Marry Screw Kill(63)

“Before you make that call, I need to see you in your office. I have a little something of yours. A legal document concerning a woman named Meghan. Ring a bell?” The line goes silent until James sighs.

“How did you find out about her?” Knowing he’s been caught, he doesn’t deny anything. The secret life he has lived abusing women will come to an end if I have anything to do with it.

“Does that even matter at this point?” He’ll discover Harlow’s box missing from his safe and know how I came upon this information, but I need him to meet me and the less information I give him now will make him agree to my terms. He understands I hold information that could forever alter his life and destroy him.

“Does Harlow know?” James asks in a hushed voice. Why does he even care at this point? I find the question odd.

“You’ve lost the right to even mention her name. Understand?” I say with a firm rebuke. Harlow strokes my shoulder and I lean into her touch. A trail of sensation skims over my back as she moves farther. I stare into her clear blue eyes and see gratitude in them.

“Okay. Okay,” James sighs. “When do you want to meet?”

“Four. Today. And I’m coming alone. See you in your office then.” I end the call, leaving him no room to argue. There’s nothing more to say, other than, “Gotcha.”

I turn to face Harlow as we sit on the edge of the bed in a hotel room, a mere block from James’ apartment. Her eyes peer up at me, searching for answers. She bites her lip and releases it. Those beautiful, soft lips I want to claim again, but know she isn’t ready for that with me. She needs time to rediscover who she is after being suppressed. Her freedom is just her beginning.

I love this other version of her more than the one I met a few days ago, though. She’s wearing old blue jeans with ratty hems and a shirt so worn, it’s almost see-through. Thing is, Harlow’s never looked lovelier to me. This is the real woman sitting next to me, not some doctor’s Barbie doll.

“What did he say?” she asks. I brush my thumb over her cheek, my need to keep touching her soft skin winning out over the fear of coming on too strong. Harlow doesn’t seem bothered by it. She leans in to each of my touches like she craves them.

“He agreed to meet me. What choice does he have?”

“True. Are you okay to go alone? I don’t ever want to see his face again.”

“Stay here. Maybe call Emma and have her come over while I’m gone.” She nods at the mention of her best friend. “I promise, after I talk with him, you’ll never see or hear from him again. What I have against James is better than any restraining order. It’s his future wrapped in a few legal documents. I will give him the rules he has to abide by. Believe me, he isn’t going to f*ck it up. You’re safe now.”

Harlow exhales a breath she’s likely been holding for months. I wrap my arm around her and pull her closer to me. She fits perfectly into my side, and a special place in my heart—a place I didn’t even know existed before meeting her. I am no longer the Tin Man when it comes to relationships after all.

“I hope you’re right,” Harlow says, her voice shaky. The trauma she’s suffered over the last four months isn’t going to be erased in one day, or likely months. I want to see her on the other side of all this pain, though—happy, smiling, and writing words from her heart. Anything less means James won.

“Trust me,” I implore with my words and my eyes. I wonder how many times James told her the same exact thing. How many times she gave her trust to a man abusing her goodness. “I will never do anything to hurt or deceive you. I am all for you, and with every breath I breathe, I will protect you from James or anyone else who stops you from living a real life. You deserve only the best.”

Tears well in her icy blue eyes and begin to fall, sliding over the curve of her cheeks. I wipe them away with my thumbs and kiss her forehead.

“I shouldn’t trust anyone,” Harlow confesses, “but I would trust you with my next heartbeat. You were willing to give up everything for me. All your dreams, so I could live mine. Whatever they are,” she scoffs, and I want to scold her for not believing in herself. Then I realize she needs someone to believe in her.

“I have a confession.” Harlow sits up taller and her body stiffens. I run a hand over her back and stop at the soft skin of her neck, caressing circles with my thumb. “Relax, sweet thing,” I whisper, and her tension eases under my touch.

Rising off the bed, I walk toward the box with her journal in it, feeling her eyes follow me. After opening the box, I glance over my shoulder and see her forehead scrunched in confusion.

“There’s something in here I’ve read.” Her eyes go wide as she realizes what I’m referring to. “I shouldn’t have, but I did.” I try to sound contrite, but the truth is I’m glad I’ve read her poems. They connected me to her soul and maturity in a way voiced words would never have been able to in such a short time. She poured her heart out on the pages I hold in my hands. Who she truly is lays exposed for me.

“Oh, please, Sin, tell me you didn’t read my poems?” Worry strains her voice as she shakes her head. I lean against the hotel wall and pat the area next to me.

“Come here,” I say in a low, hushed voice, adding a wink at the end. I open the journal to the first page and see a new entry dated from yesterday. “Looks like you added something since I’ve read it.”