Breaking Clear (Full Hearts Series Book 3) (9 page)

Turning her head to thank him, Harper was surprised by how close he was to her. She could feel the heat off his body as she glanced up at him. His arm brushed against her shoulder as he took a drag of his beer. If he kept this up, people were going to get the wrong impression. Or maybe it was the right impression.

A few minutes later, an old Destiny’s Child hit rang out. Harper downed the rest of her drink and yelled, “Let’s go, girls! We need to show these guys just how bootylicious we are!”

They laughed and weaved through the crowd to the dance floor, then gave their best moves, hips swaying, arms in the air, shoulders shimmying, knowing that the guys were watching. After a few songs, they went to the bar to replenish their fluids. Brent teetered over to the group, ordering shots for everyone and snugging up to Harper with a sloppy grin. “You are nothing like the Harper I knew in high school. When did you get so hot?”

“Right around the time I left Boulder.” She laughed, turning to face him.

“So you got bolder when you left Boulder,” he remarked, earning him a light chuckle from Harper.

“You know,” he said moving in, “you look exactly like your mom. She was smokin’ hot.” He planted his hands on her hips, tugging her to him. “Are you wild like her, too?”

Harper’s face turned to ice. She pushed his hands off her and tried to sidestep him but he was too fast, pinning her against the bar with his arms on either side of her. “Hey now, don’t be like that. I’m trying to compliment your hot ass. You should say thank you.”

“Fuck off, Brent,” she spat out, pushing at him without any success. He was the human equivalent of a bulldog—short, stocky, solid muscle.

“Don’t be like that, baby. I know you want it. You come from a line of women who like to get nasty.” The stench of his breath and his words made Harper’s stomach lurch as she arched her back over the bar to get away from him.

“Get the hell off—” Harper’s words were cut short as she witnessed Brent’s arms suddenly being lifted and pinned straight above his head.

Evan was standing behind the bulldog and had looped his arms in front of Brent’s, then pulled up while grabbing the back of Brent’s head. The effect was immediate, leaving Brent flailing and immobilizing his upper body. Evan tugged him away from Harper. “You’re way out of line, Brent. Go sleep it off.”

Brent struggled a minute before giving up. When he finally relaxed, Evan let him go. Instead of walking away, Brent rounded on Evan and tried to punch him in the jaw. Evan grabbed his fist and held it, squeezing his knuckles as he gave Brent a sharp jab to the gut. “I said go sleep it off. I’m not going to tell you again.”

Four bouncers descended, grabbing both men and dragging them out of the bar. Harper was quickly surrounded by her old friends. They were all talking at once, and a mixture of indignant rage and sympathy on her behalf flooded over her. She pushed past them, offering a distracted reassurance that she was fine. She needed to get out of there. The hot air felt like it might choke her, and she wanted to get to Evan before he left.

She hurried to the door, a chill running down her spine as Brent’s words played over in her mind. Once outside, she stayed behind the bouncers in case Brent was still there. Evan stood dead still while Brent took off down the sidewalk, turning back with his eye already beginning to swell shut. Evan’s bottom lip was bleeding and starting to puff up.

Harper rushed over to him. “Oh my God, Evan. Are you alright?”

“Fine. He just wouldn’t let it go.” Evan looked down at her, his expression changing from rage to concern in an instant. “You okay? I caught the tail end of what he said to you. Fucking asshole.”

“I’m fine,” Harper answered, reaching into her purse to get a tissue. She held it up to Evan’s lip, gently dabbing the blood. “Don’t worry about it. I’d never let someone like him bother me,” she scoffed, ignoring the lump now taking hold in her throat.

Evan’s voice came out gentle as he lifted his hand to hers. “You don’t have to pretend you’re okay when you aren’t, Harper.”

Something about his words and the concern in his eyes caused Harper’s shield to dissolve. She blinked quickly at the dark sky, wrestling with the tears that now demanded to fall.

Evan wrapped his arms around her, pulling her in. “He shouldn’t have said that to you. No way should you have to account for what your mother did twenty years ago. It’s no reflection on you or the rest of your family.”

Harper nodded into his thick chest, feeling safe. “It just took me by surprise. I was having so much fun that I guess I let my guard down. Anywhere but here, nobody knows, so I can pretend it never happened. I should know better than to hope people around here would have forgotten.”

“Most people have, Harper. When they talk about you, it’s because you’re a high-powered fashion executive in New York. Don’t let him get to you. He was just pissed because he knows you’re too good for him.” Evan pressed his cheek to her hair, holding her close.

Torn between wanting to stay locked in the warmth of his arms and feeling angry at herself for letting Brent get the best of her, she drew in a deep breath. “Thank you, Evan,” she whispered into his shoulder. “I should go,” she said, pulling away.

“Let me drive you home. I’ll bring you back for your truck tomorrow. I don’t want you to be alone right now.”

*     *     *

Evan stepped into the shower, finally noticing the tightly wound balls of tension that had fixed themselves in his neck and shoulders. He cranked the temperature up as high as it would go, hoping it would relax him. Harper’s face planted itself in his brain. She had looked so sad, so hurt, so beautiful. Rage coursed through him when he thought of that fuck, Brent. Evan knew he had a mean streak in him and had considered warning her but decided to keep an eye on them instead, not wanting to sound jealous. Now he was wishing he’d let himself look like a fool rather than let her be taken by surprise. “Goddammit!” he let out.

At least he’d managed to put a halt to things when he did. But he hated like hell that she’d been humiliated by the past yet again. No wonder she stayed away. Tonight he’d seen a glimpse of the pain she held onto, but as quickly as it had reared its head, she’d cut it off, throwing up that wall of sarcasm and sass she shielded herself with. He wanted her to let him behind that wall. He understood what it was like to feel the sting of public humiliation, and he could help her heal if she’d only let him.

*     *     *

Harper lay in bed that night unable to sleep. The events of the day and evening swirled around her, bringing a wave of emotions so strong she felt as though she were being dragged under. She tried to focus on the excitement of the day, the success of helping Megan, but the smell of Brent and the sound of his words kept creeping back in, crowding out anything good. She’d taken a long, hot bath, hoping to unwind and forget about him, but it hadn’t worked. As long as she was in Boulder, she was going to have to keep her guard up. She’d need to be ready for people like him who took pleasure in her family’s misery. It was entertainment of the lowest form, but for some reason, many people seemed to revel in it.

And then Evan’s face popped into her mind. His ice-blue eyes shining with warmth for her. His strong arms wrapped around her, his delicious smell as he held her near. His gentle words. Somehow this was the image that brought her to the surface again. Now she could breathe. Because of him. Her mind drifted to that moment at her front door when he’d said good night.

She’d smiled at him, hoping to seem completely confident. “Go put some ice on that lip, Donovan, or you won’t be in any shape to kiss that long line of ladies waiting for you.”

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Evan’s eyes bored into hers.

“Are you still talking about that? That is long over.” She gave him a wink.

“I’ll come get you tomorrow morning.”

“Only if you have time. I can always take a cab.”

“I’ll have time.” He started to leave, then turned back. “Harper, about that kiss the other night . . .”

“Oh, that. I know you were just trying to make me feel better.” She shrugged. “You’re going to have to stop rescuing me like this. You’ll turn me into a damsel in distress, and there’s nothing I hate more.”

He planted his hand on her cheek, carefully placing his thumb over her lips to stop her from talking. “I was going to say I can’t stop thinking about it. As soon as my lip heals, I’m hoping we can do that again.”

He turned and strode away as her knees turned to jelly.

Harper walked into her dad’s hospital room after knocking lightly on his door. The room was darkened by drawn curtains for the fifth day in a row. She tried to hide the dread she was feeling as her eyes adjusted to the dimness.

“Dad, you up?” she whispered.

“Yes.”

Harper crossed the room to the window. “It’s a beautiful day. Let’s let some light in here.” She reached for the window but his voice stopped her.

“Just leave it. I don’t feel like looking outside.” He spoke quietly, never taking his eyes off the blankets covering his legs. His gaze held such intensity it was as though he could force his lower limbs to work just by staring at them long enough.

“Alright. I brought you coffee and oatmeal.” She walked over to his bed and flipped on a low light.

“No, thanks. I’m not hungry this morning.” His voice was a monotone, as though speaking had become too much effort.

A knock at the door was quickly followed by the entrance of a doctor. “Good morning, Roy. I’m Dr. Smyth. I’ll be taking over your care,” he said with a confident smile. He appeared to be in his late thirties and was tall and handsome, with boyish good looks and an athletic build. He was the type of man she would have given a second look if Evan hadn’t been in her brain, blocking her vision.

Roy gave him a little nod. “Okay.”

“Hi, Dr. Smyth. I’m Harper, Roy’s daughter.” She held out her hand to him.

“Nice to meet you.” He reached out to shake her hand, his eyes staying on her a beat longer than they should have.

Dr. Smyth glanced down at his clipboard. “So, Roy, I’ve been reading over your file. Says here that you have full use of your upper body but we’re still waiting for your lower body to come around.”

“Yup.”

“Well, it’s still early but I imagine this must be tough on you. The waiting. How’s the pain management going?”

“Fine.”

“Good. Well, that’s something.” Dr. Smyth made a note on the chart. “Should we open the curtains? It’s a bit gloomy in here.”

“Nope. Suits me just fine.”

Dr. Smyth tilted his head toward Harper, giving her a concerned look. “Roy, I’d like to bring someone in to talk with you about how you’re feeling. A psychologist. It’s very common for people to start feeling depressed in your situation.”

“No, thanks. Not interested.”

“That’s the thing about depression. It makes it hard to be interested in anything. Her name is Dr. Chan. She can help.”

“No. Thank. You,” Roy barked, glaring at the doctor.

“Take some time to think about it. You can let me know tomorrow.”

“Already did.”

“I have to finish my rounds but we’re going to take you downstairs for a few tests later.”

Roy nodded and Dr. Smyth turned to Harper. “Could I see you outside for a moment? I need to go over some forms with you.”

The bright light of the hallway streamed into the room as they walked out, leaving Roy alone again.

Dr. Smyth turned to her. “I’ve been talking with Sadie, the head nurse. We have concerns about your father’s mental condition.”

Harper nodded, unable to speak without her voice breaking.

“We can’t force him to talk to a psychologist but I think we should try to get someone in there as soon as possible. I can prescribe antidepressants, but of course he’d have to agree to that.”

“Alright.”

“I just want to reassure you that this is completely expected in his situation. At the same time, we don’t want to let him slip too far, so if you know of a way to convince him to get help, please do so.”

“I will.”

Harper walked back into her dad’s room. Through the darkness, she could see that his eyes were now closed. “Go away.”

“It’s me, Dad.”

“I know that. It’s better if you just go. I’m not fit to be around anyone. I’m in a shitty mood and I’m just going to say something I don’t mean.”

Harper sat in the chair next to him. “Then we don’t have to say anything. I’ll just sit here with you and we can feel shitty together.” She took his hand and held it until the orderly came in to get him.

“I’ll be back tomorrow. We can talk or we can just sit. But I’ll be here.” She gave him a kiss on the forehead.

*     *     *

Late that afternoon, Harper sat out on the small deck in her dad’s backyard. Closing her eyes, she tried to drink in the warmth of the Colorado sun and breathe in the fresh air and quiet. But instead of finding the escape she sought, she felt miserable. She thought of her dad, lying in the hospital bed, unable to move. Her heart dropped at the thought of what his life would become if he ended up confined to a wheelchair. The man who could never sit still for long, who always had some ongoing wood-working project in his shop. She thought of how quiet he’d grown in the days since his accident. And there was nothing she could do for him. She couldn’t fix it. So far she could only bring him oatmeal and try to cheer him up. And what would the future bring him? Or her, for that matter? She’d lost her job, the one thing that made her who she was.

Tears of frustration and fear streamed down her cheeks and for once, she didn’t stop them. Tears for her dad eventually turned into tears for herself. She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t belong in Boulder and hadn’t for many years. Her entire adult life she had been Harper Young, fashion insider, and she couldn’t be that here. She finally straightened her slumped shoulders, resolving to keep her chin up, help her dad and then get the hell back to Manhattan the moment he was well again.

Going back inside, Harper was determined to feel better. She took a long shower then made herself up, complete with smoky eyes and light pink high-gloss lips. She swept her hair into a messy updo and stood staring at the clothes in her closet. Her eyes fell on the two ball gowns she’d allowed herself to keep. Reaching out, her fingers grazed the black, strapless Carolina Herrera gown with delicate embroidered daisies and full skirt. Why not? No one was here and it would make her feel better to completely glam it up. She made herself a small fruit plate, carefully arranging grapes, melon and strawberries in a pleasing way before grabbing a bottle of wine, a glass, a napkin and her tablet. Checking the time, she realized it would be hours before Evan was home from work. She could sit outside and no one would see her. Making her way out to the deck, she seated herself carefully so as not to crease her dress. She was going to eat and drink and pretend she was anywhere but here. Somewhere glamorous and happy.