Wicked Restless

“I’m a Harper. We’re bad seeds,” he chuckles.

“No. You’re not,” I whisper.

“How you see me,” he says against my neck, leaving a soft kiss there before blowing it away. “That’s what matters.”

His hand moves back up to my hair, and he continues the gentle strokes, combing his fingers through my long waves and letting them fall against my bare arm, my body hugged in the soft cotton of one of his shirts.

“Are you going to tell someone?” Andrew asks, and I turn a little, my head shifting to look at him, not sure what he means. I’ll tell the world about you, about how I love you, Andrew. Why wouldn’t I?

“About Graham,” he explains, my gut sinking the second he utters his name. “I know it’s hard, and I know you want to just forget, but he hurt you, Emma. He can’t get away with that.”

“I know,” I say, letting my face fall back to the pillow, away from him.

“I’ll go with you…to tell someone. We can go together,” he says, and I squeeze him again, so thankful for him, but sick knowing I’m going to disappoint him.

“I can’t,” I say, my eyes shuddering to a close as his arm pulls away from me and he pushes himself up to sit next to me. I suck in a long, painful breath, feeling the bruises on my ribs as I do, as if those injuries mock me. I sit up to face Andrew, but never lift my eyes to his. “He’s Dr. Wheaton’s son. She…she’s my mentor, and she was the one who…” I move my fist slowly to my chest, letting my thumb scratch over the space in the middle where my scar resides.

Andrew understands in an instant, breathing in once, sharply. His head bows and he nods. Slowly leaning to the side, he slides his phone from his small night table, then holds it up to me, his lips pursed, his forehead wrinkled with question. “May I?” he asks, pointing to the camera lens. I pinch my brow, but offer a small nod yes. I let my expression fall to nothingness as he clicks a photo of me then lays by my side.

He turns the screen to face us both, sliding his finger over my image, zooming in, the purple around my eye still very much there. I close my eyes remembering the feel of Graham’s hand crashing into me.

“I understand, Em. I swear I do. I just…I thought you needed to see what I see,” he says.

I pull his phone into my hands, zooming the image back out, hoping from farther away the bruise is less noticeable, but it’s not—it’s all I see. I push the small button at the bottom to share the image with me, sending it to myself. Then I move to Andrew’s contacts screen and enter my number, biting my lip as I hand the phone back to him.

“I thought it was about time we exchanged numbers,” I say through a half-hearted laugh. Andrew makes the same sound, pulling his phone in his hands and typing me a message. I read along as he types I LOVE YOU, then slides his phone back onto his table, pulling me into his arms again.

I have him. He’s mine, and I’m his. And we’ve left this wake of destruction, disaster, and remorse all about us to get here, yet I hold onto him tightly feeling somehow justified that it was still all worth everything.

“I don’t want you to fight him,” I exhale, tucking my face into his arms, burying myself into him even more. His body grows rigid—he didn’t realize I knew.

He doesn’t answer, but I feel his chin adjust above my head, his breathing slow, a silent apology.

“I don’t want you to get hurt,” I finally admit, and he holds me tighter, kissing my head, then whispering one more promise in my ear.

“I won’t,” he says. “I can’t walk away, Emma, but I won’t let him hurt me…or you. I swear.”

I nod okay, but stay in my cocoon of his arms, not sure that he can keep this promise. Graham is two different people, and they are both manipulative, each possessing a different kind of charm. And now that I’ve seen both sides, I worry that there’s yet another side I haven’t seen—one that doesn’t live in the rational, human world, and one that holds grudges and seeks revenge at any cost. The thought that Andrew’s exactly that type doesn’t warm my heart either—and I’m afraid when they’re forced together, the destruction will be impossible to come back from.

Chapter 20

Andrew

Well that went about as well as I expected.

I woke up early, leaving Emma a note, then rushed to her apartment before work so I could try and talk with Lindsey. She never unhooked the chain, only opening the door wide enough to gain some distance to slam it closed. I think if my fingers or face had been in the way, she would have used more muscle, too.