by J. M. Dabney
“Okay, I haven’t heard anything, it’s like the man is a ghost.”
“That’s why he earned the nickname.”
“Yeah, yeah, Twitch and Kyle did share that the man is a perfect gentleman. That he treats you right.”
She couldn’t deny that, while she loved the perfect gentleman thing, she secretly wished sometimes he wasn’t so gentlemanly. That terrified her, though.
She knew what it was to be forced to bend over any available surface. She knew what it was like to cry and beg for it to end. What she knew Gideon would do to her would be far removed to what she was used to—what she had learned to endure.
Her body was going damn haywire, reacting in ways it hadn’t since her teens. She hadn’t experienced the need to masturbate in years, but now she thought about it, contemplated sex without a sense of foreboding. She didn’t know if she could do it. Her own body was her greatest enemy, had been since she realized it didn’t reflect who she felt she was.
“Hello, are you listening to me,” Clora asked.
“Sorry, I zoned out.”
“It’s fine, you want me to leave you alone to acclimate to being a working woman again.”
“That makes me sound rude.”
“No, not rude. You’ve had some major changes in the last month or so. It’s not rude to need time to reevaluate.”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
“I’m going to get lunch, I’ll be back in an hour or so. Do you need anything?”
“No, Gideon made me lunch, but when you get back, I’ll probably walk over to see Ben and get coffee.”
“See you soon.”
Clora kissed her cheek and left.
She let out a sigh of relief and felt like a bit of a bitch for doing it. Clora had in some ways been her rock over the years, as much as Kyle. She just wasn’t used to all the questions about Gideon and her. A man in her life that wanted to be seen with her on a date was difficult to process.
Clearing her mind, she finished shelving all the books in record time. She knew every inch of Nightingale, memorized every book and section over the years. She parked the cart in the storeroom and quickly took care of the dusting.
The cleaning was pretty minimal except for taking care of the leftover cookies and pastries, coffee and tea toward the end of the night. She made a cup of coffee, boxed the leftovers, along with a few dollars and placed them out on the back stoop. An elderly man who lived on the edge of town came by each night. She couldn't say he was homeless, but the house he lived in was falling down more every month. All she knew was he didn't have anyone, and she'd caught him outside Heidi's Diner several times just staring in.
She walked out back one night a year ago to throw away the trash and found him waiting near the dumpster Nightingale and Ben's bakery, Decadence, shared. She had ignored his embarrassment, but the next night she'd started leaving him coffee and sweets. It wasn't much, but it was something she could do. She almost expected the first offering to be there the next day, but when it wasn't, she figured he was okay with their silent agreement.
She headed up front for tea and a book while she waited for customers. After pulling the sports bottle of tea from her bag, she curled up on one end of the couch and opened her book. As with her attention span lately, she drifted into her head more than she read.
Her mind conjured images of Gideon, embarrassingly they always seemed to linger when her thoughts were of a shirtless Gideon. The man really didn't know what he did to her. She groaned and let her head fall back. Why did she have to wait until she was almost thirty to become sex-obsessed?
She knew she wasn't particularly attractive beneath her clothes. Her body was a roadmap of scar tissue. She'd forgone breast implants, hormones had helped, but she was small chested. The medicine softened her angles, and she'd gained weight. But due to her premature birth, she had always been lithe and short.
Harper didn't mind her penis. She knew others went with sex reassignment surgery, but it was never something she'd seriously considered. She'd found herself when she'd looked into the mirror when she purchased her first dress, and let her hair grow. She hadn't experienced being misgendered by strangers in years.
She still had moments of body dysphoria. Avoided catching her reflection in mirrors. It was like her anxiety or depression, her blonde hair, the dysphoria was just a part of her. If she hated anything about her body, it was the scars, reminders of her not so pretty and happy past. Finally, though it looked like things were looking up. Changing for the better. She felt happier than she had in so long.
Yes, Bill was still a threat, an invisible one since he hadn't made his presence known since his last attack. She realized too late that she unconsciously stroked her marred cheek.
He'd whispered, his alcohol-scented breath telling her how ugly and unlovable she was, how no man would want her. They weren't new—his verbal abuse as brutal as the physical attacks.
In the times Bill left her alone over the years, the brief moments of respite, she loved her life. She had jobs she loved. Friends she adored. A place she could call her own. She was happy and content.
For so long she dreamed about leaving town, finding a place where no one knew her. Maybe find something normal. But even as she thought about it, how could she leave Kyle or Clora, the Crews and Nettie?
The Devil she knew was better than the Devil she didn't, was an easy excuse. She'd lived in Atlanta, went to school there, and she could've stayed even after she'd dropped out. Found a job and disappeared. Yet what had she done? She came home. She'd had the opportunity to start over and hadn't taken it.
Movement in her peripheral caught her attention. Hopefully, it was a customer. She looked up and her mouth curved into a smile, then it fell. Bill stood outside the window. His hair was stringy with grease. His clothes were wrinkled. She grabbed her phone with shaking hands. Gideon and her had talked about a signal if she was in trouble, a text with an H. Terror caused her skin to turn icy and sweat dampened her brow.
Bill smirked. She knew that look, it was always the expression he wore before he hurt her. She typed H into the thread between her and Gideon and waited.
I’m not broken.
I’m not weak.
She mentally repeated the phrases even as her brain called her a liar. How could she be confident one minute and on the verge of running at the same time? She was scared to hit the send button. Years of hiding, trying to be invisible, and all the times law enforcement bullied her out of filing reports. Now she had support, and she didn’t know how to take it.
Nausea churned and fear stole her breath, but she tapped send. Gideon would get her help. Her legs trembled and threatened to give out as she rushed for the door. She just turned the lock as Bill stared at her through the glass. His breath fogging it and as he rattled the door, she jumped back. Gideon had been right, she shouldn’t have come back to work. She should’ve waited until they caught Bill.
“You can’t fucking hide forever, bitch. How long before your new fuck grows tired of the freak?”
Bill didn’t seem to care anymore if anyone knew what happened between them. There could only one reason for that, he planned to carry through with his threats and kill her. A part of her wished for that outcome for so many years, but not anymore, she had a chance for something. She had a chance with Gideon.
She covered her ears and blocked him out. Gideon liked her. Cared about her. He wouldn’t—her phone vibrated in her hand. She opened her eyes to find Bill gone and sirens blaring in the distance, growing louder.
She checked her message.
Gideon: Wren on his way. Be there soon. Be safe.
Her hands shook as she started to type out a message and squealing tires alerted her Wren was there. The stocky, muscular Deputy was at the door before she had a chance to blink.
“Harper, open up.”
She slowly strode toward the door, unlocked it, and Wren pushed it open.
“Are you okay?”
“He did
n’t get in. He was outside the window. He just…I was probably—”
“Don’t say stupid. What he did should never have happened. We’re going to make sure it doesn’t again.”
“Where’s Gideon?”
“Probably breaking every traffic law in the books.”
“He had so much to do today.”
“I’m sure he considers you more important. The Sheriff and the rest of the Deputies are checking the area, Ghost made me promise to stay with you.”
“Oh, I don’t want to be a bother.”
“You’re family, Harper, it’ll never be a bother. Why don’t you have a seat? Ghost will be here soon.”
She nodded and made her way back to her spot on the couch. She sat down, but she didn’t relax. Her phone was tucked to her chest as she waited for Gideon.
She didn’t have to wait long, she heard his truck well before she saw him slam on the brakes out front. She was off the couch and in his arms before he was barely through the front door.
“You should’ve stayed home.”
She leaned back as she glared up at him. As it always was with him, she was safe, and felt no need to censor herself.
“I wanted to come back to work, and we’re not arguing about this.”
“You might say we’re not going to argue, but we are.”
Stepping back, she slammed her fists down on the subtle flare of her hips. Wren’s laughter had her breaking the staring contest she was having with Gideon.
“When’s the big day,” Wren asked.
“What?”
“It’s like watching Hunter and Linus fight.” Hunter and Linus were Wren’s husbands. “Why didn’t anyone tell us you two were dating? We could’ve welcomed her to the family and all.”
“We’re not…not dating, we’re friends.”
“Keeping it secret, I can respect that. Since Ghost is here, I’ll check in with the Sheriff.”
Wren disappeared with a grin on his face, and she didn’t particularly like it, as if she were some kind of joke.
“He thinks we’re dating,” she whispered like someone would hear.
He crossed his arms over his wide chest and grinned. “Technically, we’re living together.”
“We’re not—”
“You’re in my house. We’ve gotten puppies. We eat most meals together. I’ve discovered you’re a huge cuddler.”
“That doesn’t mean we’re living together. You only asked me to stay with you because of Bill.”
“Actually, I believe I asked you out to the farm several times. So, to be honest, I wanted you there before Bill.”
“But he thinks we’re dating, I don’t want to em—”
“You even finish that, and we’ll have a real fight. Why don’t we go to Vincent’s before we go home?”
She hadn’t lived in the same space as Gideon not to pick up on his little quirks. He was trying to distract her. Normally, it made her defensive, but Gideon naturally put her at ease. “Like a date?”
“Not like a date, a date.”
“Okay.”
“So, we have a decision to make.”
“And what might that be?”
“Are you finishing out your shift or am I taking you home?”
“I’d like to finish out my first day back.”
“Second decision, do I take up residence on the couch or do I go home, and you text me every hour to let me know you’re okay?”
“As much as I love your company, I’d like to finish out my day on my own. I’m sure he won’t be back.”
“Then I require a hug before I leave.”
She rolled her eyes as she stepped forward, and he opened his arms. She twined her arms around him and laid her hands flat on his shoulder blades.
“Are you leaving without protesting?”
“I’m mentally protesting. You should be out at the farm until they catch him, but you’re also a grown woman who can make her own decisions. You were taking care of yourself long before I came along.”
“So, if I said I wanted to go home?”
“I’d throw you in the truck as fast—”
“No, I meant my apartment.”
His hold loosened and his shoulders seemed to droop, he didn't let go, but he pulled away.
Harper didn't want to leave, but she'd have to go eventually. The longer she stayed, the less she wanted to go back to her little one room apartment.
“You can move out to the farm. It's not like I don't have the room.”
“I'd have to pay rent,” she answered without a second thought.
“Why?”
“Gideon.”
“Fine, you can pay rent.”
“Everything would be fifty-fifty.”
“Fine, we'll sit down and discuss it after dinner. What about your apartment?”
“It's a month to month lease, but because I haven't—”
“You can't afford next month's rent?”
“No.” It embarrassed her to admit it. She'd taken care of herself, she was never rich, and for a year she had to crash on her best friend's couch, but Harper paid her own way.
“We'll get you moved in this weekend.”
Gideon made it sound so easy, and it wasn't. Her pride stung. She allowed herself to get in the position with no easy way out. Harper would've gone back to Kyle's if she had to but she loved the farm. It felt like home.
“Okay.”
The shrill ring of the bell had her peeking around Gideon to find Clora rushing inside.
“Harper, why are there...oh, hi.”
Harper almost laughed at her boss's wide eyes and speculative stare that bounced between her and Gideon.
“Clora, it's fine, Bill was outside.”
“Oh, honey, are you, what am I thinking, of course you're okay. Now, are you going to introduce me?”
“Clora, this is Gideon, Gideon, this is my boss, Clora.”
Gideon released her, and she observed them, Clora was a natural born flirt. No man or woman was safe, but Clora kept her outrageous personality under control. She was shocked at not a fluttered lash or innuendo, it was weird.
“Hello, Clora, Harper has told me a lot about you.”
“Wish I could say the same, but if you were mine, I'd want to keep you all to myself too.”
“Very nice of you to say so. Harper says she wants to finish out her shift.”
“Harper, you should go home.”
“No, Harper needs to do it, but I'll be back to pick her up for dinner at closing time.”
“I won't leave until you get here.”
“Very much appreciated.”
Gideon turned back to her, and she leaned in when he bent to kiss her forehead.
“You need me, you text, but check in every once in awhile, so I don't worry, okay?”
“You shouldn't worry about me.”
“Not happening. You sure I can't talk you into coming home?”
“I need to do this.”
“I get it.”
She smiled as he brushed another kiss to her forehead. He said goodbye, and she watched him until he got in his truck, then pulled out.
“So, sure there isn't anything you'd like to share?”
“Yes, I'm sure.” She walked away with Clora close on her heels.
Maybe she should've gone home with Gideon, but she needed to prove something to herself. She could make it. Life hadn't always gone the way it should have or how she wanted it to, yet today that changed. She'd waited 29 years to find her place, it wouldn't be easy, but she wanted this—wanted Gideon.
All she had to figure out was how to do that.
Fourteen
Ghost Really Should be at Home
The music coming from the speakers of Brawlers was damn near deafening, and he was crammed into a booth, blocked from escape by King on one side, and Bull on the other. Two hours ago, Gregory, Twitch, Lucky, and Elijah had arrived at his house, their men not far behind. Harper and him were in the middle of moving her stuff in, th
en he was physically dragged to King’s truck and tossed in back.
He had looked forward to a night of just them. The last few evenings they’d gone through Harper’s stuff, decided what could be donated and what she wanted to keep. To say he was surprised by how little she had would be an understatement. It had only taken them two trips to move all the belongings she wanted to keep out to the farm.
He should be at home helping her get settled into her new room. They’d been fighting when everyone showed up. He wanted her to stay in his room, but she was determined to move into one of the guestrooms. It was just a room, but he wanted her to keep sleeping in his room—his bed. He loved her there, but she’d had other plans, and he respected that.
“You can stay away from your woman for one night, let Harper have some time alone,” King’s tone was disgusted.
“We were moving her in. I should be—”
“No, you shouldn’t, leave her alone and don’t even let me catch you texting her.”
King was fussing at him like he was a kid, but never even looked away from a grungy looking biker in the corner across the room. He loved King, called the man one of his best friends but the guy had shit taste in bed partners. If King would just admit he had a thing for his former brother-in-law, then King’s life would be so much easier.
“Man, don’t even think about it,” Bull warned King.
“I wasn’t thinking anything.”
“Where’s Mal tonight,” Gideon asked.
It was a surefire way to get King's attention. The man's favorite topic was his 3-year-old son, Mal. The kid was a mini-version of King.
“Lincoln took him to see his parents for the week.”
“Didn't want to go?”
King shrugged his massive shoulders and finally took his attention away from the mistake in the corner.
“The ex-in-laws aren't exactly my biggest fans.”
“They can't still blame you because you and Melanie split up. It’s not like the two of you were broken up about it. They still got a problem with Lincoln being gay?”
“It's one of those don't ask, don't tell situations.”
“That's fucking rough.”
“It is what it is, man.”
