Pretend You're Mine(114)

She wiped her hands on the towel and threw it back on the counter. “So either go find someone to talk to or find some way to deal with it. Don’t take it out on everyone else.”

Harper made a move to brush past him but found herself caged against the vanity and between Luke’s arms.

She lifted her chin and stared him in the eye. For a second, she caught a glimpse of something beyond sadness. And then it was gone and he was crushing his mouth to hers with a need so intense it stole her breath.

“Goddamnit. Why do you do this to me?” Luke asked as his lips roamed her face. His hands streaked under her sweater. Busy fingers cruised to the front closure of her bra and flicked it open.

He filled his hands with her breasts and brought his mouth to hers.

They moaned together.

He slid a hand into the waistband of her yoga pants, fingers sliding over her slick folds and into her heat.

“I hate how much I want you.” His fingers drove into her tight center and she gasped at the invasion. His erection begged to be released.

He drove into her again and again, spreading her thighs further apart with his knee. She wanted to stay angry, but her body didn’t care. When Luke’s hands were on her, nothing else mattered.

“Luke!” Her breathy moan brought him back and he pulled his fingers out of her. Dropping his forehead to hers, he tried to catch his breath.

“Why do you let me use you like this?”

And with that, he pushed back and left the room.

Harper’s knees shook and she leaned against the sink for support. Use her? Is that what he thought he was doing?

***

It was hours before everyone left. But not before every plate, dish, and bowl were spotless and put back in their rightful places. Lola and Max took care of any floor cleanup and helped themselves to the secret plate of turkey that Charlie put under the dining room table for them.

Night had fallen, and Harper sat down with a cup of coffee in the kitchen to fight the exhaustion of an early rising and a full day of chaos. She was physically and mentally exhausted.

Luke had stopped drinking after their encounter upstairs. He had withdrawn to the living room where he remained, still watching TV.

How long could he live like this before he broke down and talked to her about what was going on in his head?

A stack of mail shoved against the backsplash caught her eye. Judging from the height of the pile, it was several days’ worth of mail. Luke’s disinterest in opening mail was one thing that hadn’t changed during his deployment or since his return.

She flipped through the stack, sorting as she went.

Harper’s fingers paused on the envelope with handwriting as familiar as her own. She held the letter gingerly between her fingers. Was it her imagination or could she actually feel the hate through the paper?

She had read each and every one of the letters in the past few years. Sometimes she boosted her bravery with a large glass of wine. Sometimes she waited until she was good and mad about something else before opening one. Sometimes, if things were good, she put it away for a few weeks before opening.

Anything to help build a wall between her and the violence simmering within the ink. However, the luxury of waiting days or weeks to read had passed. Now there was an urgency as time ticked down. Someday, she promised herself, she would feel nothing but pity when she opened these letters. And someday they would stop.

Taking a deep breath, she tore open the envelope. It was the usual single piece of lined notebook paper. The handwriting was a scrawling script that slanted and slashed across the page.

My dear Harper,

It’s been too many years since our time together. Why haven’t you come to see me? Are you afraid? I think of you often. There is never a shortage of time here to think and to plan. I have so many plans for you and me. How will I ever choose where to begin? How will I impress upon you the price for these last twelve years? Because there will be a price to pay for taking so much of a man’s life. What have you done with these years? Whatever it is, it won’t be enough to cover the cost of what you took from me. I suppose we will both find out soon enough. Until December.

Daddy

December. The years had finally ticked down to a handful of weeks and days. She went upstairs and pulled the box out of the back of the closet. She kicked the lid off and tucked the letter into the folder with the rest.

She would copy it and send it on its way tomorrow. Melissa would add it to her own file, but there was nothing either of them could do now. No more stays. Not this time.

She needed to tell Luke. It wasn’t just her anymore. Her past would now affect others. There was no way to keep this from him without putting him in danger. She wanted him to know. It was time to stop running, hiding.