Chapter 78

JASPER

I finished cleaning up our breakfast mess, Harper would have had a fit if I left it like I wanted to. Walking down the hall towards mine and Harper's suite, I noticed the attic door was open, and my steps quickened. The attic was Mother's personal space. She used the attic as a safe space whenever things got unbearable with my father.

When I reached the staircase, I took two steps at a time enraged that anyone could be in the space that me and Mother spent so much time alone in. It was there that most of my fondest memories took place.

The attic was mostly empty, but it was hers. My father never let her decorate or bring much up there. I asked my mother why it was so bare one time, and she gave me an excuse of there being too many steps to bring furniture up but later through my own observations and eavesdropping on one of their arguments, I found out it was because he was controlling.

He didn't want her to have her own space. He said it was a woman's place to clean and look after the children, or child in my case, not to sit isolated writing her stupid stories. My mother loved to write, she spent hours and hours writing fairy tales. Fantasizing a perfect life, one she never got to see come true before life was stolen from her, from me.

When I reached the last step, Harper was sitting in the chair at the old chipped wooden desk. She had one of my mother's many journals in her hand.

"What are you doing in here?" I questioned in a voice that even I didn't recognize. Harper startled and dropped the journal onto the floor.

"I.I… I was just looking. The door was open. I was curious… I'm sorry. I can go." She got up and walked towards the stairs. I reached out and grabbed her with way more force than I intended. I realized it was too hard when her face squinted, and a small hiss escaped her beautiful lips.

Fuck! I fucking hurt her.

"Did I hurt you?" I desperately wanted to hear her say no but my eyes were drawn to the red rings forming on her wrists. She shook her head, but I knew better by the look in her eyes. Her eyes were wide with something I never thought I'd be the cause of … Fear.

I was suddenly so angry, not angry that she was in here, but that I couldn't control my rage enough to be gentle with her. I wanted her here. I asked her to come here to be a part of this fucking process with me. I had no right to react that way.

I stood there looking at her as she rubbed her already scarred wrist, afraid to look me in the eyes. My strong beautiful woman in front of me, her face ridden with fear, and having her fear me completely broke my heart. I felt the lump rising from my throat as I fought back fucking tears as she raced for the stairs.

"Stay, please don't go. I don't think I can do this alone." My voice nearly betrayed me and exposed my emotion in it. I realized that after the way I acted, I didn't have any grounds to ask anything from her. It was clear she didn't owe me that favor, and honestly, I was prepared for her to turn me down.

I watched as she stopped fast and stood frozen. like she was contemplating. She turned to face me as the first tear fell.

Harper's eyes softened and the fear was replaced with something else I didn't fully understand. Concern.

She's too good for me but I'm selfish enough not to care because I wanted her more than I wanted air.

Before I knew it Harper's hands were cupping my face, her thumb was wiping away the only tear I allowed to escape. I have never cried in front of anyone before now. After my mother died, I vowed never to let anyone see me weak, not even my father.

He tried to break me. Mold me into the perfect little prodigy, with the hope that one day I'd take over his empire. He wanted to see me weak, but that's not what this was. It wasn't me showing weakness with Harper, it was me feeling like she was worthy enough to see me vulnerable. It was trust.

I reached up moving hair from her face and pushing it behind her ear. I looked into her eyes and saw understanding where I should have seen anger; She didn't need me to explain or to beg for forgiveness because she understood.

"Harper," I whispered. She nodded, then stood on her tiptoes and kissed me hard. She didn't say it, but it was felt in every sense. Her heart was mine.

"What do you need from me?" she asked cautiously.

"Just be here with me. That's all. Your soul comforts me." I answered honestly.

We walked hand in hand towards the desk. When we got close enough, I pulled the chair back, gesturing for her to sit, but she hesitated. A breath later she sat down. The tiny moment of hesitation made me hate myself for a second time.

Hours passed as the light of day dimmed and was no longer shining through the only window of the attic. She sat there silently, as I organized and packed my mother's entire life into boxes. Each journal contained parts of her. Each thought, word, and sporadic doodle was a part of who she was and the secrets she kept. I couldn't bring myself to open any of them, I will one day and maybe then I'd know the truth.