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CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nico
We head back to the car, and I drop Ezra at the shop and Sawyer at the gym before Harlow and I set off for her visit. I have so much studying I could be doing today, but I’ll take any chance to spend more time with Harlow, especially if it makes her this happy. She’s practically vibrating in her seat.
“You’re excited,” I say, taking in her happy glow.
“Yeah,” she agrees, and her grin somehow grows even bigger. She’s so fucking beautiful.
“How long’s it been since you saw them?”
“A month or so.” That surprises me—it doesn’t seem like an overly long time.
“I know what you’re thinking,” she says. “That’s not a long time.”
That is exactly what I’m thinking, but I shrug. “Depends, I guess.”
“On?”
“Whether you like your parents. Or your friends’ parents.”
“Do you like yours?” she asks, turning to face me in her seat.
“Weren’t we talking about you?” I can’t give her my undivided attention, with having to watch the road, but she’s giving me hers.
“I’m not so interesting,” she says.
“I beg to differ.” I can feel her eyes on me, searching for something.
“I do like them... myfriend’sparents. They practically brought me up. Their house was my safe space, my escape.” Escape from what? I don’t want her to feel like I’m interrogating her and close down, so I try to ease in to getting more details.
“Why don’t you see them more now?” She takes a moment before she answers, and it’s a careful response.
“Callen doesn’t like to see people sometimes.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ll see.” That seems like the end of that avenue, so I try another one.
“How often do you see your own parents?” I know I’m prying, but I want to know everything about her. She chuckles, but there’s no humor in it, and she silently turns back in her seat to face the front. Wrong avenue.
“I’m gonna need to be a lot less sober to have that conversation.”
“But we will have it?” I ask, grasping on to the fact that she’s not shutting me down because she doesn’t trust me with the information, just that it might be hard for her to give it.
“Yeah. When you’re ready to feel depressed, let me know.”
“Okay.” And I know I will. I’m desperate for any scrap of Harlow, past or present. She’s lost in thought for a moment before turning back to me.
“Are we talking about you now?” she asks.
“What do you want to know?” Fair is fair, but it seems Harlow is over the deep confessions.
“What’s your favorite car karaoke song?” That makes me laugh, and I tell her and spend the rest of the journey being entertained by her enthusiastic renditions.
We finally pull up to their house, and I know why Sawyer didn’t want her to come here alone. We’re in prime Guard territory, and even being here in broad daylight makes me edgy. Harlow doesn’t seem to be affected, though, jumping out of the car and running to the door. She knocks lighter than her pent-up excitement suggests, and I’ve just caught up to her when the door opens and she throws herself at the small woman inside.
“Pearl,” she squeals, holding the woman tightly.
