24. Harper

24

HARPER

I dragged my ass home after a long day of work and flopped on the couch. Just as I closed my eyes, the front door opened and Oliver walked in. I didn't need to see him to know it was him. One, we were the only people who lived here. And two, he smelled like the garage.

"I really don't want to fight," I muttered, pressing my hand to my forehead.

"Neither do I."

Peeling my eyes open, I watched as he took the seat beside me and grabbed my hand. "I'm sorry about yesterday."

"That you left or because of what we fought over?"

"Both."

Sighing, he twisted to face me. "Harper, I need you to tell me what's going on. I hate that there's this rift between us."

"Not between us," I corrected. "It's just…"

"Just what?"

"I'm not sure you want to know."

"Because you think I can't handle it?"

Or maybe I didn't want to face what he would think of me when he found out. "Because…I'm not ready to talk about it. But I promise that when I am, you'll be the first and probably the only person I tell. "

He sighed, dropping his head back on the couch. "I hate this."

"I know."

He rolled his head to face me. "Are you going to Edu's tonight?"

I shook my head. "No plans to."

"Movie night?"

"I could go for that," I grinned, even though I felt like going to sleep and ignoring my life. I hadn't gotten any of my chores done yesterday since I left when I was supposed to be here. "But I need to put in laundry first or you'll have to smell me for a week."

"I'm used to that," he teased.

I pulled myself off the couch, then went into my bedroom and gathered all my laundry. There was more than one load to do, which just made me tired thinking about it. After putting one load in, I showered to get the smell of work off me, and as soon as I was done, Oliver took his shower.

There was nothing in the house to eat, so I sat down with a full container of Oreos and a glass of milk.

"I hope you're planning on sharing that with me," Oliver muttered as he walked into the room, drying his hair with a towel.

"I hadn't planned on it."

"Not cooking tonight, squirt?"

"Why is it my job to cook?"

"Because you're the woman."

"And?"

He shot me a funny look. "And women cook. It's a thing."

"It's only a thing for married couples, and I'm pretty sure it's not even a thing anymore. Men do just as much of the household chores as the women."

I knew he was just teasing me, but I liked our little debates. He flopped down on the couch and snatched one of my cookies, dunking it in my milk.

"Hey! That's my milk. It's contaminated now!"

He shoved the cookie in his mouth, mumbling around the food. "How can it be contaminated? We share the same DNA."

"So? That doesn't mean you dunk your fingers in my milk!"

"It was like a centimeter of my flesh. I'm sure you can handle that. "

I scoffed at the ridiculousness of his statement. "And that centimeter doesn't carry any germs?"

"I just took a shower," he said incredulously.

"Yeah? And what did you do in the shower? You were in there for a really long time."

"I was in there for less time than you."

I snorted at that. "I'm a woman. It takes me longer. What's your excuse?"

"I was cleaning myself."

"You were doing more than that."

He threw a pillow at me. "I don't need you thinking about what I do in the shower."

"Like I haven't heard it before? When you were fifteen, everyone in the house knew what you were doing in the shower. You weren't exactly quiet."

His face flamed red. "Seriously?"

I nodded with a grin on my face. "Dad would chuckle and say, There he goes, off to shower again. You were the only kid he knew of that took so many showers."

He covered his face in embarrassment. "Fuck, I could have gone the rest of my life without knowing that."

"How do you think the rest of us felt? I was only twelve, but I knew what you were doing. I thought you were going to break your dick off."

"Stop," he groaned. "Christ, I need a drink."

"I don't think we have anything."

He eyed my cookies and I shifted, yelping as he reached for my glass at the same time as he snagged my cookies. The milk upended on my clothes, soaking me with white liquid.

Glaring at him, I stood, holding the shirt away from my body. "Look what you did!"

"What I did? You moved!"

"Because you were trying to steal my milk!"

"Because you were being selfish and wouldn't share," he retorted.

I stuck my tongue out at him, feeling like we were in high school all over again. "Now I have to shower again." I turned my back on him, but then got one last dig in. "I hope you rinsed the shower when you were done."

His face flamed again, and I laughed, heading into my bedroom to toss my shirt in with what remained of my laundry in the basket. My skin was soaked with remnants of milk, and if I didn't shower again, I would feel disgusting for the rest of the night.

After a quick shower, I sat down on my bed, staring longingly at my pillow. I just wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep, but I had promised Oliver I'd watch a movie with him. Dragging my tired ass from the bed, I headed back into the living room and plopped down on the couch.

"So, what are we watching?"

"What are you cooking?"

I slapped him and he slapped me.

Neither of us moved to get any food, and both of us fell asleep on the couch without ever picking a movie.

"I'm late!" I shouted, hopping down the hall as I struggled to put my shoe on.

"What?" Oliver emerged from his room just as I raised my knee again. We collided, sending me into the opposite wall. He rolled his eyes as I slid to the floor, still struggling to get my shoe on.

"Harper," he sighed, grabbing my elbow and hauling me upright. "This would be so much easier if you would just sit down and put on your shoes first."

"Like I yelled, I'm late," I huffed. I shuffled into the living room, my shoe still dangling off my foot. I sat down and quickly pulled on my shoe, then tied it. Glancing at the clock, I knew my manager would be pissed at me. I was never late, but this morning, nothing was going right for me.

Since I'd fallen asleep on the couch, I forgot to change laundry loads. My clothes were still soaked this morning because the washer didn't drain properly, and the only shirt I had to wear to work had been rumpled up on the floor of my closet. So, not only did I feel dirty, but I looked like a teenager who rolled out of bed.

I flung the door open and rushed out, dropping my keys right as I was about to get in my car. Growling in frustration, I grabbed them and yanked the door open, slamming it right into my shin.

"Fucking hell!" I shouted.

"Would you calm down?" Oliver sighed. "You're being spastic."

"I'm not spastic. I'm late."

Shaking his head, he walked past me to his own car. I got in and slammed the door, then cranked the engine and shifted into reverse. Oliver waved as he pulled away from the curb, and once I was calm enough, I backed out and headed into town. Thankfully, it wasn't a long drive and I wouldn't be super late, but still…I saw a write-up in my future and spit flying from my boss's mouth as he yelled at me.

The drive didn't go as smoothly as I planned either. I got stuck behind Mrs. Braverman, who was about a hundred years old and still insisted on driving even though her eyesight was impaired and she never drove over twenty miles an hour. But if I passed her, the whole town would know about it and yell at me for putting the old lady's life in danger.

Everyone knew she shouldn't have a license, so they steered clear of her whenever she was on the road. Unfortunately, it wouldn't do me any good to take the side streets since the IGA was right down the road.

"Come on," I muttered, tapping the wheel. If she turned at the light, I would be home free. But of course, she didn't. I got stuck at the red light and had to wait as she slowly pulled through the intersection after it turned green. Finally, she hit her turn signal and pulled into the parking lot for the Dollar Store.

I let out a whoop as I hit the gas just in time to make it through the next light. "Thank Go?—"

Metal smashed into metal and pain sliced through my arm as the world spun around me. A scream lodged in my throat as glass shattered. I felt like I was on a tilt-a-whirl as I continued to spin until everything came to a halt. My head snapped to the side, sending pain down my neck and back .

I sucked in a staggering breath as I stared at my hands as they shook on the steering wheel. I wasn't sure if I had held on the whole time or if they just naturally came to rest there once I stopped moving. The windshield was cracked so badly I couldn't see through it.

"Okay," I said, my breath coming out shaky. My heart was racing a million miles a minute as I continued to stare at my hands. I distantly heard someone shouting, but couldn't make out the words as the sounds seemed to come and go. A high-pitched sound pierced my eardrum before quickly fading to nothing.

Then I heard metal scraping and my passenger side door was yanked open. I tried to turn my head, but flinched at the pain in my neck. "He—hello?" I called out, hoping someone was still there.

"Shit," the voice muttered. "Are you okay?"

"Um…" My voice shook as I tried to come up with an answer. Was I okay? I couldn't even seem to take stock of my body. I knew things hurt, but I couldn't process where the pain was coming from.

"Just stay still. Don't move."

"Don't move," I repeated to myself. I could do that. I could stay still. Why did I need to stay still? I looked to my left for the first time and took in the damage. My window was broken, but that wasn't the alarming part. There was a piece of metal coming in through the window, and it was going straight through my arm.

There was a hole in my arm.

Something was sticking out of my arm.

"I…There's metal…"

"Stay still. The ambulance is coming."

I stared at it some more, then started laughing. "I'm holy." Tears spilled down my cheeks as I continued to laugh. It wasn't normal. Did most people laugh when they were impaled with objects? No, this couldn't be right. "I'm holy!" I laughed harder.

"Harper, just stay still."

Harper. That was me. Whoever was standing there knew it was me. "Who—" I couldn't finish the sentence. I was halfway between losing my shit and laughing at the fact that I had a massive hole in my arm. "Do you think I'll get a halo?" I asked, unsure why that thought came to mind .

"Harper, just stay with me, okay?"

"Who's me?" I asked, then laughed at how silly it sounded.

"It's Red. Do you remember me?"

"Like the color?"

"Yeah, like the color. We met at the cookout. Do you remember?"

I closed my eyes and tried to remember all the faces I'd seen that day. "Guns," I remembered. "You…you drive with a rifle in your truck."

"That's right. You doin' okay?"

I tried to nod, but pain shot down my back. "Sure."

"Where does it hurt?" he asked.

"Um…well, my arm is sort of numb, but I'm guessing when this metal comes out…it won't feel so good."

"Probably not. Just hang in there, okay?"

Hang in there. I could do that. I could chill and…hang out.

"Harper!"

Oliver. I closed my eyes, wondering if I was imagining things. It sounded like him, but what the hell did I know right now? I had a hole through my arm.

"Hey, hey!" Red called out. His voice was low and soothing, but he wasn't talking to me. "Just take a fucking breath, okay?"

Yes, I could breathe. It would be fine. It was just an arm. I could live without an arm. But this massive pain in my back wasn't helping matters.

I felt the car shift slightly and then I saw my brother's hand wrap around mine over the steering wheel as sirens sounded in the distance. "What are you…doing here?" I breathed out.

"I stopped for gas. I heard the crash and—Fuck, Harper."

"Do I look that bad?" I teased. "At least I had clean underwear."

"What?"

"The…laundry," I said. It felt like a struggle to say anything. My head was throbbing and sounds still seemed to come and go at their own will. "I didn't change the laundry."

"Harper, no one cares if you're wearing clean underwear."

"I do. Who knows? Maybe…a hot fireman will come to the rescue." I tried to laugh again, but this time it hurt. I blinked several times, then the pain in my arm started to intensify. "Oliver, do you think you could do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Can you pull this metal piece out of my arm? It's starting to hurt just a tad."

"Christ, Harper," he muttered under his breath.

That's when I remembered that I was holy and started laughing again.

"What the fuck are you laughing at?"

"I'm…holy, Oliver."

His hand squeezed mine tighter. I wished I could turn and see him, but instead, I was only greeted with the webbing of the windshield and the glass sprayed all across me. I was still holding onto the steering wheel, and while I understood why I was holding it with my left arm, I wasn't entirely sure if I needed to with my right.

"Oliver, is it okay to move my right arm?"

"Just wait for the paramedics."

I didn't like the panic in his voice. It made me think of the accident, of how our parents were killed. I had blocked out all memories of that day for the most part, aside from the way my mother looked at me right before the accident.

Suddenly, nausea swirled in my stomach. "Oh God, I think I'm going to be sick."

Oliver's hand moved to the back of my neck, holding me as I dry-heaved. Every movement hurt more than the last, sending streaks of pain down my spine.

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," he whispered. "It's gonna be fine."

I tried to nod, but failed miserably. "Oliver, promise me something."

"Anything."

"If I don't make it?—"

"You will. Don't talk like that."

"But if I don't, promise me you'll take care of my goldfish."

He sighed heavily. "Harper, you don't have a goldfish. "

I barked out a laugh and nodded slightly. "Will you get one for me, then?"

"You're such a pain in the ass."