by Mia Carson
“What are you talking about?”
“She started that out there in the hall and you know it, but who do you call out? Me. You call me out because heaven forbid you go against your friends or anyone else from your happy world,” she muttered, using air quotes to add to her mocking. “Some things never change.”
Harold’s face grew hot, and he tugged his tie off, tossing it onto his desk. “Can we please move past this and get to why I called you here?”
“Oh, you didn’t set that up to try and humiliate me again?”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you showing me yet again that I don’t belong in this world. Well, congratulations. I got the message loud and clear too many times to count now. All you do is rub it in a little bit harder each time,” she ranted, waving her arms wide. “As if I didn’t have enough of that shit when we were together.”
Harold’s mind raced and he shook his head. “Anna, calm down and explain. Please, you’re losing me here. I never did anything to humiliate you when we were together. You, on the other hand, seemed quite happy to drive me to the brink of insanity with your antics.”
The second the words left his mouth, he wished he could swallow them. Anna’s mouth fell open on a gasp of shock that turned into a growl of annoyance. “You bastard. My antics? You want to talk about someone’s antics, how about yours or your mother’s? I acted like myself and you liked it. You liked everything about me until we were around your family or your goddamn friends!”
“That is a lie,” he argued, but she picked up a decorative pillow from the leather couch and chucked it as his head. He grunted as he caught it and threw it to the floor.
“No, the lie is you standing there thinking your actions aren’t what drove me away in the first place.” She picked up the second pillow, clutching it to her chest. “You are the most two-faced man I’ve ever met in my life. And I work in a bar!” She threw the second pillow with a yell, but he dodged it this time.
“I cared for you more than you realize,” he shot back, his chest heaving as he stalked closer, but she moved, putting the couch between them.
“That’s rich. You never showed it, at least not towards the end, and by then it was too late!”
“Too late for what? You walked away from me without a word! You left me!” he reminded her, his rage from that night flooding back into his body. “You were there with me and my family and suddenly, you were gone. There was never an explanation, no reason why!”
She shoved her violet hair from her face and stormed around the couch so she could shove him hard in the chest. “You want to know why I left?”
“Yes!” he yelled. “I want to know why you left what we had behind. Everything about us was good. And you…you gave it all up. You gave me up. Why, Anna?” he asked on a breath as pain joined the anger. “Why?”
Her grey eyes focused on his and he stilled, seeing the exact same pain reflected in those depths. “Because you refused to let me in,” she whispered. “You put up a mask when you’re around those close to you, who expect you to be a certain way, but with me…with me, you were different.” She lifted her hand as if to hold his face and he silently begged for her to, but her hand fell limply to her side. “You were freer around me, happier. But when we weren’t alone, I was nothing more than an embarrassment to you.”
“No,” he growled. “No, that’s not what I thought, or think.”
“Wasn’t it? How many times did you tell me not to come with you to a gathering or a party?” she asked, and he bit the inside of his cheek, thinking back to those days. “I was never going to fit into your world, Harry, and that’s not going to change. I am who I am. The daughter of a biker and his wife. I own a bar. Hell, I have violet hair,” she said, laughing sadly. “You can’t be with me because they would never allow it. I didn’t want to see it then, but I do now.”
“Anna,” he begged as she stepped away from him.
“No, Harry, just…I can’t. I gave you everything I had and you—you couldn’t let that wall down and tell me how you felt. You couldn’t even show me. You hid behind that wall of yours.”
She moved farther away, nearing the door, as his heart pounded in his chest. His mind screamed at him to go to her, to prove her wrong, but another, darker voice told him she was dead right. Those six months he’d spent in a tug of war with himself about who he truly was and who he wanted to be.
He held out his hand for her, not ready to see her walk out on him again, but she reached the door and fumbled for the handle. Tears brimming in her eyes, she mouthed words he didn’t understand and took off out of his office. Harold’s hand dropped, and he stared numbly at the empty doorway. She had left him a second time, but at least now he had answers.
Do you? You have nothing except the knowledge that she left because you were embarrassed of her, he scolded himself. She’s right and you know it. You let them get to you. You always do, and now you lost your second chance with the woman you should be with.
“The hell I did,” he growled and charged out the door after her.
He sprinted down the stairs and out the door into the cold, biting air. He slipped into his car and revved the engine. Several cabs lined the streets, but he couldn’t see if Anna was in one of them as he raced through the city. He parked outside The Crawler a few minutes later and ran inside the doors.
“Anna—where is she?” he asked Missy, out of breath.
“Where’s the fire?” she teased.
“Seriously, where is she?” he repeated, hoping she saw the desperation and apology in his eyes.
Her face softened, and she tossed her bar towel over her shoulder. “She headed upstairs. What are you up to, Harold?”
He didn’t respond except to smile and dashed to the back stairs. He took them two at a time as everything he should have said to her six months ago rushed to get out in one breath, but when he topped the stairs, he slid to a stop.
“Anna?”
She stood at the entrance to her apartment, her body shaking and her keys on the floor at her feet along with her purse. “Bastard,” she hissed, but she wasn’t looking at him. Her eyes were wide when he neared her as she stared into her apartment.
“What happened?” he asked and immediately shoved her behind him.
The place was trashed. Her furniture was overturned and smashed along with most of her belongings. They were scattered all over the floor, pictures were torn from the walls, and when he walked further in, the red and black graffiti on the walls made him hold out his arm to stop Anna from coming in any further.
“No, call the cops. You need to report this,” he ordered.
“Harry, what is it? Let me see,” she demanded, but he stopped her, forcibly removing her from the apartment. “What, damn it?”
“Call the cops.”
She shoved him out of the way and ran into her apartment before he could stop her. He pulled out his phone and called for the cops as he heard Anna curse incoherently from inside her apartment. When the operator answered, Harold joined her and glared at the wall covered in spray paint.
“Yes, I need to report a break-in,” he said grimly.
Anna reached out and ran her fingers down the paint as Harold dealt with the operator. When the paint came away wet on her hand, he frowned and reached out to test it, too. He hung up suddenly and put a finger to his lips.
“What?” she whispered. “You think they’re still here?”
He bent down and picked up a broken chair leg to use as a weapon. He wielded it over his shoulder and crept through the apartment towards the hall to the back bedroom. After a few minutes of hearing nothing, he lowered his makeshift weapon until a grunt of annoyance reached his ears. Anna gripped his arm hard enough to bruise it. He motioned for her to stay back, and taking a deep breath, he charged into the room with the chair leg at the ready. A man in a black shirt and baseball cap pulled low over his eyes whirled around, startled.
Harold had a split s
econd to be thankful the man didn’t draw a gun before he drew back his fist and nailed him right in the face. Harold flew backwards from the hit, swinging wildly at the attacker. He landed a solid hit on the man’s shoulder, and he grunted in pain, but another punch sent Harold falling to the floor. Anna yelped, but Harold heard footsteps running out of the apartment. A second later, Anna rushed through the doorway, cursing when she spotted him on the floor.
“Do you believe me now?” she muttered, crouching down beside him. “He busted your cheek pretty good. Must’ve been wearing a ring.” She tugged her sleeve down and pressed it to the wound on his cheek.
Harold relaxed against her, letting her tend to him as he looked around her wrecked bedroom filled with more graffiti. “Yes, I believe you. Who was that?”
“I don’t know,” Anna replied exasperated, “but I bet you he’s the asshole who attacked me at Johnny’s place. The one I was going to tell you about today.”
“Wait, so you do know who it was?”
“No…maybe.” She shook her head, the violet strands falling over his face as softly as he remembered. “We’ll worry about it later.”
Sirens blared outside the building, and Anna called the two officers to the bedroom. Harold let them haul him to his feet and get him to the couch. Anna followed, appearing adrift in a world falling apart around her. And there was Harold, desperately wanting to pick up the pieces and fit her world back together, except with him back in it for good.
Chapter 5
The words covered Anna’s living room and trailed down the hall into her bedroom. The paint was wet and covered her hand from touching it earlier. The cops were still speaking with Harold. The same detective who’d spoken to her about attacking Johnny was there. He took her statement down and patted her comfortingly on the shoulder before he walked away.
“Don’t worry, Ms. Crawley. I think this might have been the best thing to happen to you,” he told her.
“Yeah? I’m not sure I see it that way.”
“You should. Now you have an eye witness to another person possibly being involved with what happened during the assault. We’ll look into both incidents very closely.” He gave her an encouraging smile and walked away, leaving her to stare at the letters on her wall.
Slut. Whore. Bitch. They were only words, but knowing why they were on the wall pissed her off with every second she watched the paint run down. The asshole even covered up pictures of her and her parents, pictures of them at the bar. She moved slowly around the edge of the room, her gaze roaming over the damage.
“Oh no,” she whispered and rushed to grab a chair.
“Anna? What are you doing?” Harold asked, walking up behind her.
“The license plates,” she said as she strained to reach up and take them off the wall. The last set her dad had were downstairs in the bar, but the one in her apartment was from his very first bike, the one he rode when he met her mom. “He got paint all over it.” She scrubbed at it furiously, but the paint only smeared, making it worse. The plates were one of the first gifts she’d received from Winston’s scavenger hunts, and Anna loved them and the memory they held of her parents. Tears burned in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks as Harold grabbed her arms and helped her down from the chair. “It’s ruined…he fucking ruined it.”
“We’ll get it cleaned,” he promised, and his hands stilled hers gently. A soothing wave washed over her, and she let him take the plate from her and set it aside. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“No, no, I’m not all right,” she snapped, and he pulled her into his arms as she cried, unable to stay strong anymore. “I’ve been accused of something I didn’t do and then my place is broken into and vandalized! What did I do to deserve this shit, huh?”
“On the bright side, it gave me a chance to see you again,” he murmured.
“Yeah, because we both know you wanted to see me again.” She wiped her eyes and pushed away from him, not that he let her go far. “Harold, really, you don’t have to act all nice to me.”
“Who said this was acting?” He ran his hands down her arms and sighed. “I don’t think I want you staying here tonight, not after seeing this.”
“I’ll bunk with Missy,” she said, but he was already shaking his head.
“No, you’re going to stay with me. That way I know you’re safe,” he told her firmly.
“Really? Just like that you’re going to invite me to stay with you.”
“Why not?” His jaw shifted and he cleared his throat a few times. “Look, what you said in my office…I realize we have a few issues we might need to work through, but I’m willing to do so if you are.”
Anna’s pulse jackhammered in her veins and her mouth went dry. There it was, the second chance with Harold she’d dreamt about. What were the chances of him actually being serious and wanting to work things out? Having him back in her life would bring her happiness, but at the same time, if they failed at their relationship again, there was a chance he would break her heart for good. Living through that pain the first time was hard enough. Doing it a second time?
“Anna?”
“You’re not going to take no for an answer, are you?” she stated.
“Not going to happen. If I wasn’t here, that man might’ve gone after you instead of me.”
She patted him on the shoulder, each touch sending a tingle through her body she hadn’t felt in months. "I can take care of myself.”
His scowl said that wasn’t the answer he wanted to hear. “Grab a bag and some clothes and we’ll get out of here. We can grab some dinner.”
She bit her lip, knowing she shouldn’t say it, but the words slipped out anyway. “Are you sure you want to be seen in public with the purple-haired daughter of a biker?” she asked, running her hand over her ruined sweatshirt.
He tilted her chin up, and the longing in his eyes stole her breath. “I don’t give a damn who sees us together. I let you walk away from me one time, Anna, and I’ve regretted it ever since. I’m not letting you go that easily.” He stepped closer so the heat of his body warmed hers. “Get your things and let’s go somewhere you don’t have to stare at those words.” His hand fell away and she desired his touch again.
“Bag, right,” she muttered roughly and coughed. “I’ll be…I’ll be back.”
Anna pulled the duffel out from her closet and managed to hold her sanity together long enough to grab some jeans, panties, and sweaters and throw them into the duffel. She went to the bathroom and tossed in a few odds and ends, her mind filled with what could happen with her staying at Harold’s. Back in her bedroom, she picked up her dad’s old leather coat and draped it over her arm. She peeked out the door, but Harold was on the phone. She fell to the floor and shoved her dresser aside with a grunt. It scraped across the floor and Harold called her name.
“What are you doing?” he asked as she shoved the dresser further out of the way.
“Taking everything out of the safe that bastard was probably hoping to find.” She knocked the heel of her hand against the corner of the piece of sheet rock and it popped free of the wall. She set the material aside to reveal a safe set into the wall.
“Well now, Anna, you’re just full of surprises,” he said, smirking.
“My dad put this in years ago,” she explained as she turned the dial and opened the small safe. She pulled out the tiny wad of cash she had for emergencies and tucked it in her pocket, but the only other item in there was the contract signed by her dad, Johnny, Johnny’s uncle and, of course, Anna. “I’ll show it to you when we get back to your place. There’s something else I should have told you.”
He nodded and took the duffel bag from her. “We’ll grab takeout on the way home. And some wine. I think we’re going to need it.”
“Wine, really?” she asked, her brow arching.
“Right, I meant tequila. What was I thinking?”
Anna licked the salt off her hand and shot back the clear liquid. She picked up the lime and
sucked on it hard, the tart juice squirting into her mouth as she giggled. Harold cringed as he repeated the same actions, choking down the shot as his cheeks flushed bright red.
“Nope, still don’t like it,” he said after he spat out his lime and shuddered. “I’ll never understand how you drink that swill.”
“Compared to your fancy-ass shit?” she said, nodding to his expensive bottle of red wine.
“This is not swill,” he corrected, picking up the bottle and drinking straight from it.
Anna clapped, impressed. “I’ve only seen you do that one other time.”
“And I was with you.” He set the bottle down on the coffee table and his hand drifted to hers where it rested on her leg. He picked it up, his thumb running over her knuckles as he scooted closer. “I was different when I was with you, wasn’t I?”
It wasn’t a question so she didn’t answer. His fingers entwined with hers, and she was captivated by their connection. All this time apart, she expected it to fade, but she felt as if nothing had changed between them.
“I don’t know if I can change,” he admitted, “but I haven’t been happy since you walked out.”
“I thought you were ready to let me go.” She tucked her feet beneath her and remembered that night so vividly in her mind it was as if she walked out only yesterday. “Half of me hoped you would come after me, but you didn’t.”
He puffed out his cheeks and laughed nervously. “Actually, I did.”
“What? When?” Her heart leapt to her throat and she struggled to breathe. “Harold?”
His sudden smile lit up his face and Anna melted. “Harry. I miss you calling me Harry. And I showed up at your bar maybe a week after you left. I stood out in the rain and watched you, but I couldn’t…I couldn’t get myself to go inside. I stood out there and watched as another guy took you away from the bar to comfort you, a guy who should have been me.”
Anna couldn’t believe it. That night, the night she barely remembered because she was drunk on her sadness and tequila. “Johnny. That was the night I was with him.”
