After dropping Chloe off, I didn’t really feel like being in the house with my asshole dad, so I went out to the guesthouse.
“How long?” Mom asked, handing me a drink and sitting on the couch opposite me.
“Four weeks.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry, Blake.”
“I don’t know what to do, Ma. I’m just not ready to let her go.”
Mom sighed. “Just ask yourself this: If you could describe your days with Chloe as black or red, what would it be?”
I smiled, remembering how she used to tell me about red-and black-letter days. Black-letter days had negative impact. Like when you got news of someone’s death. A red-letter day was the opposite of black. A positive experience or something unexpectedly phenomenal.
“Red,” I told her. “Definitely red.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Chloe
“How did it go?”
Dean grinned. “Great.” He ruffled Harry’s hair. “It’s official. Harry’s ours. He’s stuck with us for life now.”
Harry contained his smile and tried to move away from Dean.
“That’s awesome, Harry.”
“Yeah.” He shrugged. “I guess.”
“So. I was wondering if you still had that big gear bag from when you did karate last year?”
His face fell instantly. “Yeah, why?”
“I don’t have a bag big enough for when I leave. I was wondering if I could have it?”
“It’s in my room,” he bit out. “I’ll go get it.”
And then he left the kitchen, thumping loudly up each step to get to his room.
“What’s with him?” I asked Dean, just as the sound of a door slamming shut echoed through the house.
“I think you should talk to him, Chloe. I think there’s a lot he’s not telling you.”
I knocked twice on Harry’s door before entering. A single step in, and a bag was hurled at my head. I ducked right in time to avoid being hit. “Whoa. What’s going on with you?”
“Nothing.” His nostrils flared, and a snarl appeared. “Just take the bag and fuck off already.”
My eyebrows pinched as I took in his state. He stood at the foot of his bed, with his hands fisted at his sides. “Dude, what the hell?” I stepped farther into his room. I wasn’t going to let up until I knew what was going on.
“Seriously, I don’t even care about you right now. You’re leaving in a week, and you’ve barely been around. You’re always out with that Blake jerk, or he’s always here. He’s not even part of the family. You know that, right? We are. We’re your family.” His voice broke, but he kept going, his tone getting harsher with every single word. “Do you even think about me? I’ve been here for years. You’re my sister. Not his.”
Before I could speak, Harry added, “You know what? I know about you—and about your mom’s cancer, and your aunt, too. I know that Mary and Dean asked to adopt you, and you told them no. And I don’t get it. Mary and Dean—they love you.” He paused for a beat. “I love you, Chloe, and you don’t even care.”
I blew out a breath and took a seat on his bed, physically weakened by the impact of his words.
“Don’t!” he yelled, pulling me off his bed. “Don’t even think about getting comfortable in here. I don’t want you here. Just like you don’t want me. One week, Chloe. One week, and you’re gone.” His hands were firm against my back as he pushed me through his door and out of his room.
I turned to him just as his hand curled around the edge of the door.
His face was red, fueled by his pent-up rage. “So just do it, Chloe!” He was screaming now. “Just do what you’ve always wanted to do and fuck off! And don’t ever come back!”
I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat closed up. My face was wet from the tears I hadn’t known were there.
“Harry,” I whispered.
But he didn’t hear me. He was too busy slamming the door in my face.
I’d been so closed off, so blinded by the walls I’d built that I hadn’t even realized how Harry felt. He’d called me his sister. He’d told me that he loved me.
And all it had done was give me more reason to leave.
“I’m sorry,” Dean said from the bottom of the stairs. He didn’t offer any more condolences. He just walked away. And I knew why—because he agreed with Harry.