My chest heaves.
I’m pushing as hard as I can, racing through a sleek black lobby I’ve never been in before, my heels clattering over the tile floor as I whip my head from side to side like a mad woman for a sign of where I need to go.
“The studio level I can find Tom Coulter on, please?” I pant to the receptionist I find at a long desk set to one side of the enormous elevator bank.
“Is he expecting you?” She lifts a brow as her eyes drop over my crinkled blouse.
“He’s… No, but Reed Walker is. He’s got an interview with him. Please, it’s important I speak to him.”
I glance at my watch. It’s been thirty minutes since I spoke to Stuart on the phone.
I still have time. Please say I still have time.
If Reed is still with Tom, then I must have made it. Stuart said I had until Reed’s last interview before they were turning the video into the police.
The receptionist makes a call, looking up at me as I stumble to the side.
What the? I curse under my breath as my heel bends to the side, snapping itself off from the base of my shoe.
“That’s just great, it’s just…” I pick it up, wrapping my fingers around it. “Stupid useless—”
“You can go up. Twenty-third floor.” The receptionist places her phone down and looks at my hand.
“Oh, thank you… twenty-three… Um, do you have a trash can?”
I’m not sure why, maybe it’s polite professionalism on her half, and crazed scramble-headedness on mine, but she holds her palm out with a soft smile and I place my broken heel into it, swallowing as she wraps it in her fingers.
“Good luck,” she whispers.
My eyes widen as her smile grows. Is it that obvious I am a woman on the edge, racing to help the man she loves from doing something he can never take back?
“Thank you,” I call as I hobble toward the elevators with one regular and one broken shoe.
This is no use. I’m going to miss my chance if I take this long. I kick off both shoes, bending down to retrieve them.
“Go,” a friendly voice next to me says. “Whatever it is, it must be important. I’ve got them. You go.”
I catch the receptionist’s sparkling eyes as she bends to retrieve my shoes.
“It is. Important, I mean. He is super important, like the most important thing you can imagine, then add some more important on top.”
She laughs, and I stand and rush into a waiting elevator.
“Thank you…?” I shout to her.
“Mary.” She smiles as the doors close.
“Thank you, Mary,” I whisper as I sag back into the wall and watch the numbers rise on the display panel.
The elevator takes so long I’m sure I’ve missed at least one Christmas and my birthday by the time the doors slide open, excruciatingly slowly, on the twenty-third floor.
I race out barefoot through a main reception area. Trust this to be the day I wear pants to work. If I had a dress, then I would have stockings on my feet.
“Reed?” I whisper shout, running down a deserted corridor. There are double doors at the end, a large red light illuminated above them saying, Filming in progress.
Thank God.
I stop, resting one palm against the wall as I fill my lungs. If they’re still filming, it means I made it.
“Harley?” Stuart appears from behind another door. His brows shoot up his forehead as he looks at my crinkled shirt, then down at my bare feet.
“It’s a long story.” I roll my eyes. “Well, actually it isn’t, but that can wait… I made it.” I grin at Stuart, my shoulders softening.
“Harley.” He looks at me, his face wrinkling up before a pained half smile dusts over his lips.
“I made it, Stu.” My eyes widen. “He’s still filming.” I jab my finger toward the red light, flashing like a warning beacon.
“I’m sorry.”
“But you said an hour, you said—” I bend at the waist, leaning on the wall for support as my chest tightens and spots dance across my vision. Red flashing ones.
He’s still filming. I was in time.
“We finished early at the previous news channel. It’s too late, Harley. I’m sorry.”
“So that’s it? I’m too late?” I look at Stuart, my fingers beginning to shake as my stomach knots itself.
He doesn’t answer, just gives me a grim nod.
“I need air.”
“Harley?” he calls after me, but I’m already running up the corridor, one hand trailing along the wall for support.
“I need some air, Stu,” I cry as I run down the corridor desperate to get into an elevator, ignoring the curious looks from the few members of staff I pass on the way.
I will the elevator to move fast, and thankfully it sails to the ground level without stopping on any other floors. I squeeze out through the crack in the doors, not waiting for them to open all the way. Then I run until I’m out on the sidewalk, the air of the city greeting me like an old friend as I gulp in deep breaths.
“I was too late,” I murmur as I walk along the front of the building, finding a spot of wall to rest my head back against, and allowing my body to slump in defeat.
That video is with the police now. People will be watching it. Reed will have to watch it. He might have to see it in a trial. In a courtroom full of people, their eyes glued to his face in morbid fascination as they study his reaction, drinking it in like it’s an episode of CSI and not real life.
Not his life.
The most incredible, passionate man I have ever met.
I sink to the floor, ignoring the strange looks people are giving me as they pass. Hot tears fill my eyes.
He doesn’t deserve this. Any of it. Not that night years ago. Not having it all brought back and used against him.
None of it.
I sit and I cry. I cry for him. I cry for me. I cry for us. But mostly I cry for anyone who has ever been hurt in such a heinous way before, like Reed. I cry for them and the people who love them. I cry for the unfairness of it all.
I cry until my throat is dry and stinging and my face is puffy.
“Harls?”
I snap my eyes open in the direction of his voice. The second I do, he’s there. Right in front of me. Smoky-quartz eyes gazing into mine, their warm, golden flecks calling out like searchlights in the dark.
Searching for me.
“Reed?”
His dark blue suit jacket brushes my knees as he crouches in front of me, his brow furrowed.
“The video,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
He nods, his handsome face clouded with an expression I can’t read. “I know.”
“You shouldn’t have had to do it. It’s my fault. I should have done something when they first came to me. I should have found out who it was faster. I don’t know… I… I should have done more.” My eyes squeeze shut as fresh tears spill.
“It’s not your fault.” His voice is softer than I deserve, and my head pounds with guilt. He places his hand on my arm, but the heat from his skin is too much. A painful reminder of what I ruined.
“Stop.” I scrabble to my feet, my chest heaving. My eyes are bleary, making him blur, like an oasis, a mirage to a wanderer so parched that they can sense their imminent demise should it not be real. “I can’t—”
“Talk to me, Angel.”
He inclines his body toward mine, like it’s instinctual, and dips his head so his face is close enough to mine that I can taste his scent, if such a thing is even possible.
Forest air.
Air so fresh, like first thing in the morning when everything is new and full of promise. A new day. If I were to kiss him, would he taste the same on my lips, too? Would I be filled with the promise of new hope? Or left with the bitterness of regret for what I almost had?
How does anyone survive someone like Reed Walker?
Maybe they don’t.
Maybe they turn out like Bea instead. Full of so much selfish hate that they can’t recognize the devastation their actions have on others.
“I’m so sorry.” I look up from underneath my lashes to meet his gaze. “I should have told you in the beginning. I know you can’t trust me anymore. I know that’s why you came to Suze’s to say goodbye. After everything, you should have been able to trust me. I am so sorry, Reed.”
He stares at me, leaning closer so our lips are mere inches apart. So close that the air vibrates, dancing in the space between them. I dart my tongue out to wet mine as tingles scatter through my body. I know what it’s like when he kisses me. I know what it’s like to be held by him.
That feeling is lost now, lost everywhere, except in my memory.
And in my heart.
I need his arms around me more than ever, holding me to his chest where I can rest my cheek and hear his heartbeat against my skin.
But that’s not fair on either of us.
Not now.
“Harls,” he utters in the gentlest voice I’ve ever heard him use.
“No.” I hiccup, a sob catching in my throat. “Don’t be nice to me. I let you down.”
This is my fault. I could have been there to support him. But I ran. I panicked.
“How can you say that?” His eyes widen as his breath catches in his throat. “You’ve never let me down. It’s the other way around.”
“No. It’s my fault. I thought I was giving you more time. I thought it would be okay. I thought…” I trail off as I run out of words. Nothing I say will make this any better.
I wipe underneath my eyes with my fingertips. They come away coated in salty tears and mascara.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again, my heart unbelievably heavy in my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“Harls.” Reed’s eyes widen further as I break into fresh tears, and he reaches for me, but I step to the side. Having him touch me again, soothe me—it’s too much. It’s an embrace I will never want to end. It’s easier if it doesn’t even begin.
“You said it was time for a fresh start, that nothing lasts forever.” I clasp my hand over my mouth, nausea rolling in my stomach.
He frowns and pulls his chin back. “That’s not what I—’ He tries to reach for me again. “Harls, listen—”
“You’re incredible. You don’t deserve any of it. This city is so lucky to have you. You gave your heart to it and—”
“The city doesn’t have my heart, Harley,” he cuts in, his voice deep and even, snapping me back to reality and bringing me firmly into the moment with him.
“But your job, you love it. It’s what you’ve spent years working toward. Justice, honesty, truth… it’s who you are.”
He straightens his back. It’s been one day since I saw him, yet I’m struck by how tall he is. Like I’m noticing for the first time. Noticing how broad and muscular his shoulders are, carrying the weight of all this on them. Noticing how powerful his thick arms. Arms that have pinned me down beneath him and held me up above him. But mostly, noticing his darkened eyes, fixed on mine, unsaid words swirling in them with an intensity that makes the world around us come to a standstill.
He is breathtaking.
“Maybe that is who I am. And yes, I have spent years working toward it. But you’re wrong. If you think that video means more to me than you do… if you think this city has my heart…” His eyes hold mine. “Then you’re wrong. It doesn’t.”
“But—”
“It’s yours. You have my heart.”
“W-what?”
My mouth drops open. I stare at his jaw, at the thick waves of his hair, at the golden flecks in his eyes. And I stare at his lips and perfect white teeth as he speaks words I can’t even begin to comprehend.
“You’ve had my heart a long time.” His eyes soften. “You’re the only one who has ever had it.”
“Oh, God.” I hold my hand over my mouth, my vision blurring as I look at him. I’ve ruined everything. We could have been happy together. Then I lied. I left him alone, and I wrecked it all.
“I…” I shake my head, searching his eyes. “I didn’t want you to get hurt. You always said you’d hate to have your past used against you. And I got it. I understood.”
He nods slowly, carefully, watching me like I’m a frightened animal that might bolt at any moment. “You were backed into a corner. You didn’t know what to do. I’m not mad. Not at you.”
“You have every right to be.” I pause and force myself to take a breath. “I did the wrong thing. I should have come to you first.”
“Why didn’t you?” he asks. But there’s no accusatory tone. He sounds concerned.
I’m the one who let him down, and he’s standing here looking out for me.
Worrying about me.
“Because I didn’t want you to relive it. To have it used against you. I wanted to make it go away. Fix it all, and then tell you afterward that there was nothing to worry about. Like you did for me when that man started saying he knew me as Julia.” I shake my arms by my sides as pins and needles run through them.
“Some things aren’t meant to be fixed, Harls.”
His eyes drink in my face, stalling on the point where my tears are dripping from my chin. I wipe them away roughly.
“We both have pasts we can’t change or fix. And we shouldn’t try. It will only keep us trapped there.”
“That’s not fair. We can’t just do nothing, Reed. We can’t let these things happen to us. These people do these…” I throw my hands up in the air. “These despicable things to other people and get away with it. It’s not right.”
I suck in deep breaths, my shoulders trembling with the effort.
“It shouldn’t happen,” I whisper, staring off up the sidewalk. People are walking past us, but apart from the odd glance, no one is listening. They’re all too busy living their lives to notice mine crumbling around me.
“No. It shouldn’t, but it’s life. And sometimes life is fucking unfair.”
I turn back into Reed’s gaze, and it pins me to the spot, making my heart skip a beat.
“I understand.” He searches my eyes again, and I screw mine shut so he can’t see me falling apart.
I rub my hands down my face, the trembling from my shoulders and the pins and needles in my hands spreading through my body like a virus. Forest air calls to me, and I know he’s moving closer. I can sense him.
“After Brett, and my dad… seeing what it’s done to Rose. I swore I would do whatever it takes to try and stop someone I love from being hurt again. Because it’s the worst thing in the world.”
“Harls?”
“I can’t see someone I love be hurt. It’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“Harls?”
“I thought I could do something. I thought that I would find a way. That a miracle would happen and—”
“Harley,” Reed shouts.
The words pouring from my lips freeze on the tip of my tongue. My hands drop to my sides, and I stare at him as my pounding heart takes over my ears.
“What?” I whisper.
“Someone you love?” His chest inflates as he draws in a slow, measured breath. “Do you love me, Angel?”
His eyes search mine with the first hint of vulnerability I’ve ever seen in them. Even when he’s talked about his assault, they’ve never looked like this before—like everything that could ever matter in life boils down to my answer.
To one word.
“Yes,” I breathe out slowly. “I’m in love with you.”
His brows rise and I can pinpoint the exact moment hope explodes in his eyes like a million golden fireworks all set off at once.
I shake my head. “But I let you down.”
“None of that matters.” He raises his voice again, finally attracting the attention of passers-by.
“How can it not?” I cry back.
“Because I’m choosing it to be that way, that’s why.”
“How is it that easy? How is—”
“It’s not easy. It’s been twelve years of trying. Thinking if I push it far enough into the past that it never happened in the first place. And that was enough. But it’s not anymore. Not now that it’s hurting you, too. I’m done pretending. I’m done trying to ignore it.”
“But…” My head spins as I struggle to process his words. “They have the video. They could still release it. Now the police have it. People will see it.”
“Don’t make me into a victim, Harley.” His voice has a dangerous edge to it. “Don’t give them that power. They manipulated you, and you fought back. Now it’s time to take back full control. They may have been under the illusion they had it, but it was never theirs to begin with. It’s always been mine.”
I blink, my head pounding, setting a relentless, unforgiving rhythm. I rub at my temple. “But—’
“I was raped!” Reeds yells suddenly, drawing a gasp from a woman stepping out of a cab further down the street. His eyes are bright and clear as he throws his arms wide and tips his head back, angling it upward to the soaring Manhattan skyscrapers surrounding us.
“I was fucking raped. And it wasn’t my fault.” He’s panting, his hair falling forward into his eyes as he looks back at me, lowering his voice. “It doesn’t get to dictate my future or what I do, or who I love. It doesn’t get to be used against me.” He jabs his finger into his chest, dragging in a rough breath. “And it certainly doesn’t get to be used against you. Not anymore.”
My head spins and I stumble backward, suddenly dizzy as I lock eyes with Reed.
He may be shouting… but his eyes are full of clarity, glittering at me.
Full of renewed purpose.
“Sorry,” I apologize as I bump into someone. “I… Sorry,” I repeat, the woman from the cab sidestepping me as I wobble to one side.
“Argh!”
A sudden, sharp pain consumes my bare foot, shooting through my calf and forcing the air from my lungs as the overwhelming urge to vomit hits me like a punch to the face. My vision blurs.
“Harley!” Reed shouts.
It’s the last sound I hear before the pain stops.
