Marry Screw Kill(19)

James turns on his blinker and I follow suit. I look to the right and see a tall white fence with large brick posts every few feet. From what Harlow described, this has to be their place. She was right; it does look like a fortress.

A few feet later, James makes a turn into a driveway and a large metal gate opens up. I can’t see the house too well in the distance, but even in the shadows, it appears to be gigantic. We proceed farther until we’re at a circle drive in front of a sprawling brick home that could be mistaken for a mini-hotel

Anxious to see if Harlow is okay, I park behind him, jump out of my car, and walk up to the Mercedes.

She staggers out of the car with messed up hair and her clothing askew, clutching what looks like her white bra. She stuffs the bra inside her bag, leans against the car to take off her heels, and walks barefoot toward the front door, turning her head to stare at me. Her eyes are sad, desperate. I want to rush to her and pull her into my arms, but I can’t. Instead, I try to tell her I’m sorry for how James is treating her with my eyes. She turns away from me and the moment is gone.

James comes to stand by my side and throws his arm over my shoulder. I tighten my fists a little more.

“Girl’s got quite the mouth on her.” He chuckles at his dirty joke. It takes everything I have not to pummel him to the ground and defend Harlow’s honor from his cheap comment. My uncle is a sick f*cking bastard. “Grab your suitcase, Sinclair.”

He releases my shoulder and strolls away. I close my eyes and wonder what the hell happened tonight.

All I wanted was to come to Rochester for a quick four-week program, then head back to the city and start med school July first. Seemed simple to me.

But as James stands by the open door waiting for me, I feel like there’s another reason I’m here. Goddammit.





Chapter Ten


Harlow



The car stereo plays a sultry jazz melody as we hit the dark outskirts of Rochester. James hasn’t spoken a word to me since we left the restaurant and my anxiety builds with each passing minute of silence. What he saw—what he believes he saw—between Sin and me, has left him fuming.

His mood pushes me farther away from him as I lean hard against the car window. I’m praying he calms down, but his tense, drawn face says otherwise. I wish I were a braver soul and could talk to him, but the coward in me holds my tongue.

“Harlow, look at me.” Finally, he speaks. I turn my head toward him and cringe at what I see.

The lights from Sin’s car shine through the back window, illuminating James’ face. Anger radiates from his stormy blue eyes and his nostrils flare. He’s boiling mad. He glances back to the road for a few seconds, releasing me from his gaze.

“What were you doing holding Sinclair’s hand?” he spits out through gritted teeth. “Make me understand.”

I take a deep breath and prepare to tell him the complete truth. Nothing less will suffice. No lies or pretending. Truth.

“I promise it was not what you think.” He interrupts me with a huff and a tsk. I chalk it up as a gut reaction. “I know it looked bad. But I promise, it was a show of support. I asked Sin why—”

“You mean Sinclair.” His jaw forms into a knot as his eyes return to the road. The only movement from him is the heavy rise and fall of his chest.

“Yes, Sinclair. I asked a question and he gave me an honest answer. I wondered what made him choose to be a doctor.”

“I don’t know why the hell I agreed for him to come here. I never should’ve listened to my damn mother,” James interrupts again, and I’m getting upset that he won’t let me explain.

“Stop it,” I softly declare. “Please, give me a chance to finish.”

“Well, by all means,” he sneers.

“His friend was injured and died as he held him. Sinclair felt helpless to save him. I know what that’s like. Having someone die and feeling helpless.” My voice breaks and I scan James’ face.

His shoulders fall and the tension deflates inside the car as his death grip on the steering wheel loosens. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, hoping he believes me and this crazy battle has come to an end.

“And him touching your face?” He glances to the right, his eyes questioning.

“I started crying, remembering my mother.” I move closer to James and place my hand on his shoulder. “It’s the truth. I promise.”

“Why do you think I question you?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” I confess.

“Do you love me, Harlow?” I lean over toward him and run my fingers through his hair, massaging him tenderly. He relaxes under my touch and I answer him with resolve.

“Of course I do.”

“Then actually say it.” He removes my hand from his hair and holds it tight in his. “Say it, Harlow.”

I search deep inside myself for the words and feelings. I close my eyes, but all I feel is the touch of Sin’s fingers on my cheek. His soft caress. His thoughtful words. It has to be the vodka making me confused. I shake the thoughts from my mind.

James’ fingers tighten even more, his painful grip demanding the words from me. I say them in my head. I love you, I chant it again and again. Finally, my lips move.

“I …” I pause and he takes his eyes off the road, connecting them with mine. Waiting. “I love you.” The illusive words are finally spoken, but are they the truth? My heart doesn’t follow them with a feeling. Surely, it would soar within me and confirm they’re genuine.