Harper slowly grabbed Patrick's hand, gripping it tightly as he slowly looked to her.
"I think your father's right," Patrick said, his voice shaking. His head inching closer to hers.
"About what?" Harper asked. She could feel it. The magnetic pull between them. They were...connecting; connecting on a whole new level that Harper had never experienced. Both of their hearts, beaten and bruised. The loss of a loved one far too soon both wearing heavily on them...day in and day out.
"I see a light in you, too. I don't know what it is. But ever since that day we met, I just...something about you was so...different. I felt instantly in sync with you. When you looked at me, you saw me; you didn't just see the security guy. You saw Patrick," Patrick said as he smiled slightly, his two dimples forming in his cheeks. Harper's heart sped, faster and faster. Maybe it was all of the emotions...the crying? Or maybe it was the craziness of what had happened at the cabin. The thrill of hiding. The thrill of the edge she was standing on as she peeked out through that closet back at Elena and Vera. Harper couldn't stop herself. She leaned forward, wrapping her hand around Patrick's neck, and pulled his face to hers.
Their lips smashed into each other, soft and slow. Patrick's eyes closed as he gently cupped Harper's soft cheeks in his hands, their tongues dancing softly together. Harper clawed her hands through Patrick's hair as he slowly leaned over the center console separating them, his hands wrapping tightly around her, her back pressed tightly against the passenger side door behind her. The heavy rain falling outside...trickling down the window as thunder rumbled above.
Harper pushed the door open behind her as Patrick crawled over the console and out of the car with her...not separating from one another, their lips glued together. The rain fell from above, covering them as Patrick picked Harper up into his arms, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He turned, moving backwards up the walk way towards Harper's apartment as he kicked the passenger door of his car shut. Harper still in his arms, still kissing...still clawing...
Patrick's back slammed against Harper's apartment door. The door swung open, slamming against the wall as Patrick carried Harper through the door, their clothes and bodies soaked. Harper slid off of Patrick as she slammed the door of her apartment shut. Their lips moving together vigorously. Patrick fell backwards and onto the large sofa as Harper crawled on top of him, straddling him. Harper felt her blood boiling inside of her...she couldn't stop; touching, kissing, clawing at his clothes. She wanted it. No. She needed it.
Harper leaned down on top of him, her lips plowing into his, as Patrick pulled her wet shirt off and over her head; her long, wet hair falling down around her shoulders. Patrick sat up, Harper's legs wrapped around him as she pulled his soaked shirt off and dropped it to the floor. Harper sucked along his neck and down towards his chest as Patrick's hands clawed at her bare back. He unhooked her bra, ripping it off as it fell to the wood floor. Patrick then turned, pinning Harper down onto the couch. He was on top now. He was in control. And for once in her life, Harper had no problem with that. Harper's bare chest rose and fell, faster and faster as Patrick pulled her jeans and panties down and off of her ankles.
Harper sat up on the couch, Patrick sitting up in front of her, his knees on the couch, her head at his belly button. His body was fantastic. A set of soft abs lined his abdomen. His sharp, hard v-line sat above his jean’s waistband. She ripped his zipper down and pulled his boxers down along his muscular thighs to see his hard, throbbing member in front of her. She didn't want foreplay. She didn't want to waste any more time. She wanted Patrick...now. Right here and right now. Their bodies, hot and wet from the rain outside...
Harper cupped his cock softly and pulled him towards her as he kicked his boxers and jeans off to the floor below. Harper stared up at Patrick as he slowly inserted himself into her, biting her lip as she watched his hands claw at her thighs that were wrapped around his bare waist. Harper's head tilted back, her eyes closed in ecstasy as Patrick moved, faster and faster inside of her...thrusting harder and harder into her. Patrick leaded down, kissing her passionately...his tongue running along her neck...his teeth nibbling at her ear...his hot breath spreading along her collar bone. Harper clawed at his bare back as he moved, faster and faster.
Patrick's hands massaged Harper's bouncing breasts as he stared down at her, staring deep into her blue eyes as he fucked her, hard and rough. He leaned down, sucking on her nipples...teasing them with his teeth as Harper moaned, louder and louder...her toes curling as he hit every right spot inside of her. Patrick pinned Harper's hands above her head...as his face tightened slightly...fucking her harder and harder...faster and faster.
"Oh, yeah! Oh, fuck! Oh, Patrick!" Harper said, breathless. She could feel herself starting to cum as his long, thick shaft moved inside of her. She was going to erupt...she couldn't hold it anymore. Harper moaned louder and louder with Patrick as he tossed his head back. Patrick's mouth widened as he slowly erupted into Harper. Her lips parted, her eyes squeezed tightly...as she felt herself cum, more and more. Patrick fell forward on top of Harper, both breathless. Their eyes closed. Their bodies, soaked with sweat. Patrick slowly rolled off of Harper and laid down beside her, both of their bare bodies beside each other. Harper's eyes slowly fluttered open as she stared up at the ceiling fan above, spinning around and around.
"That was unexpected," Patrick said with a smile. Harper couldn't help but giggle as she turned onto her side and rested her head onto Patrick's chest. He smiled as he wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close to his side. Harper could not believe what she had just done; something so reckless and crazy. But...she didn't feel the way she did after she had sex with Grayson. She didn't feel...dirty or cheap. She felt...weightless. She felt...comfortable...her head resting on Patrick's chest, his strong arm around her. She wasn't embarrassed of the small stretch marks on her thighs or her messy, tangled, wet hair matted to her face. She felt accepted with Patrick. As if she didn't have to hide anything.
"Is this the part where you leave and never talk to me again?" Harper asked with a small giggle. Patrick smiled at her, his eyes squinting in the light.
"Is that your way of telling me to leave?" Patrick asked with a smirk.
"No! It's just...I feel like that's what always happens nowadays with everyone," Harper said as she shrugged.
"Well, I'm not everyone, now am I?" Patrick asked as he gently kissed Harper's forehead. Harper felt her cheeks grow red as she blushed. She could lay like this all night...right here in this spot. It all felt so perfect. The thunder rumbling outside. The lighting flashing through the curtains. The rain pounding along the roof above. Patrick holding her tightly by his side. She felt as if nothing could touch her. As if all of her problems had suddenly disappeared; Delilah, Elena, Vera, and Grayson. All of her worries, gone...
"I'm sorry about what I said. You know your sister better than I do. I shouldn't have..." Harper began.
"No, you have every right to believe what you want to believe," Patrick said as he slowly sat up beside Harper, staring down at her. "I just can't get up. And with everything that's happened tonight...I don't know what to even believe anymore," Patrick added as he stood.
Harper slowly grabbed the blanket draped around the back of the couch and wrapped it around her body as she stood. Patrick pulled his boxers and jeans on as Harper made her way to the kitchen and put a tea kettle onto the stove.
"Do you want some tea?" Harper asked through the doorway. She turned to see Patrick leaning against the doorway, slipping his shirt on.
"I was actually going to make an ice cream run," Patrick said with a smile. "Chocolate or vanilla?" Patrick asked.
"Rocky road, actually," Harper smiled as she inched towards him and kissed him softly.
"You got it," Patrick said as he turned and headed towards the door. "I'll be back!" he said over his shoulder as he pulled the front door open and stepped out of Harper's apartment.
The rain was still falling heavily. Light
ing flashed through the sky as Patrick jogged down the walkway and towards his car parked along the curb.
"God damn," Patrick snapped as the heavy rain above soaked him within seconds. Patrick yanked the driver’s side door open and plopped into the driver’s seat, water dripping from his shaggy hair and down his cheeks. He put the key into the ignition as something in his rear-view mirror caught his eye...
Patrick squinted in the darkness...the rain pounding harder and harder against the roof of his car...as he stared into the rear-view mirror. Patrick slowly turned in the driver’s seat...
And his eyes widened...
To see the cryptic message written in the condensation along the rear windshield inside of the car. Small water droplets...dripping from the letters that stared back at him. He blinked twice, making sure that the writing was still there...and it was...right in front of his very eyes.
"SHE HAS SECRETS TOO..."
Wish You Were Here
Harper squinted in the sunlight as the rays danced across her duvet. She stretched, raising her arms above her head as her matted hair spread along her satin pillow case. And that's when she remembered last night.
Her and Patrick had made love. He said he was going to get them ice cream...but he never came back. Did she say something wrong? Or was Patrick just using her this entire time just to get into her pants? But Harper knew deep down that Patrick wasn't like that. There had to be a good reason. Maybe a family emergency? Harper could feel her stomach turn as she sat up in her bed and reached for her cellphone plugged into the charger. She brought her phone to her, the charger cord stretching tighter and tighter along the edge of her bedside table.
There was no message. There was no missed phone call. Zip. She slowly pressed onto Patrick's name under her contacts and brought the phone to her ear. She listened as the line rang and rang. Straight to voice mail.
Was she making excuses? Was she tricking herself into thinking that Patrick didn't just do a hit and run? Because from the looks of the situation, it seemed that way. But she didn't want to believe it. Maybe she went too fast? Maybe they shouldn't have had sex. But she couldn't stop herself last night. After seeing Elena and Vera, her senses were kicked into overdrive. It was like the thrill...the risk...it all got to her. The edge of it all slowly stripping her clothes off one piece at a time. She couldn't resist it all. The moment was so perfect. But was that Patrick's plan? Harper pushed the twisted scenario out of her head as she swung her legs over the side of bed and her bare feet touched the cold hardwood floor.
She already had so much on her mind; Delilah, the video in the cabin, and that blood stain. And then there was Elena and Vera having their secret affair. All of this had been weighing so heavily on her lately. There was only one person she wanted to talk to. There was only one person who could easily help her clear her head; who could easily help her find all the right answers...
Harper slipped on a pair of torn jeans and a black tank top as she tied her tangled hair into a ponytail. She snatched her keys from the counter and was on her way.
Harper stared through the windshield as she slowly pulled through the entry gate of the Briar Grove Cemetery. She knew exactly where her father was; block nine, row three, grave number two. Harper shook her head as she thought to herself; how someone's life boils down to damn number in the end. But she never forgot it. She used to come out here once a week. And then it turned to once a month...and now, she couldn't remember the last time she had been out here. The pain never truly goes away. It just gets easier with time. The hurt and sadness scabs over...but the cut beneath will always be there...deeper than you can ever even imagine. The bouquet of sunflowers trembled in her hands as she stepped out of her car and inched down the row of headstones surrounding her. There it was. A beautiful marble headstone with vines carved intricately along the base and up the sides. Her father's name, Thomas Van Der Bell, carved along the top. She stared down at the dry, dead sunflowers that she had brought a few months ago. Their petals wilted and shriveled. They looked as if a single gust of wind could shatter them into a million pieces.
Harper slowly sat down onto the plush grass in front of her father's gravestone. She grabbed the dead sunflowers as the petals and stems slowly disintegrated under her gentle touch. She slowly traded them out, placing the new sunflowers into the same position along the base.
"I know it's been a while, dad," Harper said softly as she tried to hold back the tears collecting in her eyes. "I didn't mean to be gone so long," Harper said with a soft smirk. "You always said I had a terrible sense of time. Well, you sure were right about that," she continued.
She slowly reached forward as her soft fingertips ran down the side of the smooth marble stone. If only she could feel him. If only she could touch his wrinkled face one last time. If only she could smell his aftershave or, god forbid, even his gnarly morning coffee breath one last time. Just something...just one last thing to hang onto to.
"Ever since I took this job, I feel like I'm losing my mind," Harper said as a tear trickled down her cheek. "I don't know what to believe anymore. Maybe I should just...quit. Maybe I should just let all of it go and forget about any of it. Forget about Delilah...who may or may not be dead. But I know if that was me...if there was any single fraction of a chance that somebody hurt me...I'd want someone to find out the truth. I wouldn't want to just be forgotten," Harper said softly. "You always said I was stubborn. You always said I made everybody else's problems my own. Maybe I'm too naive. Maybe I'm stupid. But...I feel like something inside of me just feeds off of that. I've been through a lot and I've never let it taint me. I've never let it harden my heart. In the end, no matter how many times I've been wrong or how many times I've been stepped on, I always...I always feel that there's always a way for me to help," Harper said through her tears, her voice trembling more and more. "But I'm not ashamed of it. Because as tough as you always acted, as hard and as stern as you always pretended to be. I always knew that you were the same as me. You just hid it better," Harper smirked as she ran her hand under her running nose. "I wish you were here...so you could just tell me what to do. I mean, we both know I'd probably ignore you and do whatever I wanted to do, anyway. But it'd be nice to hear it. No matter how much I'd hate what you would have to say...I'd still kill to hear it now...one more time," Harper said as she hung her head down, staring into her lap at the wilted flowers in her lap.
"Harper?" a deep voice called behind her. Harper quickly glanced back to see Grayson slowly inching towards her.
"Grayson? What are you doing here?" Harper quickly stood up as she brushed the grass off of her backside.
"Probably the same thing you are," Grayson smiled softly as Harper's eyes drifted to the bright yellow sunflowers in his own hand.
"Sunflowers?" Harper asked with a soft smile.
"They were my mom's favorite," Grayson nodded softly.
"They were my dad's, too," Harper said as she motioned back to her father's headstone. Grayson slowly stepped up beside her as she turned with him towards it.
"Thomas Van Der Bell, you raised quite a young lady," Grayson said with a smile as he read the stone. Harper couldn't help but giggle as she looked to Grayson.
"I'm sure you really mean that," Harper said sarcastically.
"Well, you did rip me a new one last night," Grayson laughed with a shrug. "But I respect that in people; brutal honesty. That's what I need to hear sometimes," Grayson added as he looked to Harper beside him.
"I think we all need our heads pulled out of our asses every once and a while," Harper smirked as Grayson smiled widely.
"You showed me yours, I'll show you mine," Grayson said with a wink as he slowly walked down the row of graves and away from Harper. Harper hesitated...and then walked forward, following close behind Grayson.
Grayson slowly stopped at a grave near the last row along the edge of the cemetery. Harper stepped up beside him as he placed the sunflowers onto a beautiful pearly white headstone.
"R
ichard and Maria Livingston; loving mother and father," Harper read as she stared down at the headstone.
"I am their spawn of Satan," Grayson giggled as he glanced to Harper beside him.
"Well, you've shed your horns...your halo will take time to reappear," Harper laughed as she patted his muscular back.
"I was thirteen when they died," Grayson said as his smile disappeared, his eyes locked on the headstone.
"What happened?" Harper asked.
"Car accident. They were out for the night at a Christmas Eve party. A drunk driver came and hit them head on. Their car rolled off the bridge and into a frozen lake. When they pulled them out, it was too late," Grayson said as he bit his lip.
"I'm so sorry, Harper said as she shook her head to herself. "You were so young," Harper added.
"It really fucked me up," Grayson said as he tried to smile through the tears he was holding back. "I bounced around from foster home to foster home for a while. It was rough growing up. But I wouldn't change it for the world. That's why I work so hard now. Because if anything ever happens to me...I want Rosie and Elena to be set...to not have to worry about anything for the rest of their lives," Grayson said.
Harper couldn't believe the side of Grayson that she was seeing. He truly was being sincere. He did want to change. Maybe she was too hard on him before. She now saw the evil that created the monster that he once was. Losing his parents...going from home to home...it had to tear him up...it had to poison his soul just a little bit. It made more sense, now; him and his old, wicked ways.
Don't Tell a Soul Page 7
