“Okay, so you’ve woken me up, you’ve ‘protected your sources,’ and you’ve told me that I’m likely to take a beating in the near future at work. Thanks for calling, Xander,” she joked, rolling her eyes as she looked around her bedroom. “Anything else I can do for you?”
“You could come to lunch with me.”
Lowering her eyebrows, Harmony scowled at her reflection in the mirror across the room. Was he asking her out? “Lunch? You want me to come to lunch with you?” she asked.
“Yep, lunch. Midday meal? Some people eat sandwiches, soups, salad; you know the one. Lunch.”
“And you want me to eat lunch with you. Is this like a work thing?” Pushing her blankets aside, Harmony left the warm comfort of her bed and padded toward her closet, the rough-soft combination of the carpet against her bare feet helping to wake her more completely.
“Actually,” Xander said cautiously, “it’s not. I was – sort of – hoping that it could be kind of a date … thing.”
Halting just as she entered the walk-in closet that was filled with her extensive wardrobe, Harmony made a face, trying to decipher the multitude of feelings welling up, trying to make sense of the sudden chaos of her thoughts. She wanted to go; she wanted to say yes to him and embrace the possibility. But, rational fears or not ... could she really let go of them?
“A date thing?” She pursed her lips, flicking her hair over her shoulder and tucking the phone more closely against her ear. He was asking her out. On a date. He was a gentle man with a good sense of humor, one who heated her blood and made her body sing – but he was also a very big man, a giant, extremely strong, extremely athletic man who actually got paid to be scary, and he earned every penny – he could be downright terrifying if he wanted to be.
“Yep. You, me. Alone together?”
Alone together. He wanted to be alone with her ... and the idea of being alone with any man, truly alone, was all it took to send her back to the day that Cameron had had to come home early from college. Back to the biggest tragedy that Harmony had ever encountered in her mostly-sheltered life. Back to the reason she’d spent her teen years focused obsessively on gymnastics instead of boys.
“Mom, I’m home from school!” Harmony had called, slamming the front door closed. She’d smiled to herself, kicking her shoes off in the corner next to the doorway. The smell of her childhood home had always been fresh and clean – the crispness of fresh laundry – familiar, relaxing. Comforting.
But not that day. The sound of choked sobbing from upstairs had drawn her attention, shattering her happy mood and filling her with dread, with concern. It was the sound of mourning, the tragic sound of loss.
“Mom? Mom!” she had shouted, her sock-padded feet thumping lightly up the stairs. “Mom?!” Skidding to a stop in front of her parents’ bedroom door, she’d looked in, surprised to find the room empty. “Mom?” Her gut clenching, she’d followed the sounds of helpless sobbing and moved farther down the hallway, stopping in front of the closed door to what had always been Cameron’s room. What was her mother doing in there? Had something happened to Cameron? What was going on?
Opening the door, Harmony had found her hero – her older sister Cameron – locked in their mother’s embrace. They were crying together; Cameron was sobbing brokenly, her eyes swollen, her face mottled with red as she shoved the dark curls of her hair behind her shoulders. “Mommy?” Harmony had asked, the giant waves of her fear causing her voice to come out small and quiet, causing her to revert to a word she hadn’t used in years.
Eva had jumped, moving slightly away from Cameron as Cameron swiped her fingers over her face. “Oh, honey,” Eva had murmured, taking Harmony’s hand and pulling her down, urging her to sit.
“Mom, what’s wrong? Has something happened?”
Cameron had broken down again, lowering her face, a teardrop sparkling on the tip of her nose before dropping into her lap. She sniffled, scraping the back of one hand roughly over her face, refusing to talk.
“Cameron has –“ Eva’s voice broke away, and she brought a shaky hand to Harmony’s cheek. Harmony had closed her eyes, afraid to listen, but Eva had gone on. “Cameron has had something very bad happen to her.”
“What was it? Did you have a crash?” Harmony turned to her sister, the pain on Cameron’s face wrenching deep in Harmony’s belly. She reached out to touch her, to offer comfort, but Cameron had jerked away, her eyes widening fearfully before she squeezed them shut again.
Turning back to her mother, Harmony had swallowed her terror, her chest aching with the pain of Cameron’s rejection. “Will she be okay again?”
“She’s going to be coming back home to live with us for a while,” Eva had answered softly. “But she’ll be okay again, in time. She’s just going to need some time.”
“I’m sorry something bad happened to you, Cameron,” Harmony had mumbled, confused when her sister refused to even acknowledge her. “Cameron? Mom, why won’t she talk to me?”
“Listen, to me,” Eva had whispered, taking Harmony’s shaky hands in her own, her voice reassuring even as her eyes sparkled with tears. “Cameron’s having a really hard time today. She’s going to be okay though, so I don’t want you to worry. We just need to give her lots of space just now, and lots of patience. You go on down and do your homework, okay? And I’ll come to help you in a little while.”
“Okay, Mom.” A tear had slipped down her cheek as she’d watched her sister struggle to keep herself together. “I hope you get better soon, Cameron,” she’d added, lifting a hand toward her obviously grieving sister, before dropping it uselessly to her side again. Crossing her arms over her stomach to hold down the sick feeling that was sweeping through her, Harmony backed out of the room, closing the door. But as she turned away, she could hear Cameron whimpering, her voice hoarse as she began to sob again.
“He just kept doing it, Mom,” Cameron cried, the broken sound of her voice muffled through the barrier of the bedroom door. “He wouldn’t stop, and I couldn’t move, and all I could do was cry. I couldn’t even scream, and there was no one to help me … I was all alone ...”
“Harmony! Harmony, are you there?” Xander asked, the roughness of his voice tearing Harmony away from the memory of Cameron’s sobbing.
“I’m here, I’m sorry,” Harmony answered, turning and walking back to her bed. “I, um, I thought I heard something,” she lied.
“What? In your apartment? Harmony, are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” she answered. “I’m okay, really. It was nothing.” Moving back to the bed, she sank into the softness of the mattress. It’s all over, Cameron’s over it now. She’s okay. Everything’s okay.
“You promise you’re alright?”
“Yeah,” she said, forcing a smile that lifted her voice with false cheer. “I’m good, I’m okay.”
“Okay. So ... lunch?”
“I can’t, Xander. I’m sorry, but I can’t. I – I have plans for this afternoon.” Ashamed to still be so affected by something that hadn’t even happened to her, Harmony closed her eyes, crawled deeper into the safety of her bed, and buried herself in the blankets. If she couldn’t even handle him asking her out, how was she ever going to move on?
“You sure? I promise, it’s just lunch,” Xander teased. In her mind, Harmony could see his easy smile, his chiseled face, his shocking blue eyes. The gentle man she’d worked with, laughed with. But the image changed, and he wore the face of The Dragon, the AWG alter ego that showcased his strength, his power, his size. The eyes grew cold, the face not just chiseled but hard and angry, with no trace of the dazzling smile.
“I can’t. I just can’t,” Harmony said, unable to reconcile the two images, unable to risk spending time with The Dragon, and unwilling to subject Xander to what she knew were irrational fears. “I’ll see you at work though, okay?”
“Yeah, it’s okay,” he answered quietly. “Maybe another time?”
“Yeah, maybe. I’m sorry, Xander, I ha
ve to go.” Quietly ending the call, Harmony burrowed deeper into the blankets. She’d tried to let it go for years, even letting her guard down and dating safe and sensible Turner McGray last year. She’d thought his gentle nature would help her to let go of her fears, that his passive and quiet personality would help to ease her anxieties, that giving up her virginity in a calculated, passionless moment would take away the fear of having her innocence stolen.
Harmony hadn’t had a flashback in so long, she couldn’t remember the last one; she had thought she was over the old fear. She had thought she’d gotten past the trauma of what had happened to Cameron all those years ago, that if Cameron could let it go and move on with Mac, surely she could move on, too.
But apparently, she’d been wrong.
Apparently, she was just as afraid as she’d always been.
Chapter Seventeen
Two hours later, Harmony froze, still buried in the warmth of her bed. She listened, her cell phone clenched in one hand as the click of the front door lock sounded through the apartment and the door was pushed open.
“Harmony? It’s Whit! You home?” Whitney called.
Harmony sighed, the tension releasing from her body. “I’m in here!”
There was a sigh, followed by the sound of footsteps light on the carpet, and then Whitney was there. Standing in the doorway to Harmony’s bedroom, she braced one shoulder against the door frame. Raising one neatly groomed eyebrow, she waited, silent.
“I told you, you didn’t need to come,” Harmony muttered, sliding to one side of the bed to make room.
“I know, and you said you’re okay too. You don’t look okay,” Whitney answered, moving into the room and sitting easily on the edge of Harmony’s bed. Kicking her shoes off and laying back on the empty half of the bed, she slid under the blanket rolled onto her side, watching Harmony’s face. “Remember when we were little and I’d spend the night at your house? And we’d watch movies in your room all night?”
“This bed seemed a lot bigger when we were teens, didn’t it?” Harmony asked, turning to face Whitney.
“Yeah. And since I’ve known you all this time, and I’m your best friend, I can tell the difference between okay and not okay. And you’re not okay right now, are you?”
“Not really,” Harmony mumbled, throwing an arm over her face, hiding the embarrassed flush that reddened her cheeks.
“Exactly.”
“Thanks for coming, Whitney.”
“Look, we both knew that spare key would come in handy sooner or later. And I don’t mind,” she winked. “I was in the neighborhood anyway.”
Harmony rolled her eyes. “Right. You live on the other side of town.”
“Details, details,” Whitney teased, tugging one of Harmony’s pillows closer and slipping it under her head. “So why don’t you tell me what I’m doing here?” Tucking her hair back from her face, she adjusted the pillow until she found a comfortable position, releasing an exaggerated sigh as she finally stilled.
Sighing too, Harmony lay on her back, keeping her gaze directed toward the ceiling as she whispered, “Xander called me.”
“And then?”
“I was sleeping. So the phone rings, I wake up all groggy and tired and – well, you know how I am when I first wake up. And he just …” Letting her voice trail away, Harmony miserably swiped at her face.
“He just ... what?” Whitney asked.
“He asked me out to lunch.”
“Lunch? With him?”
“Yeah, you know. As a date.”
“He’s a nice guy, Harmony,” Whitney said. “Did he say something that upset you or something?”
“No, that’s the embarrassing part. He was sweet, and we were joking, but then – you know what? I don’t even know what it was that triggered it, but then I guess I was having kind of a flashback. Remembering Cameron, when she first came home from school. And I just freaked out. God, Whit, I feel so stupid. It didn’t even happen to me, it happened to Cameron. What is wrong with me?” Harmony muttered miserably.
“Actually, I saw a documentary the other day about something that made me think of you,” Whitney said. It was about PTSD, like what Cameron had.”
“Yeah, but you have to have actually had something traumatic happen to you in order to have that,” Harmony groaned.
“Not really,” Whitney answered. “The video had a guy on there who talked about secondary PTSD, kind of like PTSD by proxy. It’s actually really common in kids that witness domestic abuse, or who have a sibling get kidnapped or murdered, or –“
“Raped.” Finally, Harmony turned, meeting Whitney’s eyes. “Are you serious? Because that would explain a lot.”
“I know. Maybe all this time, you shouldn’t have been keeping your issues to yourself. It made me wonder if your parents would’ve been able to get you some help with the anxiety stuff.”
“I know, but they had enough to worry about, and Cameron was a wreck. She needed them then more than I did.”
“What about now?” Whitney asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Honestly, just the idea that I’m not making it all up kind of makes me feel a little better,” Harmony said. “Ironic, maybe, but still. Maybe I’ll do some research into it or ask Mac about it or something. I don’t know. Maybe I’ll just keep pretending it isn’t there, and it will go away.”
“Hmph,” Whitney grumbled. “How’s that working for you?”
“Well, I haven’t had a breakdown yet,” Harmony laughed.
“Okay, so what about Xander?”
“I told him no. But you know what, Whit? I wanted to tell him yes, but then … I just couldn’t. I wanted to but I couldn’t.”
“Maybe he’ll ask again.” Sitting up on the edge of the bed, Whitney curled her legs beneath her and pushed the blankets away, inspecting her manicure as she spoke. “I know gymnastics really helped to distract you from everything, competing and training all the time. But what about AWG? Does it help, too?”
“Yeah, a little. I think that’s part of what was so hard about not competing anymore and letting that go. It gave me a lot of empty space in my life, too much time to think. But it helps when I’m working a lot. It’s just when I’m home and I have nothing to do, when some guy is paying attention to me, like today …” Harmony sighed.
“What about Turner? You didn’t have this kind of reaction to him, though.”
“You’re right, I didn’t. Turner was – safe.” Harmony answered, sitting up to meet Whitney’s questioning gaze. Running her fingers through her hair, she sighed. “I mean, I’d known him for years. And he was a gymnast too, so he really understood my dedication and he didn’t question it. We got along well, and he was cute. Always laid-back and –“
“Non-threatening?” Whitney asked, lifting an eyebrow sarcastically.
“Yeah.”
“But Harmony, you can’t think every guy is like that one guy. Every man is not a rapist.” Whitney stood up and moved toward Harmony’s closet, opening the door and disappearing inside.
“I know, but –“
“Harmony, you have to give people a chance. I’m willing to bet that Xander is one of those guys who is totally not a rapist.” As Whitney spoke, a pair of jeans sailed out of the closet, landing smoothly on the foot of Harmony’s bed.
“You don’t know,” Harmony grumbled, carrying the jeans over to the mirror in the corner. Holding them in front of her body, she turned back and forth, watching her reflection as she struck a pose in the mirror. “He could be a total serial killer,” she teased.
“Serial killers are different!” Whitney called from the closet. Hangers slid noisily across the rack as Whitney searched through Harmony’s closet, just before a fitted tank top flew through the closet door and landed on the bed. “Surely he’s not that.”
“I know he’s not … at least, I think he’s not,” Harmony muttered. More loudly, she said, “I can dress myself, in case you didn’t realize!”
Poking her head thr
ough the closet door, Whitney scowled. “Uh huh. I’m a little disinclined to believe you, my friend, since you still don’t have your pants on yet. And we both know that if I didn’t come over here and badger you into dressing cute, you’d just run around in yoga pants and t-shirts.”
“What’s wrong with being comfortable?” Harmony asked, throwing her discarded pajama bottoms on the end of the bed and tugging the slim-fitting jeans over her legs. Shimmying her hips, she dragged the jeans into place and fastened the button, yanking the zipper before reaching for the simple white tank top on the bed. “You know I sleep in this tank, don’t you?”
“Just put it on, it’ll be cute!” Whitney called. “Hang on, I’ll be out in a sec.”
Turning back to the mirror, Harmony quickly tossed her pajama shirt onto the bed and yanked the plain white top over her head, adjusting the elastic of the shelf bra before pulling the fabric down over her flat stomach. “Cute? It’s just white; how is it cute?”
Wrestling Harmony (The Kingsley Series) Page 12