“You know—”
“That I need a shower and to get this over with for both our sakes.” I turn and head for the bedroom, snatching my phone from the coffee table on the way.
I half expect Eric to follow but his cellphone rings, and I fight the urge to turn and find out who’s calling. I need a shower. I need to be dressed. I need some semblance of control and that feels like it comes from my mother. This idea quickens my pace and it’s not long before I’m under the spray of warm water, suds in my hair, and try as I might, I can’t stop thinking about Eric downstairs, about the call that had to be some kind of news I don’t know.
I finish up and once I’m out of the shower, there’s still no Eric. It feels off. It feels like I need to get downstairs. I hurry into the closet, pull on a pair of dark jeans, a lacy pink blouse, and boots. I hurry through my make-up routine and then start drying my hair. That part isn’t fast and it’s driving me nuts. Finally, it’s dry, flat ironed, and I’m about to head downstairs when my cellphone rings. I glance at the caller ID, and the international number sets my heart racing. I grab the phone and quickly answer. “Gigi?”
“Yes. Listen quickly. They’ve found me. I need to tell you before I can’t.”
“Tell me what?”
“I need to,” the line cuts out, “and then,” more static. “Isaac is,” more static. “And your mother knows the truth about Eric. She knows, Harper. I’m sorry, but—” There’s a pounding sound. “Oh God. Oh God. They’re here. It’s over for me.” She sobs. The line does dead.
“Oh my God,” I whisper, and quickly dial Blake.
He answers on the first ring. “Blake, Gigi just called me. I couldn’t make out half of what she said but someone was there for her. She was scared.”
“I picked up the call,” he says. “We’re tracing it. More soon.” He hangs up. Obviously, this is time sensitive. I grab the sink. The truth about Eric. What does that even mean? Well, I know it’s not good. I know that already but why is it that Gigi seems to be warning me of? I don’t understand any of this. I push off the counter and turn to exit the bathroom when Eric appears in the doorway, his hands on either side of the archway. His expression is taut, jaw hard, eyes haunted.
“What happened?”
“He’s dead.”
I jolt with the words. “Your father?”
“Yes. My father.”
Shock radiates through me. He’s lost his father and the fact that he hated him only makes this more confusing to him, painful in ways that torment and cut. And perhaps more devastating. He’s lost the final link to his mother. I close the space between us and wrap my arms around him, holding him, but he doesn’t touch me. He doesn’t move, but I can feel his body humming. I can feel the savant in him, battling to take control and if that part of him wins, I know the numbers will cripple him. And I know this is the part of him that he dreaded me ever seeing.
CHAPTER FORTY
Harper
Lies. We can hide from the truth, but we can’t hide from death. It finds us all, often sooner than we expect .Eric’s father’s death has shaken him. I know this. He still hasn’t moved, hasn’t touched me. “Touch me,” I order, tilting my chin up to look at him. “Let me help.”
“I’m fine,” he says, his eyes steely, the lines of his face all dark shadows and torment.
I reject this answer. I reject his withdrawal, his refusal to let me inside the pain I know that he feels. “You’re not fine and you’re not alone. You don’t do this alone. You don’t feel this without me. I’m here. I’m with you. I’m—”
His hands come down on my shoulders, his forehead settling against mine. “I’m okay.”
“No.” My hands press to his face. “You’re not okay, but you’re not alone either.” He needs to hear that again. I feel it. I know it. I press on his chest, inch back to let him see the truth in my eyes, to let him feel my presence. “I understand every conflicted feeling you have right now. I understand that you need to melt down and you can do that with me. You don’t have to hold back. You don’t have to fear how I’ll react. I—I know it’s soon to say this but I love you and—”
His fingers tangle in my hair. “You love me?”
“Yes. I love you. So very much. You don’t have to love me back. I just want you to know—”
“Baby, I fell in love with you the moment I met you. You’re why I’m still standing right now. You’re why I—breathe.”
Tears pool in my eyes and his mouth closes down on mine, his tongue stroking deep, his kiss hungry, edgy, desperate, but when I would sink into him, when I would pull him deeper into our connection, the doorbell rings. “That’s Savage,” he breathes out, tearing his mouth from mine, the torment of that effort radiating through him into me. “He’s taking you to see your mother. You need to tell her about my father.”
“No.” I wrap my arms around him. “No. I can’t leave you. Not now. Not yet. You didn’t even want to touch me seconds ago. You’re still trying to get a handle on this. You’re not okay.”
He cups my face. “I’m fine. You love me. How can I not be?”
“Eric,” I whisper.
“I’ll be fine until you get back.”