“No, it’s okay. I need to… I don’t even know, but I need to do this myself this time.”
“I’m here, Harper. In any way, you need at any time.”
“I’ve known that for a long time, King Shrek,” I tease.
“I thought we were past that,” he chortles into the phone.
* * *
I toss and turn all night long, even though I’m exhausted. My mind wouldn’t settle down enough to let me sleep.
When I start to see the orange of the morning sun peek through my curtains, I push my covers off and get out of bed. Piling my hair up in a high messy bun, I pull on a sports bra and a pair of yoga pants.
With my yoga mat under my arm, I walk to my favorite place on the beach to meditate. Taking a deep breath, I sit and cross my legs with my hands in front of my chest, eyes closed, and try to find my center.
Instead of doing a full workout, I sit and let the sound of the waves take over my senses, the salty air filling my lungs as the sun rises behind my closed lids. I sit there until I feel the sun begin to burn my shoulders.
Tilting my head back to feel the sun on my face, I smile. Reaching for my phone, I snap a selfie without opening my eyes. When I pick my head up, I slowly open my eyes and look at the picture I took.
Opening Instagram, I upload the picture. Feeling Serenity is the caption I add, opting to not fake or hide behind some halfhearted witty comment. Pausing, I take a deep breath and then add: The sun on my face feels like a warm hug from you.
Rolling up my mat and slipping on my shoes, I walk farther down to my favorite coffee shop. Sipping my coffee, I continue to watch the waves and focus on the positives in my life. I’m not going to let my pain and hurt overtake me.
Not again… Not like before.
It hurts.
Everything hurts.
My body aches, and my mind makes it worse with all the memories and thoughts of what if. My heart is the worst though. I’m destroyed, and I don’t know if I can ever be put back together again. I’m broken into pieces too small to repair. I’m nothing more than ash and dust blowing away in the wind.
I’ve been trying to get back to feeling like myself for months, but I can’t. I don’t want to. Everyone I loved with my whole heart has left me.
Teddy drove me back home to North Carolina last night. I couldn’t keep bringing Tristan down with me. He’s a good guy and shouldn’t be drowning with me.
But there are so many memories here. In this town, this house, the beach, everywhere I look I see him. I feel him.
In my bed. The place we made our daughter.
Serenity…
What I wouldn’t give to feel her again. Her little kicks inside me. Feel her soft skin against my cheek.
I want to be with her…
The wind is howling outside. The storm was just beginning to brew when Teddy pulled up to my parents’ house last night. Now it’s raining hard, the wind whistling, thunder clapping and lightning streaking across the sky.
Maybe that’s her. She’s mad at me. She should be. I didn’t protect her like I should have.
I need to feel her…
Slowly I make my way outside. The rain pelts down on me, my clothes drenched and sticking to my body. The waves are big and angry, crashing harshly as they break.
Maybe they’ll break me…
The water slides up my feet, swirling around my ankles as I stand there watching the storm rage around me, the ocean its battleground. I walk farther into the water; each step feels like I’m walking toward peace.
When it reaches my waist, I close my eyes and fall back, letting the water consume me. The rough waves toss me around, but I smile.
I’m coming, baby girl…
Arms bound around me, and at first, I think this is it; I’m gone. I lie limp, giving in.
“What the hell are you doing?”
My eyes open on Teddy’s. “Put me down!” I yell.
“Are you crazy? You’re going to kill yourself out here. You’re lucky I saw you walk out!” he yells at me.
I shove at his chest. “Please. Let me go,” I plead. “I want to be with her.”
Holding me close to his body, he carries me up to the beach, the storm still raging around us as he sits with me on his lap. “You can’t do this, Harper.”
“I don’t want to be here without her,” I cry into his neck.
“But I need you,” he says, his voice sounding rough and pained. “Don’t do this. You’re stronger than this, Harps. I know you’re hurting, but I’m here. You’re not alone. I’m not leaving you.”
“It hurts so bad.”
“I know. Shhh…I know.” His head leans onto mine as I watch the waves crash with a boom.
After a while, I wake up feeling him carrying me back home. “Stay with me. I don’t want to be alone, Teddy.”
I wipe away the tear that cascades down my cheek. Picking up my things, I walk back home but only stop there to dump my mat inside the door. I stride to the house next door, pushing open the door and walking inside.
I find Teddy in the kitchen filling his travel mug with coffee. He’s dressed in his suit, ready to leave for work at the office. His eyes meet mine as I walk in slowly.
“You okay?” he asks, his brow creased with concern when he sees me.
I grin and nod. “I don’t think I ever really thanked you for saving me that night.” I drop my face, twisting my fingers nervously.
“Harper…” he says my name softly. “I wish I could have saved you from more than that.” I hear him walk closer to me, but I can’t look at him. Not yet. “I’m sorry I was such an ass this weekend. I just hate seeing you hurting.”
“Teddy, I… I love you.” I look up at him, tears shining in my eyes. He looks at me shocked and surprised, and it makes me chuckle and duck my head back down.
My phone starts to ring in my pocket, making me jump and him smile as it breaks the heavy moment.
Pulling it out, I see it’s an unknown number and ignore it. But as soon I open my mouth to say more, it rings again. “Answer it,” Teddy says, stepping in front of me. “Dinner tonight, you and me.” He smiles and then dips to kiss me softly on the head. I nod and watch him go as my phone rings again.
Annoyed now, I answer with a snap in my voice. “Hello?”
“Harper?” I freeze because I know that voice.
My eyes slowly close, and I whisper his name. “Jett.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Jett
I woke up and tried with every impulse in me not to look on my phone to see if she’d made a post today. She’s rarely missed a day in the three years since I’ve been following her. As hurt and pissed as I am at all the events that transpired over the weekend, ending in the clusterfuck that it became, I still couldn’t keep from looking.
Her face was beaming with a soft smile, head tilted up toward the heavens as the sun shone down. Feeling Serenity. She looked serene. She looked calm and peaceful, and I envied it.
I haven’t felt like that in years. Probably not since I was a teen sitting on the pier with her, watching the rising sun, or holding her in my arms after showing her how much I loved her.
She was my peace.
I read the next line: The sun on my face feels like a warm hug from you. It had me pausing because it wasn’t her usual goofy humor. No. This felt personal. And it felt like a message she was sending directly to me.
Before I could change my mind, I unblocked her number and hoped she hadn’t changed it after all these years.
I don’t know why I kept calling back when she—or whoever had this number now—didn’t answer, but I did.
The third time I tried, she answered, sounding annoyed, and I hated the anger in her voice. She wasn’t an angry person by nature, and that sort of inflection didn’t belong there. But that didn’t stop me from recognizing her.
Just saying her name hurt. But not as bad as her whispering my name back.
I was paralyzed. I couldn’t speak.
I didn’t know what to say, and yet, I was the one who was blowing up her phone on a Monday morning.
I must have stayed quiet too long because she softly asks, “Jett? Is that you? Are you still there?”
“Yeah,” I say, my voice sounding rough like sandpaper.
“Are you... Are you okay?”
A little chuckle comes out. This girl. I blow up at her, and she asks if I’m okay. “Yeah, Harps. I’m okay.” I slide my hand over my face, letting out a breath to try to calm my erratic heart thumping loudly.
We stay silent for another minute. Maybe more. But she doesn’t hang up, and neither do I. I finally get the nerve and ask, “Were you talking about our baby?”
“What?” she asks, confused.
Swallowing, I try again. “On your post this morning.”
“You follow me?” she asks instead of answering my question.
“I have for a while.”
“I had no idea.”
“Is that not okay?” I ask, wondering if I shouldn’t have told her.
“Of course it is. I just…” She pauses and snorts out a little laugh, making my lips twitch to smile with her. “I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for years. And here you are one of my millions of followers. It’s just… unexpected, I guess.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper the words that I should have said before. Words that don’t seem like enough. Not after everything that’s happened.
She’s quiet for a few seconds before she cautiously asks, “Do you want to know more about her?”
I take in a stuttered breath. “It was a girl?”
“She was beautiful, Jett,” she says, and I can hear the love and adoration for our daughter in her voice. “Her name is—was—” she corrects herself with a sniff—“Serenity Jane Leos.”
“Serenity,” I repeat. Saying her name out loud seems like not enough. “Wait. You gave her my last name? Even after…”
“She was your daughter, Jett. It didn’t matter that you didn’t know about her or that you weren’t there. She was yours. Ours.” Pain sears into my chest with each word she says. “I have pictures of her if you want to see her.”
“But I thought you said she died before she was born?”
She clears her throat. “Yes. But I had just entered my third trimester. It was considered a stillbirth. I went through labor and delivery and got to hold her.” She sniffs.
“Fuck, I’m such an asshole, Harper. I can’t believe you did all of that and I was an unaware dick through it all.” If I wasn’t pissed at myself before, I sure as hell am now. I let out a rough exhale. “Could you send me a picture of the picture?”
“I’d love to. Give me a second.” I hear her move around.
My phone vibrates in my hand, letting me know I have a text message. “Hang on a second,” I tell her and tap on my screen to open up the text she sent.
A picture of the tiniest baby I’ve ever seen is there. She doesn’t look real. My throat feels tight as I stare down at the picture. A tear falls onto my screen as my vision blurs.
“She looks like you,” she whispers, making it hurt even more.
“You weren’t alone, were you?” I don’t know why I ask, but I want to make sure that even though I wasn’t there, she had someone with her.
“No. Tristan and I were together in the car when we were hit. He stayed with me until I was discharged. My mom, Violet and Gabby were in the room when I gave birth, and Teddy and Tristan came in to see her after.”
Stupid, selfish jealousy slides over me hearing that Teddy and Tristan got to meet my daughter when I couldn’t. “Did they hold her?”
“My mom did, but I didn’t let anyone else. I was only allowed so long with her and wanted her all to myself.”
“I’m so sorry, Harper,” I apologize again, even though it’s not enough. It’ll never be enough. I know I’ll never be able to make up for not being there with her. For her.
“It’s okay, Jett. I’ve had time to heal. I understand that this is all new for you.”
“Why are you being so nice? I was a fucking dick to you the other day when you tried to tell me! I left you!” I yell and then add, “I left you, Harper. I left you hurting and pregnant to do it all on your own because I’m a selfish motherfucker who couldn’t see past his own anger and pain of having to leave you. Leaving you has been my biggest regret in life. Until now.”
Tears are falling down my face as I say everything that I should have said years ago. I hate that we’re having to do this over the fucking phone. This is what I get for being a douche and not listening to her in Miami.
“I can’t do this. I can’t talk about this anymore,” I tell her, gritting my teeth.
“We can talk another time if you—”
“No. I can’t,” I grit out.
“Oh,” she says, and I hear the hurt in her voice. I’m hurting her all over again. I’m such a fucking asshole.
“You need to stay away from me, Harper. All I do is hurt you, and all you deserve is peace and happiness.”
“Jett…”
“Bye, Harper.”
I don’t wait for her to say anything more. I end the call and quickly block her number again. Throwing my phone, it bounces off the wall across from me, landing in a crash to the floor.
My head falls as I cry. I cry harder than I have ever cried before in my life.
* * *
In the days after talking to Harper, I give Lucifer himself a run for his money. At the office, everyone learns quickly not to talk to me unless it’s completely necessary. And God help them if it’s not necessary and they disturb me from my self-loathing.
Once I got a new phone to replace the one I broke, I made sure to not even add Instagram. I can’t look at her anymore. I don’t deserve to.
It’s funny. I knew when I first met her at the age of thirteen that she was too good for me. I didn’t listen, of course, because even in my early pubescent years, I was a selfish fucking asshole.
Taking the last step in fully becoming my father, I drown myself in work, Scotch and pussy. Par for the course of my life.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Teddy
I have been buzzing, on a high all day. She said she loved me. She said those words. To me. And not in an ‘I love you as a friend’ way but as in she is in love with me.
Teddy, I love you.
I can still hear the sincerity in her voice laced with everything I’ve dreamed of my whole life. Shit, I’m a chump and damn well might as well be called pussy-whipped too—even though we haven’t had sex yet.
It doesn’t matter though. She loves me.
No other girl could live up to her when we were kids or teens, and now that she’s a woman, no one else comes close. I’ve been in love with my best friend my whole life.
I watched as she fell in love with someone else. I watched as he left her and then destroyed her. I’ve watched it all, and I’ve been patient for my time. Our time.
Opening up the door after my day at work, I walk in hoping she’s already here. “Harper?” I call out. I look around, but I don’t see her anywhere.
My bad for not telling her to be here. I only said that we’d have dinner and talk about things tonight. I run up to my room to change and then briskly walk next door to her house. I knock but don’t wait for her to open the door before going in search of her.
She’s out back sitting on a chair and watching the waves, something she does often, getting lost in her thoughts. “Harper? You okay?” I ask softly, walking over to her.
Her head turns to look at me. She gives a small smile, wiping a tear from her cheek. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I lost track of time. How was your day?”
“You’re crying. What’s wrong?” I squat in front of her, taking her hand in mine while wiping the rest of the wetness from her cheek.
“It doesn’t matter,” she says, trying to smile like she isn’t upset by something. “What do you want to do for dinner? In or out?” She changes the subject.
I study her a moment before answering. “Let’s stay in.”
“That sounds good,” she says quietly, still sounding off, but I don’t push. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
She stands and I pull her into me, kissing her sweet lips. “Let me cook for you.”
“Since when do you cook?” she asks with a questioning look.
“I can grill,” I defend myself.
“That’s not cooking,” she chuckles.
“Pfft! Aren’t you supposed to be all positive and shit with all the meditations and junk you do? You sound awfully negative and judgy right now, Harps,” I tease. “Let’s run to the store and pick up some steaks.”
She shakes her head at me. “How is it that you’ve known me my whole life but can never remember that I don’t eat red meat?”
I look at her, dumbfounded for a second. How do I always forget that?
“I have some fish already. How about you let me make dinner here? I think it might be safer for both of us.”
“Fine, Miss Rude and Judgy,” I grumble, sitting down on a bar stool.
I watch in fascination as she gets everything out and prepped before putting asparagus in the oven. She stirs rice on the stove, adds butter to it, and I don’t even know what else. She seasons a couple pieces of salmon and lets them sit a bit while the other sides cook. When she places the fish in the hot pan, it pops, oil hitting her skin. “Shit!”
I jump up. “You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. Stupid hot oil gets me every damn time.”
Chuckling, I go to her wine fridge and grab a bottle of chardonnay, pulling out the cork and pouring a glass for each of us. I bring my arm around her with her glass and kiss the side of her neck. “For the cook.”
“Thank you,” she whispers, turning the fish and taking the glass from my fingers. She takes a big gulp of wine.
I pause, watching her for a second, hoping that she isn’t giving second thoughts to us since this morning. Shit, was that why she was crying earlier?
I Kissed Her First: A BOUND TOGETHER NOVEL Page 14
