Wide Open (21 page)

Kurtis leaves the engine rumbling as he steps out of the car. He’s nothing but shadow against the glare of his headlights. An ominous, hulking form made of muscle and vengeance bearing down on Derrick.
His body moves with a surprising amount of grace for its size, but there’s an energy emanating from him. Something coiled tight inside his massive body and I think this is how he feels on the field before he strikes. Power building inside until it can’t be contained anymore. Until it bursts forward in a rushing force that pounds in his heart and his feet. In his fists.

He surveys me quickly, looking for injuries.

“Are you okay?” he asks gruffly.

“Yeah. He didn’t touch me.”

“Not yet.”

“No,” I admit, finally appreciating the importance of the distinction. “Not yet.”

His eyes swing to Derrick. “She doesn’t want you here. Fuck off.”

I smile at the simple elegance of his warning. Kurtis has never been one to waste words. Why would he start now?

Derrick glares at him angrily. “This doesn’t have shit to do with you.”

“Leave.”

“She and I have a history. We have a connection you can’t begin to understand.”

“I understand your
connection.
It’s why I’m telling you to leave. Now.”

“I’m not going anywhere without her.”

“I’ve told you three times,” Kurtis reminds him darkly. “You’ve burned through all of my patience. This is your last chance.”

Derrick surprises us both when he suddenly lunges to the right, darting around Kurtis. I take a hurried step back as he rushes toward me. His face is a grim mask of determination carved harshly into his normally handsome face by the headlights. I don’t recognize him. Not by sight. But something clicks when I see that look on his face. Something falls into place, like a missing page from a book has finally been found. Like his insides finally match his outside.

He’s fast as he sprints toward me, but Kurtis is faster. He reaches out with his long arm and clotheslines Derrick, knocking him back off his feet to the ground. Derrick lands hard. He goes still, the wind knocked out of him. It takes three long seconds for him to cough, gasping for breath to refill his vacant lungs. He rolls over on his side and coughs again raggedly.

Kurtis stands over him, waiting patiently. He’s a statue. A monolith. The world could pass for eons around him, washing away, eroding to nothing, but still he’d stand guard. Still he’d stay. As long as I’m in danger, Kurtis Matthews will not be moved.

“Harper is going to go inside and pack a bag,” he tells Derrick’s writhing form. “She’s going to come to my place and stay with me for the next three nights. That’s how long you have to sort your head out. I’m being generous. I hope you appreciate that.”

Derrick groans something I can’t hear. Something that makes Kurtis crouch down low next to him, his shadow engulfing Derrick in darkness.

“You’re never going to see her again. You don’t work with her anymore. You don’t talk to her. You don’t think about her.”

“You don’t speak for her,” Derrick argues roughly. “I won’t talk to anyone but her.”

He sits up, moving to stand.

Kurtis shoves his shoulder, effortlessly pushing him back down onto the ground. “Harper,” he calls over his shoulder to me. “Is he fired?”

“Yes.”

“Do you ever want to see him again?”

“Never.”

He shrugs at Derrick. “There you go. She can speak for herself and she says to fuck off.”

“She didn’t—“

“Fuck off, Derrick,” I shout to him.

He squints into the headlights, trying to see me better. He never can’t. He never could.

Kurtis leans in to block him. “My address is 758 Greenbow. Apartment 17. Repeat it back to me. Where do I live? Where will Harper be?”

Derrick doesn’t speak. He goes to stand up again. Kurtis immediately pushes him back.

“What’s the address, douchebag?” he demands.

Derrick glares up at him. “758 Greenbriar—“

“Greenbow.”

“Greenbow, apartment 17.”

“Say it again.”

“758 Greenbow. Apartment 17,” Derrick spits angrily.

“Good. Now you know it. That’s where she’ll be. You need to remember that because you leaving her alone, that’s a choice you’re going to make. I don’t want you to stay away because you can’t find her because as soon as you can, you’ll be back to this shit and that’s not going to happen. You’re going to stay away because you know it’s the smart thing to do. A dumb thing to do would be to show up on my doorstep. If that happens, Derrick, I won’t be responsible for what happens to you. You read me?”

“You don’t know who the—“

Kurtis hits him.

I jump, startled by the hard sound of skin and bone making contact. It happens fast, too fast to follow, but the end result is obvious. It’s all over Derrick’s face; a bright red river running from his nose, over his lips. He lays back on the ground, his hands covering his face as he moans.

Kurtis sits over him, waiting. “You wanna try that again?”

Derrick doesn’t answer him, but that’s all the answer Kurtis needs. Silence is the song of his people.

“Harper, go inside and get your stuff,” he tells me, never taking his eyes off Derrick. “We’re leaving.”

I don’t fight him. I don’t tell him I can stay in my apartment, I don’t tell him I’ve got this. I don’t tell him that I don’t need his help, that I can handle Derrick from here. I don’t tell him any of that because I don’t want to lie to him. Him or myself. Not anymore.

I hurry upstairs, throwing my apartment door open wide. I’m a tornado tearing through my apartment, grabbing clothes and toiletries, tossing them into a duffle bag and hoisting it over my shoulder. It takes me less than five breathless minutes to get in and out, locking the door behind me and practically running down the steps out onto the lawn.

Kurtis is exactly as I left him. He sees me out of the corner of his eye. He motions to the Challenger. I toss my stuff into the back and climb into the passenger seat to wait for him. He follows closely behind me.

Derrick stays on the ground.

The car shifts on its springs as Kurtis drops down into the driver seat. He slams his door, revs the engine hard, and tears off the lawn. Derrick is released from the headlights, his prone body disappearing into the dark. Out of my life.

“Hold on,” Kurtis warns me as the car jumps roughly off the curb onto the street. It loses traction for half a second before the back wheels make contact, then it’s off like a bullet out of a gun.

KURTIS

“Thank you,” Harper tells me quietly. Her eyes are focused on my hand. On the blood spotted rag she’s dabbing against the split in my skin across my knuckles. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come.”

“I promised I would.”

She smiles sadly. “And you always deliver.

“Always.”

She swipes an antiseptic wipe over my knuckles, setting fire to my nerves. I hiss sharply through my teeth. She winces apologetically. She doesn’t say a word.

I rub my free hand over my mouth. It’s shaking slightly. I try to hide it from her but she can see the tremors in my hand held in hers. She knows I’m jittery. I’m amped up in an unhealthy way. The adrenaline that flooded my body when I got her texts is filtering out of my system, but it’s taking it’s time. I probably won’t sleep tonight and that’s okay. I need to sit watch in case Derrick decides to do something stupid.

“I’m going to get a restraining order,” she says softly. Her words are hesitant. Frightened feathers in a whirlwind, battered back and forth on currents of regret and shame.

“This wasn’t you,” I assure her. I curl the fingers of my injured hand around hers, holding her as she holds onto me. “You didn’t bring this on yourself.”

“I should have dealt with him sooner. I should have fired him last year when he first scared me, but I was too proud. I was afraid and I was angry at him for making me feel that way. I let him stay around so I could prove to myself that I could handle it. I think I wanted to convince myself I was stronger than him.”

“You are.”

“I wish I believed that.”

“I’ll believe it for you. I’ll remind you of it every day until you believe it too. Until you know it, because it’s true.”

Harper smiles reticently, her eyes searching for mine in the low light of my apartment. A single bare bulb burns over the tiny kitchen table, shadowing us harshly. She looks tired. Beautiful and fragile in a way I never thought possible. Vulnerable like she’s falling apart. Like her eyes are going blind and she’s begging me to stay with her. To guard her.

“I’m listening,” she whispers breathlessly.

Her faith messes me up. It twists a dagger in my side, shooting pain through my body so sharply that it’s hard to get a full breath. She’s trusted me from the start. She’s had faith in me from the moment I met her, and I think that’s why I’ve clung to my secrets for so long. It’s not that I don’t trust her with the truth. It’s that I don’t want to lose that look in her eyes. I like being the man she’s looking for. Solid. Reliable. Faithful.

I lift her hand holding mine. I kiss the soft skin across the back of it, the citrus scent of her filling my nose. My body. My blood. It eases the pain in my side like balm on a wound.

I stand, pulling her with me. “You should get some sleep. You look like you’re about to fall over.”

She scans the room, doing an inventory of my furniture. It doesn’t take long. A simple gray couch sits in front of an entertainment stand housing a meager TV. A bed is pushed against the far wall. It’s made neatly, the yellow sheets tucked in tightly under the black comforter. A nightstand is crammed full of old paperback mysteries and a handful of Idiot’s Guides to home repair. The table we’ve been sitting at is flanked by two metal legged chairs. A wardrobe looms in another corner, full to bursting of clothes and shoes, a matching dresser cowering next to it. And that’s it. That’s my world.

“I got rid of a lot of stuff when I moved back and forth from Cali to Montana,” I explain, answering the question she’s afraid to ask. It all comes back to my secrets, to the money, and she doesn’t want to touch that tonight. To be honest, neither do I. Right now I want her to sleep. I want her to feel safe and I want some time to sort myself out. To find the right words for the wrongs I’ve done.

“It’s nice,” she lies.

I chuckle, scratching my shoulder nervously. “Yeah, it’s not, but it’s nice of you to say it.”

“I like it. Not the apartment itself, you’re right; it’s tiny. But I like what you’ve done with it. It’s clean. Uncluttered. Is it weird to say I feel like I can breathe here?”

“Yes.”

“Thanks,” she chuckles. She goes to her bag by the bed, pulling tangled lengths of clothing out of it. She packed in a hurry and I think she’s surprised to find what’s inside the bag. Like she doesn’t remember making the choices she made. A frown gathers on her face as she reaches the bottom of the bag. “Oh no.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t pack anything to sleep in. Do you have any shorts or sweats I could borrow?”

“Yeah, I’ve got something.” I gesture to the bed as I turn to the dresser. “You can have the bed too. I’ll take the couch or the floor.”

“No, I’m not pushing you out of your own bed.”

“I’m not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You need a good night’s sleep and that couch isn’t going to let you have it. Trust me.”

“That does not make me feel any better about sending you to sleep on it.”

I pull a pair of running shorts with a long drawstring out of the drawer. “You’re not. I’m probably going to sleep on the floor. It’ll be more comfortable.”

“And I feel worse.”

I’m glad she doesn’t offer to share the bed with me. The waters between us are muddy at best and now is not the time to confuse them any more than they already are.

“Here,” I hand her the shorts. “If it makes you feel any better, those are my least favorite pair. They ride up in the ass. Have fun with that.”

Harper smiles as she takes them from me. She doesn’t hesitate and she doesn’t wait for me to turn away before unzipping her jeans, shimmying them down her legs. They pool on the floor at her delicate feet, giving me a good long look at her smooth skin. My heart thrums readily at the sight, my memory throwing out images and sensations that I don’t need right now. The feel of her thighs against my hips. My face. The perfect V at their apex, always so ready for me.

Muddy goddamn waters.

I turn away toward the kitchen. “I’m gonna have a beer. You want a beer?”

“No, thanks. Alcohol keeps me awake.”

Ten minutes later she’s asleep. She asked me to put something on the television to distract her brain, and the second I tuned us into the DIY Network, she was out. She’s curled up on her side in her tank top and bra, my running shorts riding up her legs, probably embedded in her ass as promised. She looks comfortable, though. She’s sleeping soundly, and even as I pull the comforter up over her, she doesn’t stir. She doesn’t miss a beat in the slow rise and fall of her chest as I lean down to kiss the corner of her mouth.

She’s safe. That simple truth cuts through me like a knife and I ache because of it. I feel proud and afraid as I look down at her, like I’ve been entrusted with something too precious to handle.

It’s more than I deserve but I’ll die deserving it.

She unpacked her bag on the floor by the bed and I’m not surprised to find her small camcorder on top of the pile. She takes it everywhere with her. Even in her mad rush through her apartment to pack, I was counting on her having it. I pick it up, checking to make sure it’s locked and loaded.

The battery is full. The memory is empty.

I pound my beer, pulling every drop from it until it’s gone.

I wish it was bourbon.

I wish I didn’t need it.

I wish I wasn’t so chicken shit afraid to open up.

***

Harper wakes up around four in the morning. I don’t know if she had the habit before working with us, but practice comes early in the NFL. We don’t always wait for daylight and her crew has been there every time without fail. I normally get to work early, but Harper was always there earlier. Today is an off day and still she wakes up without an alarm. I think it’s a part of her nature. Something she learned long before she met me.

“Good morning,” she mumbles when she sees me.

I’m parked at the kitchen table, a glass of orange juice in my hand. Her camcorder sits silver and shining in the center of the dark table.

I lift my glass to her. “Morning.”

“Did you sleep at all?”

“Not yet.”

“He won’t come here, Kurtis,” she promises me. She sits up slowly against the wall behind the bed. “He’s crazy but he’s smart. He won’t want to fight you again.”

I smirk, bringing the cup to my lips. “That wasn’t a fight. That wasn’t even a conversation.”

“Well, whatever it was, he won’t come looking for a repeat. He’ll stay away.”

“When are you getting the restraining order?”

Harper blanches, looking away. I worry that she’s changed her mind about talking to the police, but then her mouth draws tightly into a stern line that’s straight as her spine. “Today. I texted Travis on the way here last night. He’s going to take me to talk to the police this morning.”

I try not to let it bother me that Travis is taking her. That she didn’t ask me. But Travis has more firsthand experience with this guy than I do. He can back up her stories about the stalking and harassment better than I can.

Still stings, though.

“Let me know if you need me to talk to them about what happened last night,” I offer, draining my glass.

“I hope it doesn’t come to that. I don’t want to see Derrick press charges against you.”

“I’m not worried about that.”

“I am,” she insists. “But I shouldn’t have to drag you into it. There are enough voicemails and text messages to prove my case.”

“You saved them all?”

“Yeah. I did. Part of me knew, you know? I knew he was going to be a problem but I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t handle it. It was scarier thinking I couldn’t.”

I take my cup to the sink, nodding in understanding. She craves control and this thing with Derrick, it got away from her. I think she hates that more than anything else; that she lost control.

“Do you want anything to eat?” I offer. “I don’t have much here but I can run out and get you something.”

“Why is my camera out?”

I pause with my hands hovering over the counter. I lower them slowly, taking hold of the cold surface with an iron grip. “I made something for you,” I tell her quietly.

“A sexy something?” she teases lightly.

I’m grateful for it. It makes me smile. It lets me forget the apprehension building in my body. “Sorry, no such luck.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a…” I hesitate, turning to face her. I cross my arms over my chest like I’m trying to hold myself together. “It’s kind of a confessional.”

“What sins do you have to confess?” She pauses, her eyes slowly going wide as realization fills them. “Oh. Did you—is it about what I think it’s about?”

“Yeah. It is.”

Harper’s shoulders sag sadly. “Kurtis, you don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, I do,” I argue. “I owe it to you.”

“I shouldn’t have said that. You don’t owe me anything, and even if you did, you paid whatever debt you had to me in full last night. With interest.”

I look at her hard, my face resolute. “I need to do this. Let me do this. Please.”

Harper hesitates. She glances at the table. At my honesty. “Are you going to watch it with me?”

“No.” I laugh shortly, the sound rough in my rushing ears. I go to the table. “Recording it was enough. I’m sick of the whole story.”

I take the camcorder to my entertainment unit, plugging it into the back of the TV. Harper is off the bed and settling onto my couch when I turn around to hand the remote to her. She takes it tentatively, her expression torn.

“I feel like I’m stealing from you. Like I’m getting something for nothing.”

“I’ll give you anything you want, Harper.”

“Why did you record it? Why won’t you just tell me?”

“Because I’m a coward.”

She laughs incredulously. “You’re absolutely not a coward, Kurtis.”

“I am about this. I can’t watch it with you. The idea of you seeing it has me so damn nervous I’m planning on going outside and vomiting here in a minute.”

“Then why give it to me?”

I lean down to kiss her forehead. To tell her goodbye. “Because I trust you.”

She surprises me when she takes hold of my face and pulls me lower. Her lips meet mine, slow and dangerous. Delicious. I feel myself falling as she holds me fast.

“Thank you,” she whispers against my mouth.