I could practically make it with my eyes shut, which at least is comforting that I don’t have to stare at GPS and worry about missing the turn. I’m on autopilot driving home.
“I’m bored,” Zeke proclaims rather loudly.
“Do you want to count all the different color cars we see?” Bristol asks.
I glance in my rearview mirror and Zeke nods excitedly.
Ashton, Liam, and I miss hockey practice. We text coach to tell him that all three of us came down with the stomach flu after eating bad sushi over the weekend, which seems to satisfy him when he texts back for us to feel better.
We spend the evening chilling out, playing video games, and ordering pizza for dinner. No one is up to hiking over to the dining hall to get dinner, which is fine with me. I’d rather kick my feet up and relax.
Zeke makes a massive mess of his pizza and Harper gets him cleaned up with a bath before she tucks him into bed. I kiss the little guy goodnight and grab Harper’s hand as we head out of his bedroom, wanting a few minutes alone with her, before we retire for the night.
It’s nowhere near bedtime for us, but we’ve spent most of the evening with our housemates, and I imagine if it were up to her, she’d go right back on the couch with them.
She’s been avoiding me.
Maybe it’s not on purpose, but it certainly feels that way.
“Can we talk?” I squeeze her hand and tug her toward our bedroom.
She emits a heavy sigh and nods. “We’ll be back in a few, guys. Someone can take my turn,” she says in regard to the video game.
They’ve already skipped her turn once, while Zeke was in the bath. Technically, I took Harper’s turn as we kept rotating players in and out so that everyone can play.
She follows me into the bedroom and closes the door behind us. I can already feel the tension mounting. She drops my hand, folds her arms across her chest, and raises an eyebrow.
Her stance tells me she’s pissed and I better be quick.
“Are we going to talk about the pregnancy?” I ask, gesturing at her abdomen.
Harper rolls her eyes and takes a step back, bumping into the door. “Do we really have to do this now?” She’s avoiding looking at me and swipes her tongue across her lips. Her gaze is anywhere but on me.
“We have to do this sometime,” I say. “And we should have an actual doctor examine you.”
“No!” Harper’s eyes widen and she finally meets my stare.
“After what you went through?—”
She cuts me off. “Precisely! I’m not ready for that, Luca. I need time.” She pushes past me and paces the length of our bedroom. “No one is touching me!”
“Okay.” I run a hand through my hair and take a step back, leaning against the dresser. “It would be good for you to talk to someone about what happened.”
Her dark laughs startles me.
“You want me to tell a therapist how I work for the mafia?” She stares at me seriously, not the least bit amused by my suggestion.
“I’m sure my father has a therapist available who is well-aware of his business dealings and knows not only how to be discreet, but keep confidentiality.”
“I’m not talking to a therapist. I’m not crazy!” Harper glares at me.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “I never called you crazy. You were kidnapped, Harper. Talking to someone, anyone, it would probably be a good idea. It might even help.”
She adverts her gaze, avoiding my stare and stops pacing. “I’m not broken.” Her words are barely audible, hardly above a whisper.
They break my heart.
“I promise, I never thought you were,” I say. Slowly, I reach out for her, wanting her to tell me if she doesn’t want me to touch her, but those words never come.
