Reality of daily life after abuse was nothing new for Harper. But this was different. I felt it in my bones. It made me cold with stifled panic. “How do I get her through this? She’ll blame herself. She’ll see it like she allowed him to do this to her.”
Caleb turned me to face him and said sternly, “You just keep telling her that this wasn’t her fault. Every day for as long as it takes tae sink in.”
“You don’t understand … her history … this … she doesn’t deserve any more pain. She’s been through enough.” Tears spilled down my cheeks again as a feeling of powerlessness overwhelmed me.
“Hey.” Jamie’s hand came down on my shoulder and I looked up at him through blurry vision. “You did well back at the flat when we found her. You kept it together even though it was awful for you tae see her like that. You find that strength you had in that moment and hold on to it tae be there for her again.”
Jamie’s advice would stick with me over the next few days. Somewhere I’d find the strength to be what Harper needed, but worried constantly that it wasn’t enough.
I went in alone to be with Harper while the police interviewed her and took photos of her injuries. Although she told them everything that had happened (and I had to shut out the visuals her description produced because they made me nauseous), she was angry with me for calling the cops.
“I told you not to,” she hissed as they left us in the hospital room.
I slipped my arm around her waist to help her up off the bed. “Well, I did. Vince needs to face charges for this and you know it.”
“Yeah, so his defense team can drag up my history and twist it around on me to make it my fault. That I’m out looking for this kind of shit.”
I glared at her. “You do not. This is not your fault and you have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of.”
She looked away, tears burning in the eye that wasn’t swollen shut.
“Harper …” I ducked my head so she couldn’t avoid my gaze. “Do you think for one second that I would have let him anywhere near you if I thought he was capable of this?” Then an awful thought occurred to me. “He hadn’t … he didn’t hit you before this, right?”
Her gray-blue eye blazed with ire at the suggestion. “No.”
“Then how can you blame yourself for something you didn’t even know he was capable of? He was high and messed up. This is not your fault.”
“We both know that once he started saying negative things about my work and once I started to suspect he was on drugs that I should have walked away.”
“You had hope.” I squeezed her arm. “You wanted to believe he could change. There is nothing wrong with that. And when you realized he wasn’t going to change, you made the choice to leave him. It isn’t your fault that he attacked you for that decision. Do you hear me?”
Harper nodded, but the dull expression on her face told me she still wasn’t ready to forgive herself.
While Caleb got us a cab to my place, Jamie had taken the Range Rover back to Harper’s to collect some clothes and toiletries for her. I had to hope she’d forgive me for the invasion of her privacy, but I didn’t want to let her out of my sight long enough to get her clean clothes and pajamas. By the time we got to my apartment, Jamie had arrived with her things.
She’d barely acknowledged him or Caleb, and sensing her distress that they had paid witness to all of this, I settled her in my bed and ushered the two big Scotsmen out into the living room.
“I would offer you a coffee—Strike that. I would offer you a freaking kidney for what you both have done tonight.” I gave them a teary, grateful smile. “But she’s not doing great and—”
“You need us tae go,” Caleb cut me off, giving me a reassuring nod. “We get it. We’ll leave you be. But call me if you need anything.” He pressed a sweet, tender kiss to my forehead and I pressed my hand over his heart in thanks.
Jamie surprised me by wrapping me up in a big hug, but I quickly recovered, hugged him back, and whispered a thank you to him.
Once they’d left, with Caleb gone, I felt an emptiness I couldn’t explain. It was an emptiness that frightened me almost as much as the woman lying broken in my bed.
Only able to deal with one thing at a time, I shoved Caleb to the back of my mind and got down to the business of watching over Harper. That night I slept on the armchair in my bedroom, waking every hour or so to check that Harper was okay. She slept deeply, thankfully, exhausted by her ordeal.
The next morning, however, she woke in pain and I forced some food down her throat so she could chase it with painkillers. Harper was a terrible patient. Partly because she still hadn’t forgiven me yet for calling the police, and partly because she spent her life constantly on her feet. Her energy was admirable, but trying to keep her in bed when she needed bed rest was exhausting.
Despite her protests, I called Jason. She knew her boss had to be informed because she had a broken wrist and wouldn’t be able to work for a while until it healed. Jason and his wife, Gillian, appeared at my apartment less than two hours after I called to tell him what happened.
He walked in seeming to have been struck haggard by the news. Gillian, a tall, striking woman who took a long sabbatical from professional tennis to be a full-time mom—a fact visible in her broad shoulders and muscular arms—had kind hazel eyes that were filled with horror when she took in the sight of Harper in my bed.
Jason went from haggard to enraged. “I’m going to kill him,” he announced.
“I’ll help,” Gillian muttered.
Harper appeared ready to sink under the covers. “Stop glaring at me like that.”
“She thinks it’s her fault,” I said.
If looks could have killed, I would have been dead. “Screw you, Ava.”
I flinched, the undeniable pain piercing me even though I knew she was just humiliated and taking it out on me.
“Watch it,” Jason snapped, rounding the bed. “You don’t talk to her like that.”
Harper just glowered at him. “You better not be here to tell me I can’t work.”
He pointed to her wrist. “How the hell do you plan on working with that?”
“I’m going back to work. Tomorrow.”
“Like hell you are.”
“I am.”
“Harper—”
“Jason—” Her voice broke on his name, her lips trembling. “Please.”
His expression softened and he looked over at Gillian. Whatever he saw in his wife’s face made him curse under his breath. “You can’t work with a broken wrist, Harper. But”—he cut off her coming protest—“after a few more days’ bed rest you can come back to work and help where you can, as long as you don’t become a frustrated nuisance in there.”
“I want to come back tomorrow—”
“No.” He lifted a hand to cut off whatever she’d say next. “That’s final.”
She stared at him in irritation for a few seconds and then slumped back against the pillows. “Fine.”
“You can’t stay here either.” Gillian shook her head and gave me an apologetic look. “Sorry, Ava, but you don’t have the room. You can’t sleep on the couch for an indefinite amount of time.”
“I don’t mind,” I said, feeling panic build at the direction the conversation was taking.
“Gillian’s right.” Jason shook his head. “And you have work. Gillian’s at home. Harper will stay with us for a week or so until she’s okay to go back to her apartment.”
“A week or so? No way. I’m going home today.”
“No, you’re not,” all three of us said in unison. And then I stepped farther into the room. “Look, Gillian, Jason, I appreciate the offer, but I can take time off work to look after Harper.”
“I’m not a child,” she bit out. “Ava, stop treating me like I’m made of goddamn porcelain.”
That was all it took to make my temper snap. Suddenly I was braced over her on the bed and she was leaning back in shock at my abrupt, fast movement. “You have people who love you,” I said, my voice hoarse, harsh. “Deal with it and stop acting like a brat.”