a hand under her chin as if debating the question I asked her. She cracks a smile and nods her head, her blonde hair flipping around.
"All right, little girls, let's go."
"I'm not little." Marceline maintains her position, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am a big girl, and daddy says big girls eat all their food, and I ate all my food."
I breathed out a laugh. "I'm sorry; of course, you're a big girl; you're so big and strong that I think you can carry me."
"No, I can't!" Azriela giggled. "You're too heavy," I sulked, looking over at Azriela, who was giggling.
"No, I am not." My head shook. "I think you're heavy since you're a big, strong girl."
Marceline mimics my shake of the head. " No." She giggles as she extends the final letter. "Daddy always carries me and Azri." She rolls her eyes and turns to face Azriela.
"Right, Azri," she grins.
"Daddy is strong." Azriela giggles. "Let's paint a picture for daddy!" It's as if a light bulb went off inside their heads, and she turns to face her sister.
" Yes! Daddy's with us at the park playing," Marceline agrees. They led me to a corner of the room. Marceline rummages through a box. "What colors do we need?"
I murmured, "Green for grass," and she took it out.
" Pink! "My outfit is going to be pink," Marceline shouts, throwing multiple pinks on the ground.
"Yellow, for my hair and the sun," Azriela adds. I grinned before stooping to their level. "And brown for your hair and daddy's."
"As well as Juliet's hair." Marceline murmured, "And her skin too."
"And blue for the sky, and this color." She takes out some paint that matches their skin tone. I nodded and set it down on the floor. "Okay! It's now time to paint. Marceline announces, leaning back on the ground and handing me a palette, onto which I have squeezed some paint that they intend to use first.
"Juliet, you can paint the sun." I nodded, dipping my brush into the yellow paint, and watched as a small portion of the once-white canvases turned yellow.
They painted a portrait for Harry for what seemed like an eternity. They were so eager to reveal it to him that they hid it in the playroom for a huge surprise when he returned.
We spent a lot of time playing and painting until I selected the perfect time to take them to the park. I had no idea what Harry did most of the time with them, but I did know that all kids enjoy going to the park.
I know there's one not too far from where Harry lives; it's super safe and perfect for them to play and kill some time, maybe even exhaust them just in time for their naps.
After the park, I'd take them to lunch and then bring them home for showers and naps.
"Okay, girls, your father didn't say much about your schedule—but do you guys shower now or at night?" I cocked my head, and the girls grinned at each other.
"Before bedtime."
"Mhm," I hum, "Do you want to go to the park? And then we're going to have lunch."
"Park!" they say loudly, "Yes!" I smiled, and a little voice carried me around the house.
"Let's go change, little ladies, and we need to do something about that pretty hair."
"Can I have two ponytails?" Marceline inquired.
"Can I have half down and half up?" Azriela tugs at my t-shirt, standing on her tiptoes and pouting her lips.
"Of course, we can. Would you guys please show me to your rooms?"
"Follow me!" Standing tall and beaming, Marceline exudes confidence in her body. She walks past me and out of the playroom.
Azriela continues to be by my side, grabbing my hands. "Can you hold my hands?" She asked shyly, I smiled and nodded, and we both followed Marceline, stopping in front of the stairs near a baby gate.
"I'm not sure how to open it." Marceline turns around and peers up at me, glancing bewilderedly.
I smiled, stepping forward to open the baby gate. Both Marceline and Azriela gasped, plunging me into confusion.
"How did you do that?" Marceline's green eyes enlarge, and she turns to face her sister before turning to face me. "She has magic powers like daddy."
"Magic power like daddy?" They both nodded, and I chuckled.
"Daddy says only people with magic power can open it." The thought of Harry saying that sent me into a stupor.
The intimidatingly scary man acts childlike.
"Your daddy gave me some magic power before he left for work," I said with a grin.
" Ah!" Azriela tutted, her tongue protruding, tilting her head, and giving me puppy eyes. "Can you give me magic powers?"
" Oh- oh."
"No, me." Marceline stomps her foot and crosses her hands over her chest. "I'm older."
"No, you're not." Azriela frowns, shaking her head. "I asked first, and Daddy said whoever asks first gets it."
"It's not fair." Marceline huffs,
"I can't give you magical powers, sweet girls; only your daddy can, okay? There is no reason to fight."
They exchange frowning glances with one another. "Are we all right?" I then questioned them, and they nodded. "If we fight, we can't have girl days; who wants a girl day?"
"Me! Me! " They both squeal, but Marceline comes to a halt and looks around.
"What's a girl's day?" She bites her lower lip and pulls her brown hair away from her face.
"Well, a girls' day can consist of just us spending time together, eating a lot of sweets, going shopping, getting our nails done, going to the park, and having fun together."
"Oh," Marceline smiles, "Ok, let's go get ready." She pauses before walking up the stairs, her gaze returning to mine. "We need to hold your hands as we walk up the stairs."
"Daddy says we can fall and hurt ourselves, so we should never go alone." Squeezing my hands, Azriela murmured, the warmth of her small fingers spreading through my palms.
Marceline and Azriela both held my hand as we climbed the seemingly endless stairs. Once we reached the top floor, there was another set of stairs to my left, much smaller in size, and directly in front of me was a room with two large doors; Azriela and Marceline turned to walk down our right, passing a few closed doors.
They came to a halt at the end, Marceline to her right and Azriela to her left.
"Oh, you guys have different rooms."I mean, I couldn't have expected anything less. They both enter their rooms, and I enter behind Azriela as she leads me to her room.
Azriela's bedroom had two walls that were sage green and baby pink, a queen bed in the middle, and two pillows that were pink and white and both wrapped in a gold-striped border. The white planet had the appearance of marble. Right where the green finishes were, there were two long gold bars, two nightstands, a large teddy bear on the floor, a miniature white vanity, a small pink chair, and a mirror.
On the opposite side of the room, there was a bookcase filled with children's books, a tiny green chair, some additional stuffed animals, and tiny candy wrappers that I'm sure she ate when she wasn't supposed to, and then there was a white door that led us into the walk-in closet.
"What would you like to wear?"
"I want to wear this blue shirt," Azriela said. I pick up the item she points to in her closet and show it to her.
Azriela tilts her head and shakes it. "No. I want that." Azriela gestures at a beige sweatshirt. She nods and waggles a finger under her chin. It was just a plain beige sweater. "Daddy says to wear black pants... when we go to the park."
"That's perfect; it's a bit chilly outside, so we need to wear a sweater, okay? What shoes do you want to wear?" I take out a sweater.
"I want my green sneakers," she asserts as she points to them, and I nod slightly wider, knowing the brand alone was pricey.
"Do you need help changing?" I asked, and she shook her head.
"Nope! I'm a big girl,"
"I'll go help your sister, call me if you need help"
She doesn't acknowledge me, but I leave, giving her the space she needed to change. Knocking gently on Marceline's door, she yells at me to come.
Marceline's room was very different from Azriela's. It was all pink, the wall behind her bed was white with clouds and stars, her bed was blue and round, there were shelves on either side of her bed with books and stuffed animals, some flower pots that looked too nice to be real, a gold chandelier with white balls that looked a little like clouds, a pink rug under her bed, and another big stuff animal just like Azriela's.
She had hung a painting she had painted, a small vanity similar to Azriela's, and then the door to her closet on the other side of her wall.
"Do you already know what you want to wear?" I asked, and she looked up from the floor.
Marceline nods, rising to her feet. "I want to wear that." She pointed to a pink sweater that looked exactly like Azriela's, followed by black pants. I took it, and she went to get her pink sneakers.
"That's it." Marceline takes the clothes from my hands and walks back to her room.
"Do you need help changing?"
"No." She shakes her head, and I nod.
"I'll be outside. Come out when you're ready." She nods, and I walk out, giving her some privacy.
I'm standing in the hallway as Azriela exits. I exhale a chuckle and move in her direction. "You're wearing your shirt backward, sweetheart." She glances at me bewildered, examining her shirt below. "Can I help you here?"
"Yes, please." We return to her room, and I go down on one knee, I remove her shirt from her body and turn it inside out.
She puckers her lips and shivers in the cold.
"It's cold!" she exclaims.
"I know! I know, I'm sorry." I slip the sweater back into her body, and she laughs, pushing her hair away from my face.
"Now, did you already brush your teeth, or should we go do that?"
She beams, showing me her pearly whites. "I brushed my teeth. See clean! I always brush my teeth with Daddy and Marcey."
" Good. Now, while we wait for your sister, can you show me where your hairbrush is? That's your bathroom, right?
Azriela nods. "But Daddy says we can't go inside the bathroom, so he locks it," she says, turning to face the door.
" Oh?"
I became perplexed about why Harry locked the bathroom door. But then again, I've heard a lot of parents do that. A bathroom that has access to water can lead to drowning.
A parent's biggest fear
"Where does Daddy brush your hair?"
"I can show you where it is in daddy's room."
" Oh?" I took a deep breath. "I don't think I can enter your dad's room." I grin.
"Juliet!" Marceline screams for me. "Can you help me?"
"I'm coming!" I yell right back, looking down at Azriela.
"Let's go over to your sister," I say softly. We walk over to Marceline's room, where she is holding her shoes in her hands and passing them to me.
I helped her put on her shoes before they led me back to the front and through the big two doors.
Harry's room
"Jesus," I mumbled as soon as I stepped into Harry's room. This house amazed me in every way.
His room was fucking incredible; his walls were all white with a few designs all around the room; he had a California king-size baby blue bed; the wall behind the bed matched his bed, but it looked like squares with a diamond in the middle; right above the bed was a tinted mirror with a chandelier built into it as if it were raining; large windows; a pastel blue curtain pushed to the side; and a view of his backyard—his backyard.
A few feet away, there was a pink couch in the shape of a C, two small wooden coffee tables with flower pots and books, and a big screen T.V. In front of the bed, there was one long mirror across a wall and an open walk-in closet that was very organized.
Azriela and Marceline confidently approach a door, leading me into the bathroom.
The bathroom was as big as his room, if not bigger, with white and beige floor tiles, a square bathtub in the middle, one long sliding door near the end of a wall, and a shower—the biggest shower I'd ever seen—with two sinks and a wide mirror.
The girls grabbed two stools from under the sink and stood on them, staring in the mirror while passing me a brush.
"All right, I'll start with Marceline first"
Azriela nods, and I stand behind her, parting her wavy hair and tying each section into a ponytail.
"What do we think?" Marceline grins, turning her head over her shoulder.
" Good."
"Perfect," I smile, turning to face Azriela, who has her hair parted half up and half down. I helped the girls down and grabbed their hands before leaving Harry's house. I seated the girls in their car seats and headed toward the park.
I can hear the girls giggling and talking with each other. The drive to the park was short and fast, with the girls singing along to the tunes on the radio and talking about everything their little eyes caught.
Once we arrived at the park, the girls were very excited, speeding off to the slides as soon as we walked through those gates.
I smiled softly, watching them, sitting down on a bench nearby where I watched the girls slide down the same slide repeatedly, not giving any other kids a chance, and playing together.
The park was full of kids—parents sitting down on benches watching their little ones, some using their phones, reading a magazine, or chatting it up with someone.
Kids are running and screaming; some even cry as they fall and injure themselves; some are eating snacks to stay active. Taking children to the park was perfect for any parent who wanted their children to fall asleep as soon as they arrived home.
Azriela and Marceline were running around in front of a set of swings when they called me over. I quickly went over, pushing them both at the same time, hearing their giggles whenever they went fast and high.
I couldn't stop smiling as their little cheeks flushed and they attempted to hold hands.
"Faster! Faster! " They shouted, and I did.
I laughed and stopped them after a while. Their giggles carried throughout the park. I'm so dizzy!" jokes Marceline, breaking into a smile.
"Again! Again!" And I do it again and again until my arms ache. After long hours of playing at the park, we all walked to a restaurant, sat down, and ordered lunches, which they ate immediately.
When we arrived at Harry's house, I showered the kids, dressed them in cozy clothes, and put them down for naps. An hour later, they woke up and continued playing in the house.
We also watched movies and ate lots of snacks and sweets. Azriela was a sweet baby who always wanted to be close to me, holding my hands, laying her head on me, and playing with me. Harry was right about Azriela. She also sucked on her thumb, which is something I've seen her do when she's sleepy, nervous, or in need of assurance.
That was similar to a coping mechanism for her—something she found comfortable.
And we had takeout since, as Harry had anticipated, I am a terrible cook. I can cook, but even the simplest thing would require me to burn two dishes and look them up on YouTube.
It's not that I never wanted to learn; rather, the way the meat looked, and any food, creeped me out.
Once we ordered food, we watched The Princess and the Frog for the fourth time today, and they were sleepy almost halfway through the movie. It was only half an hour before their bedtime, and I don't know if Harry would be mad, but they were tired, and when kids are tired, I'm taking them to bed.
"Are you ready for bed?" They opened their eyes sluggishly as I questioned, pausing the movie. Azriela's thumb slipped from her mouth.
"Where's daddy? He always reads me a bedtime tale," Azriela murmurs.
I frowned. "Daddy's still working, Azriela. Do you want me to read you a bedtime story?"
Azriela looks at her sister, biting her lip and nodding. "Do you want to sleep with me?"
While holding her sister's hands, Marceline nods. "Yeah! So maybe Daddy comes sooner." Azriela nods, and she reaches for my hands, dragging me into her room.
When I turned on the nightstand, Azriela's thumb was back in her mouth, and Marceline was snuggled up next to her sister under the red heart comforter. I move up to the window and close the curtains while giving them a gentle smile.
"What story should I read?" I asked, looking through her books.
"The Princess and the Frog," I hum, picking it out and sitting on the edge of the bed in a position where they can see the book.
"Once upon a time...
By the time I reached the halfway point in the book, both girls were out and about, their mouths escaping tiny snores. I beam, silently exiting the room, switch off the lights, went downstairs, and tidy up any messes the twins left.
I was feeling drowsy and sitting on his couch while watching a movie on television. It was late; why pass on the hour Harry gave me? I wonder if he is safe.
He hasn't texted me once, but I was scared to reach out and text him. He would probably get annoyed at me and yell at me, and I don't have it in me to argue with him through text.
I do wonder how he argues through text. It might be a bit funny to see him get frustrated through texts.
My eyes close, only to be startled awake by any noise that occurred in his backyard. I despise the fact that he lives in such a large house; anything could happen and I wouldn't know about it, but I tried to stay positive, a blanket draped over my body as I tried to pay attention to this movie.
My heart stops as I hear the front door open and a few footsteps carry around the house. " Juliet!" Harry yells my name, and I'm on my feet, walking rapidly toward the front door.
" Harry?" I swallowed and stood in front of him. Harry was no longer wearing his tie, and his shirt was completely unbuttoned, blood trickling down his chest. He was holding a girl, a bleeding girl, with her head leaning against another man, who was also holding her but more like her wound.
My gaze lingered on the man; he appeared familiar—brown hair, blue eyes, tattoos all over him; he looked stressed; more people were behind him—but it was too much for me to take, too much for me to process what the hell was going on.
The girl's hand was bloody, covering her wound as well. Her gaze slid down my body, and I saw her face scrunch up in pain before she closed it. The guy's eyes were helpless as he looked at me. "She's bleeding," I point out, and Harry gives his famous blank stare.
"No, shit," Harry adds, shaking his head, "She got stabbed. I need you to sew her up."
Panic surges through my body as if I don't know what to do. Yes, I'd stitched many people before—with and without anesthesia—but this was like a bomb had been dropped on me, and I had no idea what to do.
I felt trapped. I was caught off guard, and she emerged in pain, her face scrunching up every few minutes.
"Is the area where she was stabbed dangerous?" The man asked me, It was dangerously close to her stomach—it could be very threatening, depending on where the blade entered and if it caused any damage.
I looked up. "Maybe," I say honestly, "I won't know until I check it out." They walked past me and into the living room.
Niall, who worked at the tattoo shop, walked in smiling, his blue eyes lit up when I smiled back. Then another man walked into the house. He stood in front of me for a few seconds, his eyes roving over my features. He was wearing a bloody t-shirt with a gun tucked into the front of the waist of his pants, and his hands were all bruised, as well as under his eyes. He by far has the most tattoos—all over his neck, hands, and a scar right under his eyes.
Whatever they just did was deadly and insanely stupid, as they all turned out badly.
"Liam, stop staring at her." Now that I was even more perplexed, I looked up and saw Zayn pushing a bag into my hands. "Hello, JJ."
"Why in the world are you here?" I raised an eyebrow and thought, "What the hell is going on?"
"Zayn, how do you know her?" Liam asked, and Zayn turned me around and urged me to walk to where the bleeding girl was.
It dawned on me that the girl sitting on the couch with her hands covering her wounds and eyes hanging low as she stared back was the girl Andrea was looking for—I believe her name is Abigail. I saw her the day of the casino. She, too, looked familiar, and I knew that.
And the guy helped Harry escape from the scene of the crash; his tattoos and his recognizable blue eyes were making everything in my head clicked into place, pushing me through the roof.
The moment Harry hit my car, he was doing something illegal—dumping bags from his trunk into another getaway car. Finding out what occurred that night was the only thing left at this point. Why did he act so carelessly and leave?
Just as it seemed to click in my thoughts, it also appeared to click with Abigail; she pointed at me, her eyes widening. "Hey, it's you." After putting my bag down, I glanced around for my gloves.
"Hi!" I laughed.
"I'm the bartender from Harry's casino." She runs her tongue over her lips. "Abigail,"
"I remember," I nodded, "I didn't know you were friends with such a jerk like Harry."
Abigail laughs, and I walk closer, setting down my things. "I don't have any anesthesia; this might hurt a little more than it should," I muttered, looking into her brown eyes, ignoring the blood splattered on her face.
The man who helped Harry escape the car crash was right next to her, holding her bloody hand. whispering something in her ears.
Abigail hums, "I'm high as fuck. I'll be more than okay." She looks up at the man standing next to her and smiles: "Babe, that's the girl that I so badly wanted to sleep with; oh, and her friend; what's her name again?"
" Andrea?" I chuckle looking over at Harry, who is standing nearby, staring at me.
"Andrea," Abigail repeats, I pull the shirt off, blood trickling down, grabbing the alcohol wipe, cleaning around her wound, and she gasps, her body jerking, and her eyes closing.
"Sorry," I apologized, and she hummed, gripping her pants until her knuckles turned white.
"Hmm," Abigail murmured something I couldn't make out. " Holy fuck—that fucking burns—fuck. I'm fine! I'm fine."
I cleaned a little more, feeling terrible, with a new alcohol wipe; my white gloves were tinged a dark red.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" A voice behind me inquired; I ignored him and grabbed the needle, soaking it in alcohol.
I sit on my heel and lean in closer, inserting the needle into Abigail's skin and beginning with a knot.
Abigail's brow furrows in pain, and she looks away. "She doesn't seem to know what she's doing—that's too painful," said the same voice from behind me, and I was just as irritated.
I turned my head and looked at the man my brother had earlier spoken with. Liam. "Would you like to do it? Because I'll stand up and let you handle it."
Liam remained silent, and I took a quick inhale. "Please let me focus; if I didn't know what I was doing, I wouldn't be trying."
"She has a fucking nasty attitude, Harry." I looked up at him, his eyes already on Liam, and I taunted.
"I don't have an attitude; you're just giving your opinion when it's not necessary; I have my master for this. Now stop talking unless you have one yourself."
He doesn't say anything for more than a second, which causes Abigail to chuckle and pull Harry's belt loops. "Where do you find this one? She's hilarious. Are you the girls' new nanny?"
"She isn't," Harry responded. I can feel his gaze burning into my skin, but I do nothing but stitch her up, watching the skin come together just a quarter-inch from each other and from the skin edges, which should barely touch.
I hold the long end of the thread with my left hand and wrap it once clockwise around the needle driver. Open the needle driver slightly and grab the short end of the thread.
pulling the long part of the thread with my left hand.
"I don't think I ever got your name," Abigail says after a few minutes of silence, her breath heavy and pain-filled as she spoke softly to me.
"Don't bother her, Abby," Harry lets out after a few moments of silence.
"My name is Juliet," I say under my breath, "How are you feeling? Is it hurting too much?" Every time she shakes her head, I can feel her body tensing.
"No—fine, keep going; are you almost done?"
"I am." I nod. Most sewing takes ten minutes or less, depending on the cut.
Abigail hums "Juliet, this is my boyfriend, Louis; behind you is Liam, Niall, and, uh, Zayn. Since nobody knows how to introduce themselves,"
I chuckled, "Yeah, I've met Niall before, and I'm Zayn's sister."
"You're related to Zayn?" Liam and Abigail say in shock. I hummed, and when I looked up at Zayn, he was silent and also looking at me.
"Stop asking Juliet questions and let her concentrate." Harry clenched his teeth firmly.
As soon as I was done, I leaned back and raised an eyebrow at her, removing my bloody gloves and placing them into a bag before grabbing a bandage and wrapping her.
"I'm finished." I guffawed. "I recommend taking something for the discomfort. Since there was no anesthesia used, the pain will last for some time."
"Do painkillers work?" I hum.
"It will." I exhaled and took a glance around.
"If I have sex, will it rip them off?"
"Yes, any hash motion can rip your stitches. So, this means avoiding any heavy lifting, strenuous activity, or wetting them—you know, the basics."
" Mhm." Abigail's eyes close abruptly, showing obvious distress. I stand to my feet and look over at Harry.
I'm not sure if the blood on his chest is his or someone else's, but it seems to be defining his abs in some way.
" Juliet." Zayn steps in front of me, and I look up, taking a step. Firstly, he was close, and secondly, I was still furious with him.
" Why have you been ignoring me?" He inquired. His voice was quite stern and demanding, and he raised an eyebrow.
"I have not been ignoring you, Zayn," I whispered, shaking my head, and began to gather my belongings. "I'm going home; I'm exhausted." I spun on my feet and turned to face Harry. "Is anyone else bleeding, or can I go home?"
"We need to talk, Juliet," Harry speaks, stopping me from picking up my belongings.
I wrinkled my eyes. "Talk about what?" I can feel everyone staring at me, which makes me nervous.
They were all unusually quiet. I didn't notice the duffle bags on the floor—duffle bags they were looking through but didn't take anything out of.
I'm curious about what it is. I return my gaze to Harry, who is also staring at the long bags. He exhaled and walked away from Abigail.
"Just wait," Harry states, and Zayn reappears in my line of sight.
I shook my head before Zayn could say anything. "Back off." I looked up at Zayn, annoyed, but he ignored me and took a step closer, so I took a step back and walked away.
"I don't know if I'm just high—or if they don't look like siblings who like each other." From the couch, Abigail laughs.
"Jesus, Juliet, you can't seriously still be mad at me."
I sit down on one of the couches and look up at Zayn. "I'm not arguing with you here." He looked annoyed— looking down at me angrily.
"How come you didn't tell me?" I kept quiet, looking around the room. Zayn takes a step back. "Can you all leave?"
"Do you want to carry me out?" Abigail states from her spot. "I'm in a lot of pain."
"Go home."
"Stop bossing people around." I stood and cleared my throat. "Fine, you want to talk? Let's go talk somewhere private."
Zayn nodded, and we both walked towards the sliding door and stepped outside. We were in complete darkness, with only the moonlight shining on his features and he clenched his jaw, reached into his pockets, and pulled out a cigarette.
I watched in silence as the breeze brushed against my skin, sending goosebumps up and down my arms. I turned my head to the side to try and see what was going on in the backyard, but it was all so dark. I could only make out a few chairs and perhaps a pool. and play sets.
"Why are you acting this way?" Zayn murmured offering me the cigarette, and I took it between my teeth, sucking in the taste with my cheeks.
I was going crazy since I hadn't smoked all day and was desperate for one to relieve the stress I was feeling. I took a breath too quickly and coughed lightly before giving my brother the cigarette.
"What do you mean? What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? Do you know how fucking awful it feels to have a brother that does the same thing as Harry, but yet you fail to protect me?"
" Juliet."
" No! What happened to it being just us against the world when mom died?" He stayed silent, and I frowned. "It makes no sense how he's protecting me while you sit back and don't do shit."
"By keeping you away from the house and from me and dad, I am helping you." He shouts desperately, " I'm taking care of you Juliet. I will always take care of you."
" God!" I groaned. "After seven years, now you do it?"
"I don't want to find you like I found Mom." He yells
Yeah, and I didn't want to experience it with my own eyes.
"That's not helping."
"It still is, Juliet." Zayn puts his hands on my arms, and I yell at him to get the hell off of me. I don't want him near me. I don't want him to touch me. I was outraged.
"It's not, though,"
"Harry will do a better job than me."
"I don't give a shit about that! I don't trust him."
"Well, he trusts you to take care of his kids. Have a bit of sympathy?"
" God. Harry's not the nicest person I've ever met, so I have no sympathy for him. I don't feel safe around him. I hate him."
Hate was a strong word. But Harty doesn't respect me, so how can I let someone like him near me?
"Juliet, you're just talking out of your ass; Harry's very respectful."
"Do we even have the same Harry in mind?" I sighed, rolling my eyes. My throat felt raw, and I made a quiet sound of helplessness because that's how I felt.
I was so angry at my older brother. I hated how he made me feel. It bothered me that he essentially paid someone to watch over me.
"What are you on, Juliet?" "Jesus," Zayn pinched the bridge of his nose, "Harry is a good guy."
I chuckled and turned my head away, looking into his backyard's shadows. "He has you and everyone else so fooled, doesn't he? Do you know how that makes me feel?" I clenched my teeth, "Fuck—maybe he is nice, maybe he just doesn't like me."
"I simply worry about you."
I blinked, "Okay. I'm fine. I'm always fine. " I muttered. "I was fine when mom died and I'm fine now."
"You weren't fine, Juliet. You stopped talking for God's sake; you failed classes; you smoked so much; you drank. You didn't want to sleep alone; you were miserable, and that's something I never want to see again. I worried a lot. You worried me; it hurt to see you so down; you couldn't even shower without Gwen or Andrea in the bathroom, sitting on the toilet like some guard."
"You don't have to bring that up." I scowled "I know what I went through—but can you blame me? That was terrifying. I'm better now."
"Of course, I can't blame you, but I need you to understand that as your older brother, I'm going to do everything in my power so you never hurt like that again. You were a ray of sunshine before the accident."
I looked down at my feet. "I want you to protect me, not some stranger."
"Are you still upset with me?"
"Zayn, I'm still mad at you; you didn't give me an option. You merely stated that I must do this or else. You used the one thing that hurt me the most against me."
"I'm sorry; I was just trying to keep you safe."
" Okay." I go to walk away, but he stops me.
"Are you simply going to ignore me for the rest of your life?"
"No. Maybe for a few days because I'm still mad."Zayn raised an eyebrow. "I'm serious, so please don't try to be nice to me or show me brotherly affection,"
I turn on my heel and open the sliding doors, the darkness and coldness already taking a toll on me. Leaving the dim backyard and entering the bright room Unexpectedly, Harry's friends had all left, leaving him alone in his living room as he closed a duffel bag. He looks up at me and then at Zayn.
"I'm going to leave; see you later." Zayn turns to face Harry.
"Yeah," Harry uttered, "Drinks on Friday?" Zayn nods, then his stare shifts to me.
"Juliet, take care; all right. I love you." Even though I was furious at Zayn, I couldn't stay silent.
We promised each other that no matter what, we would never say, "I love you," because we would never know our last days on this so-called earth.
"I love you as well," I murmured, turning my head. I was still angry with him, and I wasn't going to give Zayn the satisfaction of winning this argument. "Please get home safely," I still found myself saying.
He nods and begins walking away, Harry close behind. His and Harry's footsteps echoed throughout the house, and I sat waiting for him to return.
I counted down a few minutes before Harry returned to me. I could feel his stare on me, but I couldn't keep my eyes away from the blood on his chest.
" Juliet."
"Is that your blood?"
He looked down at his chest, running a thumb over his body. He flinched, looking back at me.
" No."
"I'm having trouble believing that." I tutted, my gaze lingering on the tattoo of his butterfly in the center, big and beautiful with so many details, showing off his defined body and his muscular biceps.
I get to my feet and reach for an alcohol wipe. "You wouldn't mind if I cleaned it up if it wasn't yours, right?"
Harry looks down at me, his tongue gliding across his plump, pink lips. He adds angrily, "I don't need you to clean things up."
"How were the twins today? What did you guys do?" We were only inches apart, yet I didn't move, my gaze traveled down his body once more. I didn't push him away; instead, I tilted my head to see if it was a cut or someone else's blood.
Finally, my gaze was drawn to his green eyes, which were amused, a smirk on his lips. "Your cut," I enunciate, pointing to his dark cut. Although it didn't appear to need stitches, it still has to be cleaned up.
"It doesn't matter." Harry shrugs, and I tilt my head to look into his eyes. My heart was racing, and I grinned.
"Can I clean it?"
"I told you it was fine."
I pout. "I was up for some role-playing, you know, doctor and patient." He swallowed and took a step closer, now hovering over my body. We were sharing a breath. Harry smelled like cigarettes, smoke, and possibly alcohol and blood, with a hint of coconut. Coconut, no matter what, always flows around me as if it were encasing me in a bubble.
"Watch your mouth."
"I just want to clean your wound," I teased.
"You want to clean my cut?" He tilted his head, his eyes lazily scanning me.
"It can get infected—infections are bad, you know," I swallowed.
"I know," Harry murmured, running his hand through his hair. "As much as I want this role play to happen, Juliet, I have to get up early tomorrow."
" Okay. Here, do it yourself, then; this cream is good; probably one of my favorites as a doctor," I mention, placing alcohol wipes and cream in his hands.
"Okay, how were the girls doing today?"
I take a breather. "They were fantastic; we went to the park, ate lunch, and, oh, we painted." I grin, "The girls were very excited to give it to you, but you arrived a little late, so we played a lot, ate dinner, and then I got them ready for bed."
"I ran into some issues." Harry tosses the items I gave him onto the couch, running his hand through his brown hair.
"Next time, can you call me? I was a little concerned." I crossed my arms over my chest, and look at what I gave him.
"The girls missed you, too"; I keep smiling. "I took some pictures of them at the park for you to see, I'll send them to you."
"Thank you."
I hum. "I'm going to order myself an Uber."
" Juliet." I lifted an eyebrow.
"I need you to do something. Tomorrow could you watch the kids?"
"Harry," I crimped my brows, "How long?"
" Twelve. Then I'll come to pick you up, and we'll go train."
"What are you training for?"
"Again?" he demanded angrily. "Fuckin' hell. The art gallery."
"Oh, right," I sought, "No way in hell am I going to that."
"You don't have much of a choice, Juliet."
That's all I've been thinking about since he told me, especially since whoever sent those messages hasn't been caught. I could be in danger, and visiting an art gallery does not sound like a good idea.
I was fascinated by anything related to art. Paintings, drawings, sculptures—anything that wasn't related to my involvement in the cartel captivated me.
I was terrified. I had no idea what I was doing, what dangers awaited me, or what might occur. I've said it before, and I'll say it again a million times. This life isn't for me.
I was forced into it.
"You haven't told me anything about it, therefore I don't understand how I'm helping. You just told me I had to go yesterday."
"I'll bring it up when I think you're ready."
"When do you think I'm ready? What the hell is that supposed to mean?" I mock.
Harry swallowed. "It means I don't want to argue with you at this time, and I don't feel like explaining myself. Now you wait until I feel like it, is that understood?"
"You treat me like a fucking child, you aren't persuading me at all for someone who needs my help tomorrow."
He gritted his teeth. "Need your help? Do you think I need help raising my daughters?" He chuckles.
"You're simply making things up now; I didn't say that."
"Basically," he bites back at me. I shake my head, turning around. He aggravates me to the point where I find it irritating to look at him.
"No, I know you don't need help raising your daughters. I'm just saying that you're looking for someone to babysit, and you're not talking to me nicely to do that."
"What are you expecting me to do?" He yells, and I recoil, turning to face him. "Fucking go down on my knees and praise you? I'm protecting you, and the least you can do is do me this favor."
"I didn't ask you to protect me!" I shouted, spreading my arms, "Fucking hell! Did I ask that? No! Stop mentioning it."
Harry moves in closer, and I move backward, the back of my knees striking his couch as I do. "Don't touch me," I argue. Before he could put his hands on my jaw as usual,
Harry tipped his head down, his jaw clenched, and his eyes emerged insane. His nose flared up. He was glaring at me with eyes that had a woodsy appearance and were ready to eat me alive at any minute. Ready to criticize me harshly and make me feel horrible about everything I do in my life.
"Can you shut the fuck up?" I continue to bite my tongue and glare at Harry indignantly. "You fuckin' annoy me so much." drives me insane. You never know when to shut up that pretty mouth of yours. You don't have an option here; am I understood?"
" No."
Harry raised an eyebrow, and I grinned, placing my hand on his chest, and pushing him back. "Oh, silly me," leaning up on my tippy toes, my lips hovering over his ear, "I understand, Daddy."
His hands land on my t-shirt as his voice slightly rises. I yanked his hands off and snarled. "No touching" His face reddened, his eyes sparkled with perplexity, and he leaned back on his heel.
Harry stared at me, his head tilting to the right and his tongue darting out, running over his lips. Laughing, he murmured, "Go to bed, princess."
"Hmm," I hum, looking around. "Am I supposed to know where I'm sleeping?"
He arched his brow. "I didn't even receive a full house tour on my first visit. This is huge."
"You won't receive one. Don't get too comfortable; after tomorrow, you're never coming back."
I chewed up "Asshole."
"I've heard that one before." I took the alcohol wipes and cream from the couch and followed Harry.
"You left this here." I groaned. "Just clean it up, please—it'll make the doctor in me feel better." He opens the baby gate and walks up the long stairs, which made my legs hurt by the time we reached the top floor.
"Out of breath already?" He looks over his shoulder, "You truly are useless."
"Oh fuck off." I rolled my eyes, and Harry opened his bedroom door. "There are like a hundred stairs."
"You're being dramatic."
Looking around his room, I will never get over how beautifully decorated, beautiful, and functional it is. I followed him towards the closet, leaning against the wall, as I watched him look into one of the drawers.
"You should invest in an elevator," I muttered.
"It's not a lot of stairs; stop being extra." He snatches a pair of sweatpants and hurls them, along with a t-shirt, my way.
I usually go to bed naked, but since this isn't my home, I guess I'll wear these. I notice him tighten up as I shrug. Harry turns to face me and glances. "Nice room," I smiled. "I thought you would have a gloomy and monotonous room; you truly surprise me, man."
"Do you mind if I clean up your wound?" I groan as Harry walks towards me, laughing. " It's bothering me, and all I can think about is that infection."
"Here," he murmured, handing the items to me. "Show me how good of a doctor you can be."
" Oh?" I grinned, pulling myself onto the bed, and he stood directly in front of me. I needed to sit because his cut was low.
I glance up from my eyelashes to see Harry swallow, his jaw set tight, and his nose flaring.
I tilt my head, ripping the alcohol wipe. "Will you be a good boy for me and stay still?"
I ran the alcohol wipe over his skin while he hummed. He takes a deep breath but doesn't flinch, his biceps flexing beneath me. He runs a hand through my hair, and my lips are tucked under my teeth.
"I knew you were lying." I tut and look up. " Why so flustered?" I tease and inch closer.
And that's when it clicked. "You like the pain, don't you?" He raises an eyebrow, and I run the alcohol across his cut. He takes another sharp breath and glares down at me.
I smile mischievously, pouting. "You like it just as much as me." I wet my lips. "Doesn't surprise me that you have a pain kink."
Grabbing the cream, I gently put some on and stand on my feet. We were just inches apart, sharing a single breath; if he leaned or I learned, our lips would touch and we would kiss.
"Juliet," he swallowed harshly, and I laughed, looking away.
"Maybe one day you can show me the types of pain you like," I tilt my head, "And if you're a good boy, I'll show you what I like."
Harry stares at me, and I smile, tapping his cheek with my hands. "Goodnight, Styles—see you tomorrow."
A/N
Hiii we're getting closer and closer to the art gallery :)) i'm so excited