Page 112 of I See You

Harper froze, hands up in surrender. “Damn! I’m joking. You stay looking like you wanna fight when somebody say something about that man. I swear, you look at him like he your best friend, not me.”

Sevyn chuckled, trying to shake it off. “Nobody comes before you, boo. Don’t get jealous now. I’m just like that with all my clients. Say something sideways about Xavier, and I’ll give you the same look.”

“Wait, hold up—Xavier’s one of your clients?” Harper’s mouth dropped open. “That’s how you know that nigga? Girl!” She slumped dramatically in her seat. “Why do I keep surrounding myself with fine, crazy-ass men?”

“He’s not crazy!” Sevyn snapped, then softened. “You don’t have to be crazy to go to therapy, Harper. That’s half the problem with how our people see healing.”

“You right,” Harper admitted. “But your type of therapy? The men who come to you? They’ve been through some shit. So what’s Xavier’s deal? PTSD? Bipolar? Schizo? Just batshit nuts?”

Sevyn sighed, debating. She shouldn’t say anything. She couldn’t say anything. But Harper was her best friend—and despite all the tough talk, Sevyn saw the way she looked when Xavier name was spoken.

“Why you wanna know so bad?” Sevyn asked, smirking. “You don’t even like him, remember?”

“I don’t,” Harper snapped. “But I gotta deal with the nigga four times a week for two-hour sessions, so I need to know what the hell I’m dealing with.”

Sevyn hesitated. Then caved. “He has IED. Intermittent Explosive Disorder. But he’s working through it. And he’s trying to get better— that’s what matters.”

Harper went quiet. No eye rolls. No jokes. Just a small nod and a quick glance out the window.

She already knew that look. Harper might not have been ready to admit it, but something about Xavier had her curiosity hooked—and her guard up.

And Sevyn? She’d be damned if she let her best friend walk into something blind.

“No judgment,” Harper started, her tone cool but decisive. “But I’m definitely not going on a date with him now.”

Sevyn smacked her lips, throwing her a look. “Why? Because he has anger issues?”

Harper’s head turned slowly, eyes locking with hers. “Look, Sev. You might’ve grown up with loving parents, in a safe-ass neighborhood, went to top schools and shit, but I didn’t.”

“First of all, yes, my parents are solid,” Sevyn fired back. “But I went to hood public schools my whole life. I might’ve been privileged, but I ain’t blind to real life or stuck up.”

Harper blinked, surprised. But she shook her head and kept going, her voice more grounded now, realer. “Still. You don’t get it. I never saw both my parents in the same room. Hell, I don’t even know the woman I came out of. My father? Pimped her out. Strung her out. Got her pregnant and dipped—leaving her to die. He chose drugs over me, every damn time.”

Sevyn swallowed, her heart tugging at the vulnerability in Harper’s tone. But Harper wasn’t finished.

“I grew up watching my cousin—who I love like a brother—become one of the coldest, most dangerous men I’ve ever met. And yeah, I love Hassan, but Sevyn, that man is not normal. Whether you want to defend him or not, he’s unstable.”

“Harper—”

“No, let me finish,” she said quickly. “So when it comes to Xavier, I’m sure he’s sweet, I’m sure he’s working through his issues. But I’ve already lived in chaos. I’ve already survived mental instability and emotional neglect. I’m not trying to date it too.”

She paused, then added quietly, “I want peace. I want something— someone—that don’t feel like survival.”

Sevyn nodded slowly, the weight of Harper’s truth settling between them like fog. She didn’t take it personal. She couldn’t. Harper wasn’t coming from a place of judgment—she was coming from experience.

“I get it,” Sevyn said softly. “I really do. And I hope you get that kind of love, Harp. The kind that’s quiet in the best way. Safe. Steady. Real. The kind that doesn’t remind you of where you came from, but where you’re going. Someone who sees you beyond your trauma and loves Harper Gaines for exactly who she is now.”

Harper smiled through watery eyes, sniffling. “Bitch, your ass is good with words.”

Sevyn laughed. “No, hoe. You just sensitive. You the most crybaby- ass gangster I know.”

Harper cracked up because it was true. All bark, big bite—but soft as baby wipes underneath it all.

“I thought that was Dorian,” she joked.

Sevyn looked at her sideways. “I’ve known Dorian since the womb. That bitch don’t cry. If she ain’t smiling, she’s mad—and somebody getting their face beat in.”

They both burst into laughter.

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