Page 93

Harper

It feels like I’m swimming through quicksand. Every time I think I’ve reached the surface, I’m pulled back down. I need to get back, but I can’t remember why. All I know is I feel safe and warm. Like nothing can touch me here.

“Harper, sweetie.” The words are soft and pull at me. “It’s time to wake up.”

I struggle to the surface again, but this time I break through, leaving behind that numbness. All my muscles ache. My eyes struggle to open, feeling like they’re glued shut. A soft hand holds my face. A familiar coconut scent that speaks of safety and warmth and home fills my nose.

“That’s it. Open your eyes.” Mom. That’s my mom’s voice. If Mom is here, then I’m safe. She’ll take care of me.

“What do you need?” Eli? A rush of emotion floods my chest. “What can we get you?”

“Her pulse quickened. I’m hoping all she needs is to hear our voices.”

I’m here. Fuck. Why is this so hard? It’d be easier to sink back into the warmth. It tugs at me with the promise of no pain. Stay a little longer.

“Come on, princess. You’ve slept long enough.”

A hand squeezes mine. Luke.

“I need you.” His words catch fire in my soul.

I gasp in a breath. My eyes open. When I’m able to focus, my mom’s worried face is the first thing I see.

“Mom?” It comes out raspy and broken. My throat aches, and my mouth is so dry. Everything is so dry. Even my eyes are like sandpaper.

“There she is.” Mom sounds so proud of me, just for waking up. “Let’s get her sitting up.”

The warmth beside me fades. Someone moves behind me as another person helps lift me into a sitting position with my back propped against a warm body. I don’t feel right, like my body isn’t under my control. Everything is too heavy. My eyes drift shut again, like even moving was too much for me.

Something touches my lip.

“Take a drink, Harper. It will help,” Mom says.

I pry open my eyes and look down at a glass with a straw. I part my lips and she helps guide the straw into my mouth. It takes more effort than it should, but I manage to swallow a couple of gulps of cold water before she takes it away.

I tilt my head to see who’s holding me. Bright blue eyes filled with worry meet mine. Jack. I try to lift my hand to touch him, but my body doesn’t seem to want to do what I tell it to right now.

How did I get here and what’s going on? Why does my body feel so foreign?

The room is dim, but details start to filter in. The room smells like cinnamon, and all the visual cues tell me we’re in Caden’s room, but it seems wrong because Mom is here, sitting on the edge of the bed next to me. Her fingers are on my wrist, and her head is bent as she looks at her watch.

She’s not supposed to be in this room.

I struggle to shake off the drowsiness that wants to pull me back under. I just woke up, but I’m so tired, like I haven’t slept in ages. It would be so easy to fade back into that dark place. Let it pull me down and keep me safe and numb.

“Let’s get a pain pill in you before the meds from the hospital wear off.” Mom opens a bottle and pours out a pill. “Open.”

I meet her eyes and part my lips. At least, I think I’m opening my mouth. She places the pill on my tongue and then returns the straw. I swallow the pill and some more water. It feels like I’m sinking back into the warmth, the nothingness. I want to stay, but it’s so much easier not to fight it.

“We need you to stay awake, Harper. Can you do that for us?” Mom tips my chin up.

I open my eyes. When did they fall closed again? It’s like this fog clings to me, holding me down, crushing me.

“May I?”

I lift my gaze to Caden’s green eyes. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my mom nod. Then Caden bends and lifts me over his shoulder. His hand steadies me. I don’t have any strength to do anything but hang here.

“She’s fine. She just needs to wake up.” Mom’s voice fades. “I’ll go make us some breakfast.”