by Mia Sheridan
This Christmas was the first in many years that she’d felt true happiness, something she hadn’t thought she’d feel again. Having this time with the Gallaghers was also feeding another part of her soul. Family. Parents. Not hers, not Jak’s, but a home she felt so welcomed into.
She was startled from her ambling thoughts when a boisterous group of three burst into the room, the woman who looked like a slightly younger version of Laurie talking exuberantly as two boys followed her, also talking excitedly. “It wasn’t supposed to snow today, and I could barely see out of the windshield driving here. I swear, those weather people should—" They all quieted as they caught sight of Harper and Jak sitting in the living room, but after a moment’s pause, they rushed over, introducing themselves. Jak and Harper stood and Pam gave them each a big hug, smothering them against her chest for a moment before letting go, and making Harper laugh in surprise at the enthusiastic show of affection.
The two boys—or rather, young men—Oliver and Benji, introduced themselves, grinning and then giving Jak curious glances as they moved aside. Oliver looked to be in his late teens, and Benji looked to be about eleven or twelve. They both had their mother’s blonde hair, and open smiles.
Mark got everyone drinks and then they chatted for several minutes, laughing and getting to know each other. Pam was as kind as Laurie, but with more of a boisterous, outgoing personality, and her boys were polite and friendly. The Gallaghers had obviously told them a little bit about Jak’s situation because they skirted around introductory questions that would have been awkward. But after they’d been chatting for a while, Benji obviously couldn’t help himself and blurted out, “Have you really lived in the woods all your life?”
There was a moment of silence as all eyes turned to Jak. Jak nodded, seeming slightly tense, but then Benji let out a laugh and said, “That’s so cool. Was it cool?”
Jak nodded very seriously before answering, “Yes, in the winters it was always very cool.”
Harper wanted to simultaneously laugh and shed a tear, and by the looks on the other adult’s faces, they felt the same way. Benji shook his head and looked slightly confused, although his eyes were still shining with interest. “But did you, like, make friends with wolves and stuff?”
A look that Harper couldn’t read passed over Jak’s face, but as quickly as she’d seen it, it was gone, before he answered. “Yes. My best friend was a wolf. His name was Pup.”
“Pup,” Benji repeated, a note of awe in his tone. “Will you tell me about Pup?”
Jak paused, seeming to struggle with the decision before finally answering, “Yes, I’ll tell you about Pup.” Benji grinned, and then Pam asked Harper a question, and her attention was drawn away from Jak.
When Laurie entered the room ten minutes later to tell everyone dinner was ready, Jak and Benji were still standing together, Jak speaking slow and seriously, and Benji gazing up at him with such a blatant expression of hero worship that Harper almost laughed. But with happiness.
They all helped bring dishes from the kitchen and place them on the large mahogany table in the dining room and then joined hands as Mark said a prayer. Harper swore his eyes got just a little misty as he held up his glass, wishing everyone Merry Christmas.
They all began conversing again as dishes were passed around, Harper helping herself to thick slices of turkey, fluffy mashed potatoes, rich gravy and—
She halted, a serving spoonful of stuffing suspended in mid-air as Laurie let out a sound of distress. She looked at Jak, whose fork was also frozen in front of him. And when she looked at his plate, her eyes widened as she tried to make sense of what he was eating, understanding dawning about the sound Laurie had made. On his plate were the half-eaten, raw turkey innards.
“I . . . I left those aside for the dogs,” Laurie said helplessly. Oh God, Harper realized, in the hubbub of the group effort of bringing the food from the kitchen to the dining room, Jak had brought the plate of uncooked meat.
Harper swallowed. The table grew quiet as they all sat frozen, staring at Jak. And then suddenly, a giggle erupted. Benji. Jak’s eyes flew to the boy and Harper saw Pam look sharply at him too. But then her own lip shook as she tried to hold back a laugh, and suddenly more laughter joined in, and it was all so ridiculous that Harper felt a giggle rising in her own chest. Jak looked around one more time and then his own lip quirked upward and he started laughing, softly at first, but then more loudly, his deep chuckle filling the room, warming Harper’s heart as they all collapsed in a fit of giggles.
“Well, what the hell?” Oliver said, breaking off a turkey leg. “If he can eat that, I’m taking the leg. No one’s telling me no this year.” And with that, he brought it to his mouth and took a huge bite, beaming at all of them, to which they only laughed harder.
Two hours later, after eating, and more laughing and talking, Pam and the boys left with hugs all around. Harper excused herself to use the bathroom before she and Jak left and as she was on her way back to the living room, she spotted a portrait hanging in the hall. She stopped, gazing at the beautiful blonde girl who looked so much like her mother.
“Abbi,” Laurie said, coming up behind her. Harper turned, slightly embarrassed though she wasn’t sure why. “She died of leukemia.”
“Yes.” Harper nodded. “Agent—Mark told us about your daughter. I’m so very sorry.”
Laurie looked surprised but then nodded. “Nothing is quite the same without her.”
Harper heard the small break in her voice and the words resonated with her. How often she’d had the same thought about her parents. Nothing, all her life, would ever be the same as it would have been had her parents still been with her.
“Mark was a little worried about having Jak here.” She shook her head. “Not because of the life he’s led, but because he was worried about how it might look as far as the case. We talked about it.” She paused for a moment and a happiness came into her eyes that made Harper wonder if she’d seen the conversation as a move back toward their connection as a couple. She remembered Mark saying how far they’d drifted, and she hoped very much she was right about it being a small step. “We decided it didn’t matter. Our hearts, our souls, would not and could not allow a person without any family to experience loneliness when we could prevent it.”
Harper’s heart warmed at the words. They’d saved her from loneliness too, when she’d felt alone so often in her life, and she was grateful. She once again gazed at Abbi’s picture, taking in the smile of the beautiful girl on the wall who was still so very, very loved.
“You might know, because of your husband’s work, that I lost my parents when I was seven.”
“Yes,” Laurie said, taking Harper’s hand in hers and squeezing it. “I’m so sorry.”
Harper gave her a sad smile, nodding. “I was just wondering if maybe . . .” She shook her head, suddenly feeling silly when she started to put her thought to words. Feeling like she might be stepping out of bounds to say what had entered her mind. Her heart.
“What, dear?” Laurie squeezed her hand again, spurring her on, looking at her with hopeful eyes.
“Well . . . I guess it sounds sort of fantastical, but do you think that if people meet here on earth, the people they’ve loved and lost meet too, because they’re watching over their loved ones? Does that make any sense?”
Tears came to Laurie’s eyes but there was happiness—hope—in her expression. “Yes. Yes, I’d like very much to believe that.”
Harper expelled a relieved breath. “Good, because my parents, they were wonderful, and I’d really love to believe they’re meeting Abbi right now and making her feel as welcome with them as you’ve made me feel here with you tonight.” She blushed, hoping the woman didn’t take what she was saying as a desperate—and perhaps unwanted—attempt to make her invite Harper back again or something like that. She laughed, feeling awkward. “I hope—”
“Oh, my darling girl.” Laurie’s voice broke as she pulled Harper to her in a
big hug. “I can’t tell you how much you’ve filled my heart by saying that. Thank you.”
Then they returned to the room, tearful but smiling, where the men were waiting for them, both with equally perplexed looks on their faces, to which Harper and Laurie responded with another bout of giggles.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
Because of the newly falling snow—and that the plows weren’t out on Christmas—the ride to Harper’s apartment was slow and quiet, though pleasantly so. Harper was basking in the glow of having spent the happiest Christmas she could remember, and Jak looked happy too, a small smile curving his lips as he watched the snow streak by his window.
They pulled in front of the house where she rented a room, and Harper took his hand, laughing as they ran from the truck, the snow a white flurry all around them. She unlocked the door and they spilled inside, Harper taking her finger and bringing it to her lips as they tiptoed up the stairs.
The old house had been converted into a duplex, and the old woman who lived on the main floor was a distant relative of the original owners who had built the home. The studio apartment Harper rented, was up a flight of back stairs and featured a main room, a very small kitchenette, and a bathroom, nothing more. But it worked for Harper’s needs.
She unlocked the door at the top of the stairs, and they entered her apartment, removing coats and scarves, though Jak left his new scarf on. He hadn’t taken it off since he’d received it. Harper loved how much he valued the gift. She was sure he’d keep it on indefinitely.
Harper watched as he looked around, moving from the small tree with twinkle lights in front of the window, to her bed, made up with an antique, handmade quilt she’d bought at an estate sale on the last day when prices for the remaining items had been slashed, to the thrifted furniture items she’d picked up for pennies and painted. He ran a hand over the high pile of books on her nightstand and then he peeked into the tiny kitchen and then the bathroom. She watched him, his eyes moving everywhere with interest. He looked . . . impressed, and she couldn’t help the smile that tilted her lips.
Jak walked to the window that featured a very small false balcony and opened the latch. There was a portico above the window that kept the snow from coming inside, and so although the wind whipped the curtain, the snow fell just beyond them.
“Don’t step onto that balcony,” she warned, coming up beside him. “It isn’t safe.”
He looked over at her and smiled, and then back out to the snow, watching as it swirled and tumbled, the lights of the town twinkling beyond, giving everything a dreamy glow. “It’s so beautiful here,” he said, a note of awe in his voice.
She laughed, wrapping her arms around his bicep and pulling him close, resting her head on his shoulder and looking into the twinkling white. She’d tried to make her small home pretty, despite having little money to spend on pretty things. But she had never considered it beautiful. Homey, yes. Hers, yes. As good as she could do with what little she had. But now, standing there as the lights and the snow blurred in front of her, the wind cold, but the warmth and comfort of home a few footfalls away, she realized it was beautiful. She had everything she needed. She’d done her best, and she was proud that she’d never stopped trying.
“It is, isn’t it?” she whispered, a small hitch in her voice at the emotion the whole night had elicited. She wanted to show him other things, experience everything that, for him, would be brand new—pie in diners at midnight, picnics in sunny parks, late-night movies, and a thousand other things people took for granted. She wanted to watch his face as he took it in, to see the delight in his eyes, the confusion, the understanding. She wanted to watch as he worked things out in that quick mind of his. And yet another part of her wanted him just the way he was, always—innocent, beautiful, untouched, hers.
He shut the window against the cold and turned to her, bringing his hands to her face and looking at her as if she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. “You make me see beauty where I didn’t see it before, Jak,” she said, turning her face and closing her eyes as she kissed his palm. “You make everything new. Even me.”
He tilted his head, and in the dim light of the room, shadows played over the lines of his face, his light eyes burning into hers, the only fire she needed to keep her warm. “Is that good?” he asked. “That I make you new?”
“Yes, it’s very, very good.” She was transforming, she realized, and she still wasn’t certain about all the ways he was helping her to grow, but it felt good. It felt right. Since he’d come into her life, more questions had arisen, and yet, it finally felt like she was figuring out her life when before she had been flailing. Maybe part of it was the deep gratitude he’d opened up in her. Maybe it was her perspective on her own life and the struggles she’d endured. She wasn’t entirely sure yet, but it had everything to do with him. She felt like a blooming flower, gently opening, her petals reaching for the sunlight she hadn’t even realized was there because she’d been curled up so tightly, a bud protecting herself from the very thing she needed to blossom.
“Did you enjoy tonight?” she whispered, her finger moving along the wool of his new scarf.
He nodded. “Yes. Very much.” He looked thoughtful for a moment. “When you were in the kitchen, Agent Gallagher told me about the woman who raised me. He . . . found her. She was a refugee of a war. A . . . real one.” He looked away for a moment. “Isaac Driscoll used her. She was wrong too. But for some reason, I can’t hate her. She gave me what she could.”
Harper regarded him, considering his innate goodness. His gentle heart. Him. “I’m glad you’re getting answers, Jak. You deserve them.”
His eyes met hers, vulnerability filling his expression. “Everyone gave me away. No one kept me.”
Her heart stuttered, squeezed. “I’ll keep you,” she whispered, the words that had spilled from her lips making her feel shy suddenly. She looked down.
He nudged her chin up with his hand so her eyes met his once more. “Promise?” he asked.
She nodded, their gazes holding. And she knew she would. No matter what the future held. No matter whether he decided to keep her or . . . not. He would remain part of her. Forever. She’d keep him. She’d never let him go because she wouldn’t know how.
They stood at the window for a few minutes longer, living in the shared moment of vulnerability, looking out at the dark night. He traced her fingers, his hands moving up her arms, the heat of him all around her. Yes, she wanted him. Wanted every minute of the coming night.
She turned, kissing him slowly and he groaned, pressing himself toward her, their bodies meeting, her softness molding to his hardness so they became one—two perfect parts of a whole. Their tongues tangled and danced, and she pulled away, laughing, and yanking at his scarf. “I know you like this, but if I’m going to kiss you properly, you need to take it off.”
Harper had never seen a scarf come off so quickly.
Her laughter was cut short by his mouth.
They kissed and kissed, their hands roaming, both wearing far too many clothes. Harper felt the proof of his desire and rubbed herself against him. He hissed out a sound of tortured arousal, his lips breaking from hers.
She ran a finger down the scar under his cheekbone, gazing at him, beautiful and fierce and for a moment—but only a moment—she was fearful of the deep need she saw in his gaze. He wanted to take her, to claim her, to mate fiercely and with wild abandon. She saw it in his eyes, in the set of his jaw, but then his expression gentled and the fierceness in his eyes diminished. Her breath came easier, her heartbeat slowed, but something deep inside had spiked in response and then dipped as it faded. She didn’t know what to call it. All she knew was that she wanted him too.
“Take me to bed, Jak,” she murmured. “I want to be with you.”
His eyes widened, and he took one small step back, as if he needed to be able to see her better, to read the expression on her face to know that she meant what he thought she did. “Make love to me
,” she clarified.
“Yes,” he said, and the simplicity of his answer when his eyes burned so bright and his body trembled, made her smile.
He raised his hand and then dropped it. “Where . . . where should we start?”
“Removing our clothes is probably a good place to start.”
His smile was sweet and unsure. Boyish. But he raised his hands and pulled off his shirt, exposing his beautiful chest to her, his scars standing out white and raised in the dim light. She leaned forward, trailing her tongue along one, and then another. He pulled in a breath, bringing his hands to her scalp and dragging his fingers through her hair. She made a purring sound, raising her head and trailing her fingers down his sides.
“Harper,” he moaned, a note of desperation in his tone.
“Yes,” she said, “I know.” This wasn’t going to last long. But after this time, they had all night. The muscles between her legs clenched at the thought.
“This might . . .” He swallowed, seeming suddenly unsure, gathering his control. “We might have a . . .” His brow furrowed and her breath paused. “Offspring,” he finished.
Oh. She exhaled, her heart filling with tenderness. She shook her head. “No. I’m on, uh, I take something so that won’t happen.”
He regarded her quizzically for a moment but then nodded, his eyes heating once more as she began to undress.
She removed her clothes as he watched, his eyes devouring every part of her as it was revealed, his breath releasing in soft pants. A look of such deep approval in his eyes that she felt beautiful. Worshipped.
She took his hand and they walked the few steps to the bed. He pulled off his boots and then his pants so fast a giggle bubbled up in her chest, but died when her gaze fell to his erection, jutting toward her, large and flushed reddish purple with the intensity of his lust. For her.
She swallowed. “Do you know how to do this?” she whispered.