“Let’s get that damn car back to James’ house, and then I’m all yours for the day.”
“Don’t you have to get back to the clerkship?” Worry crosses Harlow’s face and the joy from a moment ago disappears. “Tell me it was okay for you to be here.”
“It’s all good. I cleared it with the program director.” The white lie slips off my tongue. I emailed the director and told him I was unable to make it in the rest of the day due to an unforeseen emergency. I haven’t checked my inbox to see if he has replied, but this beautiful, brave woman standing before me is all that matters in my world right now. If I get kicked out of the clerkship, I still have med school at Columbia starting in a couple weeks.
“Okay,” she says, hesitation in her voice, “but I know how important the clerkship is to you. I don’t want to come between you and your life goals. I will never let that happen.”
How has her welfare taken precedence over my quest to become a doctor? Sure, that goal remains front and center in my life, but her wellbeing outranks everything else in this moment.
“It’s all good,” I say with an encouraging, and hopefully convincing, smile that brings her smile back. Relief washes over me. “As much as I want to kiss you senseless again, we better get going.” I release her from my arms, but take one of her hands in mine. Bringing it to my lips, I kiss each knuckle. Harlow shivers under my touch.
“Are you cold, babe?” I ask.
“No. Just the opposite. I’ve never felt this odd warmth before.”
“Me either.”
“Really? You have so much more experience at this thing than I do.” She blushes at me and I love that her innocence has endured even under the strong hand of my damn uncle.
“I swear to you, I don’t have experience in the way I feel for you. This is new territory for me, too. One I hope to continue to explore.”
“I don’t know how long we have before James finds out. I hope he never knows you helped me. We may only have today.” Sadness weaves through her words and I want to dismiss her worries, but I can’t. I have to be honest with myself. Our future together seems so unclear. I can’t promise her anything other than my help.
“We should head back to the cars.” Our hands stay clasped as we turn and walk toward the parking area.
“After dropping the car off at James’, would you mind taking me to my old apartment building? The landlord has agreed to give me a special deal on a vacant studio apartment.”
“Like I said, I am here to help you.” Today. The word echoes in my head and stabs at my heart. My sad and stupid heart, because I have nothing to promise her. And I hate that fact.
We continue to walk back to our cars, hand in hand—mine large and dwarfing hers; hers soft and delicate against my rough skin. She talks about her morning trip to the pawnshop and the man who owns the place. Bob, she calls him. He gave her two thousand dollars and she bounces on her toes like she won the lottery. I compare the millions in my trust fund to her small amount of money and know hers has a greater value than mine, because it means more to her. A truly sobering thought.
I open her car door, but I don’t want to let go of her hand. I lean closer and back her up against the car. Our bodies aren’t touching, but I want them to be. I brush a stray hair from her face. Damn this wind and how it hits us off the lake. We linger in silence for a few seconds, staring into each other’s eyes, until we hear a car hitting the gravel near us.
I glance up and see a black sedan approaching. I know who it is before I even look at the driver behind the darkened glass. It’s James.
“Harlow,” I whisper into her ear, “stay where you are.”
She must sense the sudden fear in my voice, or maybe my widened eyes. She peers over her shoulder and I know she recognizes James when a look of terror runs over her face like her worst nightmare is coming to pass. I won’t let it happen to her.
“Sin,” she speaks with a quiet, shaky voice, “what am I going to do?”
“I want to handle this for you. Even his own mother wants me to help you. But do you trust me?”
“I do.” She nods her head and I pull her body behind mine to shield her from James’ view.
“Let me handle him.” Harlow and I are still holding hands as she plasters herself to my back. She’s terrified and I am angry as hell.
James parks behind Harlow’s car and exits his vehicle. I have no idea what to expect from him. Anger, rage, violence—possibly a combination?