Chapter 5

Chapter

Five

HARPER

G olden rays of light flicker through the verdant green canopy above us as Cillian drives us down the quiet residential street in Briarwood Bay, the small coastal town where Trinity University sits. All the homes sit back from the street on large plots of well-kept land dotted with magnolia and oak trees. He pulls into a driveway already clogged with vehicles.

I see Declan’s Audi, a sleek matte black motorcycle, and a Jeep without a top all parked in front of a detached garage. The house itself is Tudor style with dark trim and paint contrasted with stone masonry. It should feel too moody and out of place for the rest of the neighborhood, but with the wooded lot it’s set back on, it feels right.

“Ready?” Mom turns around in her seat and squeezes my knee.

“Not remotely,” I say quietly.

“It’ll be great.” Cillian turns off the car and exits. “You’ll have Declan, Cyrus, and Emerson to help you navigate your first year,” he says as he holds my door open.

“Are they all home?” I ask.

Cillian looks at the cars in the driveway before answering. “Declan’s Range Rover is missing, so I assume he and Emerson are at practice together.”

“That’s perfect.” Mom holds out her hand for mine, and I’m not too proud to let her take it. “It’ll give us time to get you unpacked and settled in your room.”

Cillian opens the trunk and grabs a couple of boxes. I pull out a suitcase and my backpack while Mom takes a duffel bag in. We follow him up the stone steps and under the arched front porch alcove.

The dark color scheme from the outside facade carries over into the interior. The walls of the foyer are painted a deep maroon with walnut floors and wainscoting. An iron chandelier hangs from double height ceilings above us while a curved staircase runs along the wall.

I follow Cillian as he moves upstairs, heading to my bedroom. The second level has a catwalk passing over a large living room. Based off the decor and design of the rest of the house, I’m expecting something dark and gothic in my room. Maybe even a casket instead of a bed because this house definitely gives vampire vibes.

Instead, I’m taken by complete surprise when Cillian pushes open a door at the end of the hallway and I’m met with a large, bright space. A king-size bed is situated against one wall with two tables on either side with a dresser directly opposite. The walls are painted a light, airy blue color. The walnut woodwork is the only thing providing continuity between this room and the rest of the house from what I’ve seen so far.

“This is beautiful. Who picked everything?”

“Declan.” The answer comes from Cyrus, who is standing in the doorway. “We ordered everything based off your room at Cillian’s house.” He’s wearing cut off sweatpants and a white t-shirt with paint splatters of various colors. His tan, tattooed skin is covered in smudges of paint in the same colors. Even his hair has a streak of paint just behind his ear.

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me.” He shrugs and looks at Cillian. “Do you need help with anything else?”

“Yeah, there are more boxes and bags out in the car.” They disappear down the hall together.

“It was really kind of them to decorate for you.” Mom looks around the room, running her hand over the duvet. “I know this isn’t what you thought your life would look like, but you’re getting a second chance to do whatever you want. To be who you want to be instead of following your father’s every whim and order.” She grabs my hands and squeezes them, looking straight into my eyes. “I need you to live to your fullest potential, chase your dreams.”

My eyes sting with unshed tears. “I don’t know what my dreams are.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” She pulls me close and wraps her arms around me. “Promise me that you’ll find them.”

I nod, clinging to her, and suddenly overwhelmed with fear. I’ve never been given the smallest amount of freedom, and now I’m being set free like this. I don’t have Banks. I don’t have anyone to fall back on. But I want, no need, my mother to be able to breathe without worrying about me. She deserves this as much as she believes I do.

The sound of heavy footsteps on the creaking wood of the stairs finally breaks us from our embrace. Both of us swiping our tears away quickly as the guys drop boxes down gently. Cyrus does a double take, no doubt noticing my reddened eyes and nose. I look away, walking into the bathroom for a moment to compose myself. I don’t want anyone seeing me upset.

After everything is unloaded from the car, I go over to the registrar’s office with Mom and Cillian to finalize my enrollment and get a schedule. They enrolled me in all general education requirements since I don’t have a declared major. My grades from high school weren’t the best either, mostly because Dad always told me I wouldn’t be going to college, so I didn’t see the point in trying too hard.

I feel wholly unprepared for this.

Mom and Cillian left hours ago, and while I hear the guys moving around in the house, I haven’t come out of my room. Even though none of them have made me feel unwelcome, I still feel like an interloper. I don't want to disturb them, but the deep grumble in my stomach means I have to go downstairs.

The murmuring of voices and light filters down the hall from the game room, but the kitchen is empty and dark aside from the light over the sink. I grab a bowl and fill it with some cereal. My almond milk has been pushed to the back of the refrigerator, so I have to move things around to get to it. I’m closing the doors when I notice someone to my left.

“We wondered when you would come down.” Cy blends into the darkness like a demon and sends my heart racing.

“Goodness.” I grab my chest as I recover from the fright. “I didn’t hear you.”

“No one ever does.” His eyes are fathomless as they skim over me. It feels like he’s assessing me for weaknesses the way a predator would watch prey. “Sorry for startling you.”

“It’s okay.” I say a silent thank you to the universe for keeping my hands steady as I pour the milk over my cereal. “I was just getting a little dinner before bed.”

“You don’t have to explain what you’re doing. It’s your house, too.”

“I know. ”

“Do you?” He tilts his head to the side and takes the milk from me. “Because it feels like you’re spending a lot of time hiding out in your room.”

“I’m just settling in. Getting everything organized the way I want it.”

“What’s taking so long, Cy?” Emerson walks into the kitchen, the scowl on his face immediately dropping when he sees me. “Oh, Harper. Did you decide to grant us the pleasure of your company for the evening?” His voice carries a sharp edge, his words laced with sarcasm.

“No, I was just grabbing a quick snack before I go finish putting everything away.”

“Ignore him.” Cy’s hand runs gently down my back. “He’s always pissy when he’s losing to one of us, but it’s even worse when Dec and I are both beating him.”

“Fuck off.” Emerson gives Cy a little push down the hall, and I’m left in the silence of the kitchen once again.

I grab my phone and open my text chain with Banks. I was trying to be flirty and sexy earlier tonight, just to see if he’d bite and flirt back, but he was stoic as always. Before everything happened with my dad, we always kept a respectable distance. I had strict rules for dating, and he always adhered to them, but now those expectations are gone. I mean, I’m not respecting anything regarding my father’s rules after everything he did. I would have thought Banks would be as eager as I am to begin exploring the physical side of our relationship, but he seemingly has no desire.

He loves me, I know that unequivocally, but I’m starting to wonder if it’s more of a platonic love. There’s no passion for me from him. But maybe my expectations are too high? Do I have unrealistic ideas of what relationships should be like from movies and books? Maybe the intimacy of sitting at his feet and resting my head in his lap is the best I’ll get? I do love it.

My reflection in the window catches my eye, and I realize that I look kind of cute. Maybe I should send him a photo. I glance down at myself, tugging my top down to show all my cleavage but still keeping myself covered. Women who send sexy photos to their boyfriends have always intimidated me. Even having the thought to send a mildly sexy photo feels taboo.

That said, a thrill shoots along my spine as I look for the best angle to send to him. We’re navigating uncharted waters between us. Giving him a little nudge might make him feel more comfortable to start exploring our physical relationship.

I snap a photo and send it off.

In an effort not to wonder when and how he’ll respond, I look around the kitchen. It’s decorated in the same dark aesthetic as the rest of the house, and I have to wonder if it came this way or if they actually decorated it. From what I understand, the guys have lived here for two years. That’s enough time to fully decorate, but I can’t imagine they did this on their own.

The curious side of me wants to go peek at their rooms, just to see what their personal vibe is, but that feels invasive. I didn’t even look into Declan’s room at his dad’s house. Our house, I guess, though it still doesn’t feel that way to me.

The sound of my phone vibrating on the marble counter startles me from my thoughts. I pick it up and look down at the message from Banks.

Banks

There’s my pretty girl

Warmth flutters in my chest at his response.

Do you want more?

No, I’m good. I’m setting this as my lock screen though

It’s not an outright rejection, but I feel deflated anyway. I just want to be wanted. I want to be touched and treasured, but not in some old pervert way like my dad’s friends used to leer at me during his parties.

Maybe it is too much to ask for.