A Need So Beautiful (A Need So Beautiful #1)(15)

“Damn,” Harlin says, putting his arms tenderly around me. “What were you doing out there? I’m gonna buy you an ankle monitoring bracelet.”

I laugh.

“You’re free to go,” Monroe announces in a choked voice. He stares as if asking me to stay, but I can’t. I’m overwhelmed and confused. I just want to leave with Harlin.

I don’t talk as Monroe robotically recites stitch care instructions, and instead I just rest against Harlin. My mind is turning over Monroe’s words, trying to understand why he called the spot beautiful. Why he didn’t seem surprised or freaked out when he saw it.

When Monroe’s done talking I turn in Harlin’s arms, my body completely exhausted. “I’m starving,” I say. “Can we go grab something to eat?”

He sighs, like it’s the last thing he feels like doing. “It’s after ten.” When I bat my eyelashes, he laughs. “Fine, we’ll go to Sid’s. I think they’re still open.”

“Thanks, honey,” I say.

“Don’t pull out the ‘honey.’ That doesn’t work on me.”

“The eyelashes did.”

He squeezes me and nuzzles his face into my neck. “I’m glad you’re okay,” he whispers against me, and I feel the playfulness slip away. My worry grows. Could Harlin love me if he knew what was wrong with me?

There’s a sound of riffling papers and I look up to see Monroe holding sheets out to us. “Instructions,” he says. “Call me if there are any new . . . developments.”

I nod before taking Harlin’s hand and turning toward the door. Just before we leave, I glance back at Monroe and he’s watching me, his skin pale like he’s just seen a ghost.

Chapter 6

I can’t eat. Harlin’s talking about how he’d driven all over the city looking for me, and I’m holding a greasy slice of cheese pizza, but I’m not listening. I’m staring out the window at the blinking Gold’s Gym sign, only the ’s is out, so it says: Gold. Gold. Gold.

I turn my head from side to side, trying to loosen the muscles in my neck. The Vicodin has made sounds echo in my ears and I’m starting to feel sleepy. I glance across the booth at Harlin and he’s still talking, using his hands to accentuate how frantic he was during the search. And I smile because right now I have no Need. Just him.

“Hey,” I whisper. He pauses, his eyes bloodshot, his mouth open. I just stare at him until he laughs and leans back in his seat, shaking his head.

“You’re a handful, you know that, right? You make me completely crazy.”

“I know,” I say, and take a bite of pizza. “I make myself crazy.”

“I’m not gonna just let this slide, Charlotte. Not this time. You have to tell me where you were going tonight.”

I reach up to touch at my stitches, no idea how to answer. Sometimes I think it’d be worth losing him, just so I didn’t have to worry about losing him. But I know I can’t live without Harlin. I meet his eyes.

“I was checking out an old warehouse on Broadway,” I say. “I saw the flyer in Plato’s and I heard they were remodeling the building.”

“What does that have to do with you?”

“Nothing. I . . . I thought maybe it’d be something you’d want to be involved with. Some original artwork for the lobby or something?”

Harlin looks me over like he’s trying to decide if I’m telling the truth. “You don’t mention anything to me? You just sneak out?”

“That was stupid. I’m sorry.”

“Sorry,” he repeats calmly. “I spent the night looking for you, completely freaking out. But you’re sorry. That’s nice, Charlotte.” He goes back to eating his pizza, no longer looking at me.

I’m so tired that I feel like I could just confess everything to him. The nights I’ve been out. The things I’ve seen. The people I’ve saved.

Harlin’s face is hard, but then he looks me over and his eyes weaken. It’s like he just remembered I’m injured.

“Damn,” he says. “I’m an ass.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I am. I’m sorry.”

I know that I’m the one who should be apologizing, but I take a bite of pizza instead. I just want to forget about today.

“How’s your head?” Harlin asks, the softness of his voice making me melt a little.

“Hurty.”

“And your legs?”

I smile. “Bruisy.”

Harlin’s foot touches mine, and heat shoots up my leg. I’d forgotten what we were doing just before I’d left his apartment. I bite my bottom lip and narrow my eyes. I want him. He reacts, taking in a breath, and then blows it out with frustration.

“Completely crazy,” he says with a laugh. “And we’re not . . .” He motions to my body, then groans longingly. “Not when you have stitches in your head.”

“I’ll have them for, like, two weeks.”

He freezes, looks around the pizza place and then back to me. “Two weeks?”

“Uh-huh.”

“All right, Charlotte,” he orders, nodding toward my food. “Hurry up with that pizza. I’m not going home until I finish kissing you.”