Wicked Restless (Harper Boys #2)(124)

“I like this Harper,” I say, pulling my legs up onto his bed with me so I can lie next to him and snuggle in closer. Andrew leans his foot to the side, tapping his toe into the tip of my shoe. It makes me giggle.

“You always did have a thing for my shoes,” he jokes.

I shove him lightly, then bury my face against his arm.

“Not true,” I say, bringing my eyes to his, blushing and glancing to the side of his face. “It’s the holes in your ears. I told you I liked them.”

He laughs, moving his hand up to feel the small plastic circle tucked in his ear. The hospital took the metal gauges out, so Owen brought him new ones.

“Yeah, I’m a pretty sexy beast,” he says, laughing and immediately wincing from the pain.

The chatter outside his door starts to build, and I know our time alone is done. There’s so much I want to say, so many kisses I need to give and embraces that I need to savor. But I guess I have time now. Andrew Harper was a gift, a friend when I was scared and alone, a savior when I almost lost everything, and the love of my life that I got lucky enough to find a second time. He’s all mine. And I’m his. And I am never letting go again.

His room fills with his family and Trent, Owen quickly putting a phone in his hand so he can talk to Kensi. Andrew tends to them all, hugging and talking and smiling for them—giving them light and hope—giving them the good parts. But he never lets go of my hand. And just when I think he’s losing his grip, starting to move his attention from me to the other amazing and deserving people in his life, he turns my hand to the side, smoothing it flat and writing in it a letter at a time.

FOR ALWAYS.





Epilogue





Christmas Day



Andrew



Emma said I didn’t need to bring a gift, but it felt wrong. The last time I was at her father’s house, I noticed it was dark. That’s half the reason we all used to pretend that house was haunted. When a home is built around the turn of the last century, the lighting is a little old.

It isn’t much, but I carry the wrapped box in my arms, hoping her father will let me install the light in the foyer later today. I think it will make him happy—to have a little brightness in his house.

I know part of the reason I need a gift, though, is because of my nerves. I’m still consumed with wanting her father to like me. I’ve spent five years not giving a shit about others’ opinions of me. Part of my own shelter, I just always assumed most people thought I was an *, so when they didn’t, I was pleasantly surprised.

But Carl Burke—I care about his opinion. I care about his daughter, and that’s the only reason I care about anything at all.

“Relax, he cooked all day, and he wanted you here,” Emma says, dusting snowflakes from my arm. I wore the only nice jacket I have—it’s black and wool…and hot as f*ck!

I hold my arm out for her to take as we walk up the main path to the house. I’m driving a twenty-year-old Volvo. It’s fast, and it sure as hell won’t ever break. But it’s not my Camaro.

When I got out of the hospital, my mom gave me a letter with a check inside. She said the man who delivered it was young, maybe mid-twenties, with blonde hair and a strong build. He told her he was from H and Sons, and they were handling the settlement from the insurance claim. But I know there was no claim, and I know it was just Harley’s way of making sure the universe was right between us.

I always told you I take care of my business. Seems there were a few people who were bad for business, and I wanted you to know, they won’t be seeking you out anymore either. I’m sorry about your car; she was a beauty. This probably won’t even come close to getting you in that kind of ride, but…I thought you deserved your money back. I never wanted a dime from you. You can’t work for me anymore; I think you understand why. But, I’d be happy to give you a reference if you want to apply for a gym—a real gym, in the city. I know a guy who knows a guy, so maybe give this number a call.

Glad to see you back on your feet.



H



My savings was just enough to buy a piece-of-shit from the auction, and Owen helped me tune it up a little before he left again for Germany. His season over there started a few weeks ago now, so I hope by the time he comes back, I can afford a Camaro again.

We spent the morning at my parents’ house. Dwayne hooked me up with new gear and skates. Maybe I can break them in this winter so I can find my way back to the ice with the rest of the team. Coach was able to work my scholarship out with the financial aid department, diverting my money to next season since I was given a medical withdrawal from most of my classes this semester. I asked to take my finals anyhow, knowing I could pass, but they were rather insistent. Emma has about seven million years of school left, so I’m in no rush to leave.

My life took one enormous hiccup—everything about it thrown in all directions—yet somehow, when the dust settled, things looked brighter. I only hope that trend continues for one more hour, or at least through the second Carl opens the door and welcomes me inside.

“He knows I’m coming, right?” I ask Emma, my free hand now deeply rooted in my pocket, my other clutching my poorly wrapped box like a teddy bear.

“My god, Andrew. For such a bad-ass, you’re pretty wussy right now,” she laughs.