A Want So Wicked (A Need So Beautiful #2)(50)

My father walks to the sink and runs a clean towel under the water. When he comes back he begins to clean Harlin’s arm, and Lucy enters with the first-aid kit.

“Do you want a couple of aspirin?” I ask, feeling helpless that I’m not doing anything.

“No, I don’t mind the pain,” Harlin says, and then flinches when my father gets to the cut.

“Get him the ibuprofen,” my father says. “I think you could have probably used a stitch or two,” he tells Harlin. “But a bandage might work now.”

I go to the cupboard and pull out the medicine, Lucy standing against the counter watching silently. My fingers are shaking as I undo the cap, and then I pour a glass of water, bringing both over to Harlin.

“Thank you,” he says in that tender way of his. I take a seat next to him as I clean the dirt and blood off his jacket with a damp paper towel.

“Is there anyone I should call?” my father asks him, beginning to wrap his arm in white gauze. “Where are you staying?”

“I’m out here alone,” he says. “I was at the Sunset Motel on Route Five, but I had to use the money I had left to take my bike to the shop. I’ll wait until morning and get my brother to wire me some funds.”

My father pauses to look up. “How did you get here tonight? Did you hitchhike?”

Harlin nods and then swallows the pills I gave him, maybe wanting them more than he admitted. When my father’s done, Harlin twists his arm to check his bandage and then thanks my father.

“Elise,” my father says after washing his hands. “Can I speak with you in the living room for a minute?” He doesn’t wait for an answer as he leaves.

“Uh . . . sure,” I call after my dad. Harlin mouths Sorry, as if he did something wrong, and I put my hand on his shoulder as I pass him. When I get into the living room, I find my father pacing in front of the sofa.

“What am I supposed to do?” he whispers the minute I’m close.

“Excuse me?”

“He doesn’t have a place to stay, Elise. It’s dark outside and he’s hitchhiking. Even if I paid for it, I’m not sure letting him stay in a rundown motel is the best option here.”

“Dad, I have no idea what you’re getting at.”

“You’re not going to ask me if he can stay the night?” My father crosses his arms over his chest.

“I wasn’t. But now that you mention it . . .”

“You hadn’t even thought of it until I brought it up, did you?”

“Nope, but it is a fantastic idea. And very Christian of you.”

My father rubs his face before glancing around the living room, then toward the bedrooms. “I’m assuming from the porch that the two of you made up?”

“Mostly,” I say with a smile.

“Harlin can stay on the couch,” he says. “And I’d better not wake up and find him in your room, Elise. Or his motorcycle accident will look mild in comparison. I’m not running a dating service.”

“Gross.”

“Be quiet. Now find him some clean clothes, and I’ll show him where the bathroom is so he can take a shower. After that get some extra blankets out of the linen closet.” He pauses, looking me over. “I trust you,” he says.

“Thanks, Dad.” I give him a quick hug, closing my eyes as I think about how I’ve been lying to him. And I hope that someday things can go back to the way they were. Or at least, how I remember them.

CHAPTER 22

Harlin glances at the sofa and then back at me. He’s been scrubbed clean and rebandaged, his hair wet and brushed to the side, making him look incredibly sexy. He’s wearing his own T-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts that Lucy found in her room. We didn’t ask who they’d once belonged to.

“Are you sure this is okay?” he asks. “I mean, did your dad really invite the handsome stranger who’s dating his daughter to sleep on the couch?”

“I like how you added in the ‘handsome.’”

“Thanks.”

“And yes. My dad is cool like that, plus he thinks you’re a lost soul in need of saving. He’s not really that far off there.” Harlin nods as if he agrees and I drop the blankets onto the arm of the sofa.

My father turns on the light in the hallway, keeping the living room extra bright before closing his door halfway. Lucy has gone to her room, leaving Harlin and me alone.

I take his cleaned jacket from the chair when he asks to see it. He holds it up, inspecting the rips and tears, cursing under his breath. He quickly apologizes, setting it on the back of the couch, and asks me to join him.

I do, but the minute I’m next to him, my heart speeds up. We have so much to talk about; I’m not even sure where to start. So I begin with the obvious.

“Why did you run away at Marceline’s?”

Harlin lowers his head. “Because it hurt. Hearing about Charlotte—about you—hurt me. But I shouldn’t have left. I’m sorry.”

“We had a life together,” I say, as if it’s a fact of our past and not something I long for.

Harlin pauses. “Yeah.”

“Were we happy?”

He looks over at me. “When you weren’t hiding things from me? Deliriously happy.”