Breaking Clear (Full Hearts Series Book 3)

by MJ Summers

  Evan nodded. “The last thing I would ever want to do is hurt you, Harper. I can stay away from you if that’s what you need. I won’t like it, but I will.”

  “I think that’s what I need. My life is really a mess right now. I wouldn’t be good for anyone, like this.”

  “Okay. At least I can enjoy the fact that I was right. I’ll always have that.” He bumped her playfully with his shoulder, hoping to lighten the mood. “If you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

  “I won’t.”

  Evan swallowed hard. His heart had been in his throat as he made this one last offer, but now it had sunk down to his gut. Giving her a soft, slow kiss on the cheek, he drank in the scent of her one last time. “Take care. You call if you need anything.”

  “Thanks. You too.” Harper’s eyes mirrored the sadness he was feeling.

  He stared at her for a moment before he turned and walked away.

  * * *

  That night, Harper collapsed onto her bed with a loud groan. Why the hell had she gone with him last night? It would have been so much easier if she had never slept with him. She’d been better off dreaming about him than knowing what it was like to be with him and needing to forget. Her time with him had been more incredible than she’d thought possible, so much more than she’d experienced with any other man.

  It wasn’t just his amazing body. It wasn’t just how their bodies moved together, so perfectly in sync. It wasn’t just the pleasure he gave her. It was the way he looked at her, the way he kissed her, the way he touched her. He made her feel like she was the only woman who had ever existed. He had taken her away, let her escape her life. And for the briefest of moments, she had felt loved and adored. She’d fallen asleep in his arms knowing the dreams she would have that night would be nothing compared to the one she was living. And then, in a blink, reality had set in, leaving her a hot mess. Tears of frustration streamed down her cheeks and into her hair. What the hell was she doing here? She should be back in New York, out with her friends or in her office, busy. Instead she was alone with her thoughts all day and night. And tonight, her thoughts were torturing her.

  Thirteen

  “Dad, this is Dr. Chan, the psychologist that Dr. Smyth recommended.”

  “No thank you, Dr. Chan. I already told Dr. Smyth and my daughter here that I don’t want to talk about how I’m feeling.”

  Dr. Chan gave him a friendly smile. “That’s okay. I’ll just sit here anyway. Your daughter has prepaid for five sessions at one hundred and eighty dollars an hour. But if you want to spend her money in silence, that’s fine too.”

  “That’s almost a thousand dollars!” Roy turned to Harper with wide eyes. “What the hell, kid?”

  “I figured this would be the only way to get you to agree to it. We talked about this, Dad. And you need this.” Harper stared him down. “I’m going to sit in the hall for the next hour. Don’t waste my money.”

  She gave Dr. Chan a little wink on her way out.

  An hour later, Dr. Chan opened the door. Light spilled out into the hallway from Roy’s room.

  “You got him to open the curtains?”

  “No, I opened them. That’s the advantage of having him in that bed. He couldn’t stop me.”

  “Did he talk?”

  “Yes. Opening the curtains certainly got him talking. I’ll be back in two days. I’d like to come back twice a week for now.”

  “Thank you. Whatever we can do to help him.”

  “Harper, I know you want to respect your father’s wishes, but you also have to be careful not to feed into his depression out of kindness. You may need to make choices for him that he won’t make for himself right now. Start with simple things, like letting some light into the room, bringing in a radio or some CDs. Play his favourite music or, if he likes, talk-radio programs. That type of thing. He needs to keep his mind busy so he doesn’t spiral any further.”

  “Okay, I will,” Harper said. “Thank you, doctor.”

  “You’re welcome. And one last thing. Make sure you take care of yourself so his current state doesn’t start to adversely affect you. Do you have a good support system here?”

  “I do. I have some good friends here, and my brothers.”

  “Good. You let me know if you ever need to talk.”

  * * *

  Later that day, Harper found herself wandering the aisles of the supermarket, pondering dinner, when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Monica, an old friend from high school, who had been among the concert-goers. The pair exchanged pleasant hellos.

  “Crazy how we haven’t seen each other in years, then twice in a week,” Monica remarked. “That was a great concert the other night. Did you all have fun at the pub? I was sorry I had to miss it.”

  “I didn’t stay too long, actually. We’ll have to do it sometime when you and Megan can both be there.” Harper smiled.

  “I would love that. I don’t get out nearly as much as I’d like since Jayden was born,” Monica answered. “Say, I wanted to ask you about something Brent told me at the concert.”

  Harper stiffened at the mention of Brent’s name.

  “He said you’re going to be in town for a few months, maybe? Is that right?”

  “Yes, it looks like it. I’m staying as long as my dad needs me,” Harper answered, her shoulders relaxing.

  Monica wrinkled up her nose as though she weren’t sure if she should ask her next question. “I’m wondering if you might have a little free time. I’m starting a chapter of Fashion Forward here. It’s an organization that helps women find employment. One of the things we do is provide them with business attire for interviews. I could really use an expert on staff.”

  “That’s a great cause! We ran an article about it last year. I would love to be a part of it. Right now I actually have nothing but time on my hands. My dad won’t be out of the hospital for weeks.”

  “Really? That’s so great! Well, not about your dad, I mean. I’m sorry for what he’s going through. I’m just really relieved you said yes. I’ve rounded up a lot of dress clothes, but I honestly don’t know how to put together the right looks and accessorize them.”

  “Well, that’s something I do know,” Harper answered, just as Monica’s cell rang.

  “Shoot. I have to take this. I’ll get your number from Meg so we can get together, okay?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  Fourteen

  Harper and Evan managed to avoid each other over the next two weeks in spite of both their proximity and their longing for one another. The weather had allowed Evan to spend long days working. Even though things were going smoothly at the site, he found himself short-fused and grouchy. Then he felt angry at himself for his mood, which led him to wonder how long it would take before Harper was out of his system. On the weekend, he loaded Boots into the truck and drove a few hours out of town to go solo climbing and camping. He hoped the distance and distraction would lessen his yearning for her, but it did not have the desired effect. Instead, he found himself tossing and turning in his tent, thinking of Harper when he should have been sleeping. As much as he wished he could just forget what had happened, there would be no free pass this time.

  For her part, Harper split her days between readying the house for her father’s return and meeting with Monica to finalize things at the Fashion Forward headquarters. Grateful that she now had a lot to accomplish, she woke each morning with a sense of purpose that helped push aside the horrible tugging at her heart when she first opened her eyes. With mere days until the opening, the office was a whirlwind of activity, with its four volunteers trying to get word out about the charity as well as making last-minute preparations. Megan joined them to take photos for the website. Excitement and a sense of community filled the air as they worked.

  On opening day, everything had been set up and exhilaration flowed. The space held racks of outfits that were already coordinated and arranged by colour and size. A small play area, with dona
ted toys and child-sized tables and chairs, had been created. The smell of fresh coffee and warm donuts welcomed clients. Four women were already booked in and three more came in without appointments. Monica introduced Harper to the clients as their personal stylist, making sure to provide Harper’s credentials. Each woman received two new outfits complete with shoes, a dress coat, a purse and accessories. Harper coached each of the women on the secrets of makeup application and how to carry themselves with confidence. By the time they walked out the door, she made sure it was with their heads held high. Hair salons from around the city gave away gift cards for services to provide the final touches.

  Monica and a couple of other volunteers sat at small desks assisting clients with fixing up their resumés and writing cover letters. Optimism was the order of the day, and the buzz of excitement that had started the morning hadn’t worn off by the time they closed up. The friends sat around the desks, tired but filled with a sense of accomplishment as they talked about how well things had gone.

  “Thank you so much, Harper. You’re absolutely perfect for this work,” Monica said. “We’re so lucky you came on board.”

  “Thank you for asking me. It’s funny, really. When I worked for Style, one of my favourite things was seeing real women wearing the looks we’d put together for our photo shoots, but it wouldn’t be until months later. And I didn’t get to meet them. I just had to hope they had gotten a little lift from looking good. But this is so personal and so immediate. It’s just wonderful.”

  “Wonderful enough that you might stay?” Monica’s eyes were hopeful.

  Harper beamed. “How about I’ll be here as much as I can until I leave?”

  “We’ll take what we can get.”

  * * *

  Returning home that night, Harper went over her to-do list for the house. She vowed to get the house ready as soon as possible so her dad wouldn’t have to spend a minute longer than was necessary at the hospital. She had hired a handyman to widen the bathroom door and put up bars above the bathtub. He helped her move Roy’s bed into storage in the basement so a hospital bed could take its place.

  Going to visit him early Friday morning, she spotted Dr. Smyth standing at the nursing station, filling in some charts. She stood beside him, setting down a box of donuts for the staff. Ignoring the donuts, the nurses and Dr. Smyth all stared at her, grinning from ear to ear.

  “What? They’re just donuts. Honestly, I’m not even sure how fresh they are. I had one on the way over. It was mediocre at best.”

  Dr. Smyth spoke up. “I think you should go see your dad. He’s waiting to show you something.” He nodded toward Roy’s hospital room.

  “Is it . . . ?” she whispered, too overcome by hope and emotion to go on.

  “It’s not my news to give,” Dr. Smyth said, pointing to Roy’s door.

  Harper hurried into his room and found her dad staring down at his feet. The blanket had been pulled up, revealing his bare toes. He beamed as he pointed down. “Check out my new trick.”

  He wiggled the toes of both feet.

  “Oh, Dad! That’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever seen anyone do!” Harper gave him a huge hug, tears flowing down her face.

  “I agree. Those wiggling toes are pure hope!” Roy’s eyes were shining as he clapped his hands together.

  An hour later, Harper walked down the hall to the elevator with an extra skip in her step. She was stopped by Dr. Smyth’s voice.

  “Harper! Hang on a second,” he said, jogging toward her. “I’m glad I caught you.”

  She watched him as he neared. He was very handsome. Blond, with intensely green eyes and a warmth about him. His lab coat did little to hide the fact that he was some type of fitness buff. “So, that’s some terrific news about my dad, Dr. Smyth! Thank you so much for everything!”

  “So far I haven’t been able to do much, but now I think I might be able to. I just got off the phone with the patient coordinator at the Rosewood Rehab Clinic. We might have an opening for Roy there. It would be a huge benefit to him. Twenty-four hour care, on-site occupational and physical therapy. Six weeks there would save him about four months of recovery at home. I’m there twice a week, so I can keep an eye on his progress. Now that we’re seeing some of the feeling return to his legs, it would be the best place for him.”

  “Really? That sounds wonderful.” She hesitated for a moment before asking the question that had immediately popped into her mind. “Would this be covered under workers’ compensation?”

  A flash of understanding crossed Dr. Smyth’s face. “Right. Workers’ compensation covers everything right up to the point of maximum recovery.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Meaning I have to fill out a stack of forms as long as my arm, but with the nature of his injuries and the way the accident happened, I can’t see why it wouldn’t be covered.”

  “Thank you so much!” Harper exclaimed.

  “Don’t thank me yet. It’s not a guarantee. The other problem is that I won’t know for a few days if he can get in, so you’ll need to be ready for him to come home next week just in case. There’s no sense in keeping him here if we don’t have to.”

  “The house should be ready in four days. I have a fellow coming by to help me build the ramp tomorrow. The only hold-up will be the adjustable bed, but they’ve promised to deliver it on Tuesday.”

  “Excellent. With any luck, he’ll be transferred to Rosewood instead, but it’ll be good to have the option open. I’ll call to let you know as soon as I hear from the coordinator over there.”

  Fifteen

  The next morning Harper woke to her alarm, expecting Sven, the handyman, to be there by 8 a.m. He’d agreed to come on a Saturday since the work needed to be done in short order. She dressed quickly and made a pot of coffee. Checking the time, she realized it was after eight now and there was still no sign of him. She flipped through an issue of Vogue while she ate breakfast. As she was clearing her dishes, the phone finally rang. Sven was calling to say he couldn’t make it. He had been offered a much larger project and would be tied up for the next couple of weeks and no, he didn’t know anyone else she could ask, but he was sorry all the same.

  She glanced in the direction of Evan’s house, momentarily feeling desperate enough to call him, but knowing that would only end badly. He’d be nice to her and she’d make sure they ended up in bed together. She spent the next couple of hours searching the Web for help, only to come up empty. Now what was she going to do?

  As she sat stewing away, her phone rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Harper. It’s Gordon Smyth calling.”

  “Oh, hi, Dr. Smyth.”

  “I was just filling out these workers’ compensation forms and I realized there are a few blanks I’ll need you to fill in for me. I wanted to let you know that I’ll leave them at the front desk, so be sure to get them when you’re in next.”

  “Thanks. I was just about to come by. My ex-handyman called this morning to tell me he’s not showing up to build the ramp, so I thought I should pop in to see my dad.”

  “Well, I’m pretty good with tools. Why don’t I come by to help?”

  “Seriously?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised. I happen to know which end of the hammer to hold.” His tone was light.

  “That would be wonderful, actually.” Harper answered. “Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I have the afternoon off and I’d be happy to come on one condition.”

  “Name it.”

  “Call me Gordon.”

  * * *

  Three hours later, Gordon arrived as promised. He was dressed casually in khaki shorts and a black T-shirt. In his hand was a six-pack of beer. “Building and beer seem to go together,” he said as Harper let him in.

  The two stepped out into the yard, finding the pile of brackets, boards and screws waiting for them. She handed him the instructions and went back inside to pour their beers into frosty mugs. When she came out, she glan
ced over the low fence at Evan’s yard, and her heart skipped a beat to see him standing on his deck. He gave her a long, serious look and a little nod before going back into the house. Shit. He’d seen Gordon and now he would have the wrong idea. Or maybe he’d gotten the right idea? Why would Gordon be here if he wasn’t at least a little bit interested in her?

  As the afternoon wore on, Evan mowed his lawn and carefully pruned the shrubs in his yard. If she wasn’t mistaken, it seemed as though he were keeping an eye on her and Gordon. Every time Harper glanced over, she felt a tug of guilt and had to remind herself they had both agreed that staying away from each other was for the best. Even if he was incredibly sexy. Even if she did want to climb the fence and rip his clothes off. She needed to forget him.

  “Nurse, can you hold that here for a second?” Gordon teased, positioning one of the boards over the brackets he had set up.

  “Yes, doctor. Sponge?” she joked back as she held the board for him.

  Just as he lifted the hammer to secure the board’s precut grooves into the bracket, a coughing sound came from Evan’s yard. Harper was distracted by the noise and looked up, moving the board as she did. This caused Gordon to hammer his thumb instead of the wood.

  “Ah, fuck!” he cursed as blood immediately pooled under his nail.

  “Oh my God! I am so sorry!” she exclaimed. “Can I get you some ice?”

  “No, it’s fine, really.” He winced, holding his thumb with his other hand, annoyance flashing across his face.

  “I’m so sorry. I just got distracted for a second. Can I do anything to help?” Harper asked quickly, her cheeks turning red with embarrassment.

  He shook his head. “No, it’s nothing.” He picked up the hammer. “Just don’t move the board again,” he said, trying to sound as though he were joking.

  One pound of the hammer was enough. “Nope. Sorry, Harper, I don’t think I can finish this today. I’m going to go into work and cauterize it to relieve the pressure. Maybe I can come by tomorrow night or sometime soon to help you get this done.” He stood and swiped his keys and cellphone off the deck.