Page 77 of Pining for Pierce

I smile at her slight possessiveness. It’s a new trait, and I kinda like it, holding her close while I open the rear door. It’s warmer today, thank goodness, and Harley steps outside.

“See you at lunchtime?” she says.

“Yeah, but call if you need me. Okay?”

She nods her head, turning away, but then spins back, rushing up to me and throwing her arms around my neck. “I love you so much,” she whispers.

“I love you.” I hold her close, surprised by the lump that’s formed in my throat, until she steps away again. “Remember what I said. Call if you need me.”

“I will. I always need you.”

I smile, liking that she said that, although she’s already heading for the corner, and I close the door and rush back through to the front of the store, waiting. It only takes a couple of minutes before she appears, and I tap on the window, making her jump, although she glances up and smiles the moment she sees me. I blow her a kiss and mouth the words, ‘I love you’ at her. She giggles and mouths them back before heading on her way.

It suddenly occurs to me that if Ben could see me now, he’d be torn between punching me for all the things I’ve done with his sister, and laughing at me for losing my heart to her in suchan obvious way. Because there’s no getting away from it; I’ve fallen hard. I’ve never been so demonstrative, or so affectionate, or so emotional. Not that I care. I don’t care who knows how I feel about Harley, although I guess I ought to find a way of telling Ben about it, before someone else does.

I head back up the stairs, giving that some thought, but when I get to the apartment, I’m suddenly overwhelmed by how quiet it is. Harley’s not here, and that makes all the difference. She may have only been here since Saturday night, but I miss her so much I ache… and that has nothing to do with my back.

In the end, I filled the time between Harley leaving and opening the store, by clearing away the breakfast things, tidying the apartment, making the bed, and getting dressed. I took my time, getting downstairs at around nine-thirty, which gave me thirty minutes to go through the mail and fix myself a coffee before opening the store at ten.

Unlike at the doctor’s office, Mondays are traditionally fairly quiet, and today has been no exception. That’s unfortunate, because it allows my mind to keep drifting back to the last time I was in here, which was Saturday. Just two days ago. I can still remember how nervous I was about going over to Harley’s place… about whether the flowers would have been delivered… whether she’d even be there, and if she was, whether she’d throw my peace offering in my face. If things went well, I thought we might have dinner, and I might steal a kiss at the end of the evening. I never expected things would develop between us as quickly as they have, but I never thought I’d face losing her, either, and I shudder against the thought, and the memory, clenching my fists as the scene flashes before my eyes in a terrifying slow-motion replay. The truck, the lights, the rain… the realization I couldn’t do anything. Well… I could. I could drop the bike and hope to get Harley out of it in one piece.That was it. That was my best hope… my master plan. To force a crash in the hope of controlling it. It wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I had, and I can remember vividly how scared I was that it wouldn’t work… and that I’d lose her. It’s strange, but I didn’t think about myself at all… just her.

My hands are shaking, my heart beating way too fast. I feel clammy and light-headed. Am I gonna faint? Do I need to sit before I fall? No. I need to hold Harley. I need her in my arms, so I know she’s safe. As long as I know that, I’ll be fine. It’s because she’s not here that I feel so out of control.

My phone rings, making me jump, although I’m grateful for the interruption, and I pull it from my back pocket, smiling when I see Harley’s name on the screen.

“Hey, babe,” I answer straight away, trying to sound as normal as I can, even though I’m still struggling with the memories.

“It’s not Harley.” The male voice takes me by surprise and I forget everything else, a tingle of fear creeping up my spine.

“Who is this?”

“It’s Reed Dodds. Do you think you could come to my office? Harley’s asking for you.”

I could ask why, or what’s wrong with her, but none of that matters. Instead, I just say, “I’m on my way,” grabbing my keys as I’m speaking. I hang up the call and run for the door, taking longer than I should to lock it because my hands are shaking so much. I get there in the end, though, and then sprint down the street, dodging between a few people, who stare after me, clearly confused.

Within two minutes, I push open the door of the doctor’s office, my heart breaking when I see Harley sitting at her desk in floods of tears. Doctor Dodds is standing beside her, wearing a white coat over his shirt and pants, looking helpless, hisexpression changing to relief when he raises his dark head and sees me.

“Are you Pierce?” he says, reminding me we’ve never been formally introduced.

“Yes.”

He steps back and I round Harley’s desk, taking his place, and kneeling beside her. “What’s wrong, babe?” I ask, pulling her into my arms.

She’s sobbing so much, she can’t speak, and I look up at the doctor, desperate for an explanation.

“I don’t know what happened,” he says. “I came out here to ask about a patient, and she just burst into tears. She did it once before, last Friday, I think it was, but then she was able to tell me what it was about. This time, she hasn’t been able to tell me anything, other than to ask if I’d call you. I used her phone because it was quicker than looking up your details on your patient record.”

I nod my head, turning back to Harley. I’ll admit I’m intrigued by why she was crying on Friday, but that doesn’t seem as relevant as finding out why she’s crying now. “Is this about the accident?” I ask, recalling how I felt just now, reliving it by myself, and how much I needed to hold her. I wonder if she feels the same. She nods her head, proving me right, and I tighten my grip on her, hoping it’ll help.

“What accident?” the doctor says from behind me.

“We had an accident on Saturday night,” I explain. “A truck pulled out in front of my motorcycle, and we came off. Or, to be more precise, I dropped the bike. I had no choice. It was the only way I could control what happened next.”

“And what happened next?” he asks, moving closer, unable to disguise the concern in his voice.

“We skidded along the road for about fifty yards or so. I was on my back, and Harley was on top of me, but she’s hurt her leg, and her shoulder. I did my best to—”

“It sounds like you did everything you could,” he says, interrupting me, and stepping even closer still. “Do either of you need me to examine you?”

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