A Brush with Love(82)

Dan stared at her, the anger draining from his face, leaving nothing but fractured sadness across his features. She wanted to cry. She wanted to snatch the words out of the air and cram them back down her throat. She wanted to choke on them.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” she whispered, her fingers knotting together in her lap.

“You aren’t wrong,” Dan said, running his hands through his hair. He wouldn’t look at her. “I am fucked up. I carry around so much guilt, I sometimes think my spine will snap from the weight of it. I’ll suffocate under it. But I’m also willing to work on it. Are you willing to work on yours?” he said, fixing her with a raw stare. “Because, I’m not sure it’s good for us to be together if you’re not.”

“What are you saying?” Harper’s throat seemed to close around every syllable as she forced the words out.

“I’m saying I want to be with you, but not in an unhealthy way. I’ve had enough damaged relationships in my life. I don’t want this to be another.”

Harper shook her head, tears streaming down her face. “I can’t do this. I’ve told you from the start—I don’t want this.”

“Bullshit. You’re scared. You’re scared because this feels more real than the safe little life you imagined for yourself.”

He stood, pacing the small length of floor along her hospital bed, before turning on her.

“Being together wasn’t part of your precious plan. So what? The world won’t end just because your plan changes. We could make a new plan. Together. You don’t have to be perfect, Harper.” He grabbed her hand, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles as he spoke. “But you deserve to be happy. You deserve to live without this pain pressing on you.”

Sharp tears pricked at Harper’s eyes. It would be so nice if her mind would let her trust that—let her break out of this constant cycle of doubt. But she couldn’t. She felt betrayed. She felt humiliated. She felt so many awful things at once, she thought she’d be ripped in half by the strength of them.

“I think you should go,” she said, pulling her hand away, tugging at her hair.

“Let me take you home,” he said quietly. “We can talk this out.”

Harper shook her head, staring fixedly at the peaks and valleys on the EKG next to her. “I can’t have you take me home.”

“Why?”

She took a shuddering breath, tears brimming over her eyes. “Because if you do, I’ll invite you up.”

“Would that be the worst thing in the world?” Dan asked softly.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because then I would have to let you in.”

The hurt radiating from Dan’s body was almost palpable, her skin absorbing every wave of it like a punch to the gut.

All was silent for a few minutes before she spoke again. “You need to leave.”

“Harper, I—”

“Go! Fucking go!” she yelled, looking at him with rage and hurt and confusion. “I don’t want you here. You’re the last thing I need.”

“Trust me,” Dan said, staring at her for a moment longer, raw and vulnerable, before fixing his features into an emotionless mask. “I’m done.” He turned on his heel and left the room.

Harper waited a full minute, kept everything under control for sixty whole seconds, before she broke.

She balled her hands in her hair, sobs ripping from her throat. She grabbed a pillow, biting into it as she cried.

She allowed herself

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

seconds of tears

Six

Seven

Eight

moments of rocking back and forth to the pulsing pain in her head. In her chest.

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

instances of wanting to be held, of wanting to let go of control.

Then she gritted her teeth, wiped her eyes, and waited calmly for her discharge papers.

It wasn’t until she got home, sitting on the edge of her lonely bed, that she noticed the list of psychiatrists attached to the forms.





CHAPTER 33





DAN

Dan walked around the city aimlessly. He didn’t know where to go, what to do. The words “You’re the last thing I need” propelled each step forward until hours had passed.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, causing his heart to jolt in his chest, pathetically hoping it was Harper. He accepted the call so quickly, he didn’t read the caller ID until it was too late.

And he was officially on a call with his mom.

Cursing under his breath, he brought the phone up to his ear.

“Hi, Mom.”

There was a pause on the line, and Dan knew it was for dramatic effect.

“Daniyal?” his mom said. “You’re alive, habibi?” While the endearment was a nice touch, there was no masking the sharpness in her words.

Dan let out a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. “For the most part,” he said.

“And your phone? It works?”

“It seems to.”

She clucked her tongue. “Then I must need to take my phone in for a repair.”

Dan decided to humor her. “Why’s that?”