The Strongest Steel

by Scarlett Cole

  But it was there in the way she was looking at him. The way she’d just loved him slowly, her eyes wide open, pupils dilating as they had moved together. She loved him just as much as he loved her. And she was going to walk away from it before he told her.

  The gate attendant made the last call for the flight. He realized she wasn’t going to call him today. And wasn’t that a fucking ass-kicker?

  He boarded the plane, trying to avoid looking at the empty seat next to him, pulled out his phone, and attached the photograph.

  You said you wouldn’t run, Harper. Don’t bail on us yet.

  * * *

  Day one, post Trent, had been a write-off. Drea had run interference with Trent and had let José know the barest bones. Harper had spent it in bed with several industrial-sized boxes of tissues.

  Not even bowls of chicken noodle soup had tempted her to eat.

  Day two had contained minor progress, in the form of a shower and clean pajamas. But the tears still hadn’t stopped, and the pain was a constant pounding in her chest. Words echoed around in her mind. Half-life. Settling. Status quo. All in. It hurt to acknowledge it, but there was something to Trent’s words that resonated every time she repeated them.

  Day three Harper had finally made it downstairs and turned on her phone, but only because Drea had accused her of being like the girl in those vampire novels who spent six miserable months sitting at her window waiting for her love to return. It had made her smile briefly until she saw the eighteen missed calls and eight messages. A quick scan showed they were mostly from Trent. Her heart broke all over again as she forced herself to listen to them, only managing to get through the first four before collapsing on the floor of Drea’s kitchen in tears.

  The alarm clock in Drea’s guest bedroom went off, signaling the start of day four post Trent. Tears weren’t quite as close to the surface, and Harper decided that today was as good as any to try to get back into some semblance of a normal routine.

  The coffee shop was still the same. It was a very bizarre feeling, the rest of the world being exactly as you left it while everything in your own life felt like a grenade had exploded in it.

  José was cautious around her. Her friends said hi and hoped she was feeling better, but Harper felt like an imposter. Customers wanted their food and drinks, and Harper served them on autopilot.

  By late afternoon, Harper was starting to get her head in gear again. A three-day emotional purge had left her with an incredible hangover, but the fog was lifting slowly. Tiredness threatened to consume her, but Harper couldn’t stomach the idea of leaving to go home.

  Thankfully she was supposed to head over to Celine’s house to work with Milo, an appointment she really wanted to keep.

  “Can I get a large Colombian to go?” Harper turned suddenly from steaming the milk and came face-to-face with Cujo. “How you doing? You look like shit, Harper.” He smiled at her softly.

  There was kindness in his eyes. “Thanks. I’ve been better.”

  “Can you get a coffee and come talk with me for a bit?” He didn’t look angry, but looks could be deceiving. She looked around him and then outside.

  “Nah. He’s not with me, Harp. He’s in LA. Had no choice, his contract meant he had to.”

  “Hey, Harper, this guy bothering you?” José came up alongside of her and drew himself up to his full height, which was still no match for Cujo’s.

  Harper was overwhelmed with the support she felt resonating from him.

  “He just wants to talk with me. Is it okay if I take a quick break?”

  “Sure thing. Here, take this. I can make another one.” He handed her a blended coffee.

  Sitting down at a small table in the sunshine, Cujo ran his hand over the top of his head, which was bizarrely showing downy sprits of blond hair. They sat silently for several minutes.

  “He’s out of his mind with worry, you know.” Cujo plucked the lid off his coffee and blew the surface to cool it down. “He needs to know you’re safe.”

  Harper took a sip of the blended iced drink, but it sat like concrete on her tongue, bland and flavorless.

  “Why are you here, Cujo?”

  “Well, at first I was going to give you a lecture on why you shouldn’t have run out on him, but looking at you, I see you already know that. Then I was going to ask you if you could forgive him for being a fucking idiot.” He looked over the rim of his cup as he took a drink.

  “Is he okay?” She needed to know.

  “Stupid question, Harp. He’s as okay as you are.”

  So not okay then.

  “All I’m gonna say is that … look … I know you’ve been through some crazy shit. I can’t even begin to think of all the ways that would normally fuck a human being up. But the difference between you on the first day I saw you in the studio and you the night of your party, before all this shit went down, is night and day. Same for him. You’re made for each other. You’re better people because of each other. It really bothers me that you’re going to fuck up the best thing that could have happened to the two of you.”

  Shit. Tears again. Harper swiped underneath her eye to hold them off and took a good long draw of her drink, hoping the pain of ice on the roof of her mouth would take her mind off the hurt.

  “When did you get all sensitive on me, Cujo?”

  “Aww, Harp. I’m sorry. I don’t want to make you cry, but you’ve got to know he loves you. And because he loves you, he’ll look out for you and protect you. Shit, he’d go to the wall for you. You need to let him.”

  “It’s more complicated than that.” She studied her drink, watching the white cream melt into the blended coffee.

  “No, it’s not. You love him. You told me. It’s incredibly simple.”

  He rubbed his hand back and forth over the blond bristles before standing. Bending down, he kissed the top of her head.

  “I’m gonna call him and tell him I found you and that you look like shit. He’ll come home tomorrow if he can’t get on a flight tonight. Think about what you’re going to say to him.”

  Harper reached for her drink and watched him cross the street.

  “Nice ride, man!” he called out to a biker with a silver helmet sitting on a huge black beast of a bike.

  The helmet bobbed in her direction before the engine revved at deafening levels, speeding out onto the street.

  The ping of her phone got Harper’s attention. She grabbed it, hoping to see Trent’s name.

  Enjoy the rest of your drink, Taylor.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Reid. Harper put the photograph back on her kitchen counter. Sighing, she took a sip of her tea, her hands wrapped around both sides of the mug. Where was he? In spite of everything, she missed him. Missed the boy who had taken down Clinton Baines because he’d put wet grass down the back of her dress. Who’d taken the fall when Harper’s poorly timed throw had smashed the bathroom window.

  He had chosen Nathan over her, and it still didn’t really make sense why. They’d been so very close until the attack. It was perhaps the most heartbreaking part of the whole mess.

  For the first time in years, she had somehow forged an unlikely group of friends. Drea was her rock. Trent’s friends had embraced her as theirs. They knew something horrible had happened but didn’t let that stand in their way of being there for her. Cujo treated her like a sister, reminding her of Reid in the way he teased her. Lia and Pixie sought her advice, took her to their favorite stores, and helped throw that birthday party for her.

  And then there was Trent, who had somehow managed to sneak in past every defense and had taken her heart from her. No one else could make her vibrate with need from a single touch. He had the ability to soothe even her roughest edges. He’d encouraged her to trust him over and over. And although he hadn’t told her, if she read the signs right, he loved her as much as she loved him.

  So what else was there? Sure, she didn’t want him hurt by Nathan, but Trent was a big boy who could take care of himse
lf. Didn’t it say something about him and his character that he wanted to take care of her?

  She didn’t want him to pass up the tremendous opportunity he’d been given for the show. She hadn’t absorbed the details when he had told her. Had she even told him that she was proud of him before leaving him shell-shocked in the restaurant?

  She glanced up at the extra dead bolt she’d had Eddie install yesterday after Detective Lopes had left her apartment. He was focusing on community CCTV camera footage for someone texting from a phone the police had already confirmed as registered in Idaho. He’d also handed her back her laptop, scrubbed clean of the spyware that had been monitoring her computer activity.

  A call to Lydia had confirmed Nathan’s passport was still being held and that he had made his early evening appointment with his probation officer the day before the text. Lydia’s computer was still with an IT specialist, being checked.

  Her hand reached up and gripped the beautiful necklace Trent had designed for her, the beautiful, smooth glass drop with swirls of red and orange to represent the flames on her back … the hottest fire she had withstood. She rubbed it between her fingers like a lucky charm. A talisman to keep her safe.

  Through all the thoughts flickering through her mind at rapid speed, one was resonating the loudest. She needed Trent. More than that, she loved Trent and wanted to be with him.

  She glanced at the clock. If Cujo was right, Trent would likely be landing very soon, cutting short the trip he had planned for the two of them. What if he wasn’t prepared to give her a second chance? Okay, so maybe it was a third or even fourth chance. What if there was an end to his seemingly unlimited patience with her?

  Her phone pinged. Cujo.

  He’s on his way to the studio.

  This was likely the last chance she was going to get to put this right.

  * * *

  He wasn’t going to go to her. A decision he made at the bottom of a bottle. He’d apologized, by text, by voice mail, and had received nothing back from her. The last couple of days had provided some much needed space, but that space hadn’t yet provided clarity.

  Harper knew how he felt about her. He’d put the world on a plate for her before he left, and she’d thrown it back in his face. The irony kept hitting him hard. Yasmin had left because he couldn’t give her anything she wanted. Harper had left because he was trying to give her everything.

  More than anything, the time away had solidified one thing. Trent still loved Harper. That part was simple. Everything else was so fucking complicated that it made his head want to do a Linda Blair.

  Holed up in the office, he stretched out on the sofa and closed his eyes as he waited for Cujo to start his shift. He’d grabbed a six a.m. flight in LA, and it was now close to three. His travel bag was thrown in the corner, and the contents of his messenger bag were spilled out on the table.

  The taxi had been on the way to his condo before he realized that he couldn’t face being there without Harper, so he’d redirected the driver here. It was so hard to face the guys, though. They couldn’t wait to hear details of the show.

  Had it been only a week ago he’d been sitting here thinking he had the world in his hands? It was amazing how quickly the world changed.

  He looked at the blue plastic folder with all the filming locations and details.

  It had been Dred who’d taken him out and gotten him liquored up. As he had stared at the condensation running down the outside of a vodka bottle, Trent had ended up spilling his guts about Harper.

  Stroking his hand along his jaw, he considered whether his stance on not going to see her made sense. Maybe she needed him to show her how much he’d be there for her, no matter what happened.

  The timid knock at the door irritated him.

  “I told you I needed some shut-eye. Please fuck off!”

  He pulled his arm up over his eyes. Another bang at the door, this time more forcefully.

  “What the fuck? Seriously, do you want to get fired?”

  “It’s H … Harper.”

  Trent sat up quickly and rubbed his hands across his face.

  “Can I come in?” Her voice wavered.

  Walking to the door, he flipped the lock and wrenched it open.

  Harper was ghastly pale and looked like she’d lost five pounds. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles. He had thought it would make him feel better to know that she was hurting as much as him, but he was wrong.

  The instinct to pull her to him and wrap her in his arms was strong. It was tearing him up inside to see her like this. She looked as shredded as he felt.

  The light had gone out in her green eyes, but there was a determined look in them as she stood tall in front of him, her right hand gripping her left so hard that her knuckles were white.

  “I need to talk to you, if you’ll let me,” she said softly.

  * * *

  Trent locked the door and sat down on the sofa. Harper sat down next to him and turned to look at him. His face was more stubbly than usual, and his eyes were drawn. No sign of her usually happy man.

  “I’m sorry.” Harper chewed the inside of her lip as she considered her next words carefully. “I know I’ve said that to you a lot, but I am. Very sorry. I know that seems kind of lame for an English teacher, but I’m incredibly short on words right now.”

  She took a deep breath as Trent continued to study her. “I was always scared what would happen if Nathan ever finally found me, but I found out there was something that terrified me more. What he would do to you. I couldn’t risk you. When you told me about the show, all I could imagine was that this could be his tipping point. You know, the thing that pushed him over the edge to move from threats to action.”

  “I won’t let him harm either of us, darlin’. There are things we can do to be careful, to stay safe.”

  Reaching out, she took Trent’s hand in hers, relieved as his thumb brushed against her knuckles.

  “You can’t promise me that, and it’s okay, because I realized something else,” Harper said, taking a deep breath. “You were right. All those things we would have to do to guarantee staying safe do add up to less than a full life. I’d decided not to run, but I hadn’t committed to staying. You were right. I was half in. I’m sorry I made such a mess of this.”

  Trent’s eyes searched her face. “I shouldn’t have pushed you so hard, Harper. You’ve been through enough.”

  “No, don’t you see? You should. I want you to challenge me to be a better person every day. I don’t want you to make allowances for me, or feel sorry for me in some way. And I should do the same for you.”

  “I’m sorry too, Harper. I kept pushing at you to trust me and the reality was, I didn’t trust you either. I lied to you about the trip for a reason.”

  Harper’s pulse started to quicken. “Why? I mean, about what?”

  Trent looked down at their hands. “Because I messed up once before, and I didn’t want it to happen again.” He let go of her hand and ran his fingers through his hair. “I thought I was in love once.”

  A burning sensation flared in Harper’s chest at the thought of another woman in Trent’s life. “What happened?” she asked.

  “Christ, Harper, we were so fucking young. On paper she was perfect. Loved ink, cars, and me, I hoped. We lived in this crappy apartment, and I thought we were on this crazy adventure together.”

  Harper tried to ignore the pangs of jealousy, tried to wrap her arms around her middle until Trent pulled her hand back.

  “No, you don’t, darlin’. I need to tell you this. I wasn’t enough for her. Yasmin left me because I couldn’t give her everything she wanted fast enough.” Trent tugged on her arm and pulled her into his side.

  “The look on her face when she told me that she wasn’t prepared to wait while I built my career.” Trent stopped, shaking his head gently. “She was disappointed in me. It crushed me. I thought I was over it. But when I got the call about the show, I just couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want
to let you down if I didn’t get it.”

  Trent shifted on the sofa and looked at her, his chin trembling as he struggled to regain his composure.

  “I couldn’t handle it if you ever looked at me the way she did, Harper. I should have talked to you about the show before making all those decisions.”

  Harper brushed her lips across his. “You could never disappoint me. I think it’s amazing that you got asked, but even if you hadn’t gotten it, I would still have been proud. In a way, yes, you should have talked to me about it, but it was so early on in our relationship that it really wasn’t any of my business. And even now, I shouldn’t be the one who stands in the way of you achieving something incredible. I want to be the one cheering you on, not stopping you from making it onto the field. I’m just not sure how.”

  Trent lifted her hand and kissed her knuckles softly. “I think we’ll figure it out together.”

  She looked at the strong hand holding hers. “Oh my goodness, what did you do?” Harper asked, eyebrows raised and mouth open as she studied the cuts and bruises.

  “Had a conversation with a streetlight once you got into the cab,” he said, pulling her closer to him.

  “I’m sorry, Trent. I really am. If I blew you and me because of all this, I get it and I don’t blame you. I’m done running. I’m done being scared. I’m done doubting whether you and your friends will help me if I need it. I am done with everything except being in love with you. I—”

  Harper was flipped onto her back and underneath Trent in the blink of an eye.

  “Say it again.” His dark eyes were fierce as he held each side of her face in his big, safe hands.

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “No.” He cut her off. “Not that part. The ‘I love you’ part.”

  “I love you.” Harper had barely gotten the words out of her mouth before Trent’s lips descended on hers. Their mouths clashed together, banging teeth before soothing bitten lips with soft tongues.