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  “Harper, you look wonderful! Doctor Forrester told me how well you’re progressing lately. She also told me about the young man who’s been visiting you…I have to say I was a little concerned at first, but she’s explained how she thinks he’s helping you. So, I’ve given my permission for the visits to continue…”

  My face contorts with frustration. I hadn’t given any thought to the fact that my doctor would be discussing my Flynn time with my father. What happened to patient confidentiality? I’m an adult. I can decide who visits me, not my parents. I’m angry. I feel my fists clenching by my sides, and my gaze drifts from my father’s face on the screen to my hands. It still amazes me that I can move my hands when I want to. It’s becoming more frequent now, not just when Flynn’s here. The other day, I spent hours flexing my fingers, just wiggling them, spreading them wide and tapping them on the bed. I even contemplated pressing the nurse call button but chickened out at the last minute. One day my fist may just be able to connect with his jaw, knock him out even. Just pushing him away would be enough for now though.

  Flynn would be really impressed with me if I did. Thinking about him causes a smile to flourish across my face.

  “Oh, dear God! Harper, you smiled for me! That is amazing! Doctor Forrester was right; you are making progress, finally. You don’t know how much of a relief that is, honey.” The look on his face is one of love. It’s the first time he’s looked at me like that since I came around from the accident. Such a shame it took him moving thousands of miles away to get that look back. “I was worried that my…move, would really affect you badly.” One of his shoulders lifts ever so slightly in a shrug. “It seems to have had the opposite effect. Honey, have I ever told you how proud of you I am?” Pop’s eyes have lowered, his head shaking from side to side as he breathes deeply. “I really want you to know that I am so very proud of you.”

  Without a second thought, my hand lifts to my cheek, swiping away the tear that’s broken free from my eye. It’s a monumental moment, marked loudly by my father’s shrieks of joy. The noise makes me jump, and I let my arm to drop heavily back to the bed. Shit. I need to be more careful. I’m not ready, not yet.

  “Harper! Honey, you moved! The doctor never told me you were moving now! Oh, honey, I knew you could do it! Penny! Penny, she moved, Harper moved!” The curly blonde hair comes into view on the screen before she does, and I have to say, Seb was right; she sure does have an impressive rack. I’m pretty sure they’re fake though. They have that high-up, rounded look to them, like they’ll defy gravity even when she hits ninety. I have to stifle a giggle as I visualise her all old and wrinkly with the breasts of an eighteen-year-old, standing to attention proudly.

  “Way to go, girly!” Penny-with-the-awesome-rack waves at me from the screen. I manage a faint smile in response, but it’s lost on them. My father’s attention is now focused on the awesomeness that is his girlfriend. Of course it would be. The rack is obviously much more interesting than a daughter who just moved her arm unaided.

  “Harper, honey, we have to run now, but I’ll talk to you again real soon. Perhaps now you’re on the mend, you can think about visiting us when you’re able to.” He may be talking to me, but his gaze is focused on those gravity-defying breasts.

  The odd couple wave at me from the screen before my father leans forward to disconnect the call. As the screen goes black, I feel relieved. Relieved that it’s over for another week, at least.

  Gathering my thoughts, I almost miss the swishing noise of the door being pushed open. It’s his voice that alerts me to his presence. “No, don’t worry. I’ll shut down the call for Harper. I’m sure you have much more important things to be getting on with.”

  My blood runs like ice through my veins. It’s too soon, and I haven’t had time to prepare for his visit. The timing’s all wrong. It isn’t his day to visit. The relief I felt moments ago is long gone, only to be replaced by fear and nausea. The bile is slowly rising, burning the back of my throat as he progresses across the room.

  “Harper, it’s good to see you again.” His voice is dark and chilling, indicating the purpose of his visit. Not that he visits for any other reason. He adjusts his clothing as he sits on the bed beside me. I’ve turned my face away from him. Seeing him close up isn’t something I want to focus on. The smell of him is enough. The dense, pungent aroma of his cheap aftershave is sickening as it claws away at my throat, competing with the bile that’s now threatening to spill from my mouth. He’s always worn the same cologne. For years I’ve endured that stench.

  Cold, bony fingers grasp my chin, turning my face towards him. “Open your eyes, Harper. It’s rude to sleep when you have a visitor.” The oily tang wafts up towards my nostrils; years of tinkering with engines has left the odour ingrained in the skin of his hands. My stomach roils at the stench, causing me to whip my chin free from his grasp. “Feisty today, are we? I thought we’d moved past all that nonsense. I like it though. The spirit in you is very attractive, Harper.”

  Fingers trace their way down my neck, towards my chest. As one hand dips inside my top, my eyes screw even tighter shut, and I begin the slow, methodical process of numbing my body and mind to his touch. It was so much easier to do when he didn’t talk while he carried out his torture. His voice is so much harder than his touch to block out. “I like this no-bra rule you seem to have adopted. It makes things a whole lot easier. So considerate of you.”

  His breathing is shallow as his fingers find their target inside my top. The rough skin of his thumb rasps against my nipple as his fingers knead my breast. “Good girl, so eager to please.”

  The vomit forces its way out of mouth, spraying over us both. I’m not sure if it’s an involuntary reaction that causes my finger to push firmly down on the emergency call button, or a conscious effort on my behalf, but the alarm button flashes neon under my fingers. It’s silent in my room, but I can hear it ringing down the corridor at the nurse’s station.

  My abuser is unaware of the alarm. Instead he’s wiping away the vomit from his clothes with his free hand, no intention of freeing my breast from his grasp.

  Nurse Smarty Pants rushes through the door, taking in the sight of him with his hand inside my clothing, “Oh, I’m sorry. The alarm sounded…” The hand slowly slides out from it’s hiding place, making no mistake to ensure he has the nurse fixed in his glare.

  “It was my fault. I must have pressed it accidentally. Harper is fine, aren’t you? I was just having a little…personal time with my girlfriend, as you can see. I cleared it with the Nursing Sister earlier. I’m sure if you check your files, the visit request will be recorded. Now, if you don’t mind…”

  She looks flustered, her cheeks glowing pink as she smiles directly at me, missing my wide-eyed stare completely. “I’ll just reset the call button and leave you two alone…” A quick flick of a switch on the wall next to my bed and she’s gone, leaving me alone with him again.

  Stupid bitch.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Flynn

  “Syncope, or fainting, occurs when the blood flow to the brain is reduced for as little as five or six seconds. The brain's blood flow can be interrupted for a number of different reasons. Fortunately, in most cases, syncope is a benign condition, but in your case, Mrs Fisher, it’s indicative of an underlying heart condition.” The doctor is standing by Rose’s bed. She still hasn’t told the staff that we aren’t related. She’s shushed me on several occasions when I’ve tried to come clean, insisting it’s irrelevant.

  “We’ll be running a few more tests this afternoon, but it’s likely that your grandmother will need a pacemaker fitting.” He’s looking directly at me, as though I’m the responsible adult in all this chaos. In fact, as I glance at my brother and neighbour, so are they. I nod at the doctor, trying to look as though I have some understanding of what he’s just told us.

  Jacob is looking at me with terror in his eyes, clinging on to Rose’s hand as though she may disappear on him at any give
n second. I know he’s remembering when our mum was ill, and it breaks my heart that he’s going through this again. “It’s not a major operation, but it isn’t without its dangers either.” The doctor goes on to explain the pros and cons of the pending procedure to Rose, who just nods and smiles, taking it all in her stride.

  “Do you have any other family you’d like us to contact, Mrs Fisher?” the nurse standing quietly to my left asks.

  “No, dear, it’s just me and my boys these days. They’re all I need.” Rose reaches over to squeeze my hand. Strangely, it’s a comforting feeling, but I feel guilty that it’s not me offering the support. Rose is supporting Jacob and me, just like she has done for the past few years. I get the feeling that now is the time I need to start repaying her, instead of taking her for granted.

  The nurse’s gaze flicks over the tag around my ankle, causing me to fidget uncomfortably until my jeans fall over the embellishment, covering it from prying eyes. I never thought I’d be bothered by the tag, but it does bother me, makes me feel worthless. As if I don’t already know what a piece of shit I’ve been the last few years, the tag acts as not only my constant reminder but also a reminder to everyone else. Rose notices that she’s suddenly sporting a look of disdain, and it’s directed solely at me. “Flynn got into a little trouble awhile back, but that’s all behind him now. He’s a good boy, really.”

  The nurse only smiles sympathetically in my neighbour’s direction, offering Rose her pity at my misdemeanour. I don’t care what the nurse thinks of me. I’m used to being judged by people who don’t know me. She doesn’t know me. People just think they know my type. “Now, dear, let’s not offer judgement on things we have no knowledge of. It’s really very impolite.”

  Jacob’s snorting with laughter at my defender’s words. Rose is looking at the nurse with raised eyebrows, waiting on my apology. When it doesn’t come, Rose clears her throat and speaks again. “I’m not sure you understood me. I would like you to apologise to my boy for that filthy look you just gave him.” The nurse flushes crimson and mumbles her regret before scurrying out the door with her tail firmly between her legs.

  I’m stunned by the old woman’s gutsy behaviour, but I’m even more stunned when I turn to see her and my brother high-fiving each other.

  Just what is Jacob teaching her? The woman is a legend!

  “Who are you and what have you done with the sweet old lady that we brought into the hospital?” Incredulous at her mettle, I’m studying her as she giggles like a naughty schoolgirl caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “I think we should leave you to rest. C’mon, Jay. We’ll come back tomorrow, see how you’re doing.”

  Jacob leans over and kisses Rose on the cheek. “Bye, Grandma Rose!” He’s beaming at the older woman as she pinches his cheek.

  Checking her watch, she regards me cautiously. I’d not realised the time either. I have approximately ten minutes to make it home before the tag on my ankle kicks into life, notifying the authorities that I’m out past my curfew. Shit. We have to move fast. “Here, take this and call a taxi. I don’t want you in any more trouble because I fainted.” She’s waving money at me that she just dug out of her purse. If I weren’t desperate, there’s no way I’d take money from her. Judging by the way she’s looking at me, she knows it too. “Flynn, take it and get going. Text me when you’re both home.” With that, she shoves the money into Jacob’s hand and shoos us both out of the ward.

  “She’s gonna be okay, right, Flynn?” The nervousness in his voice is evident. He’s scared and vulnerable and I need to protect him. I need to be his protector.

  “Jay, I can’t promise you that, but I hope so. She looked all right when we left. We can visit tomorrow. She’ll have had the tests done then.” I don’t want to give him any false hope, but I may just re-open the communication lines with the “Big Guy” in the sky tonight. If only for my brother’s sake. He’s too young to go through losing someone else so soon after Mum.

  Raising my arm in the air, I signal us a passing taxi. I really do need to get home now.

  As the car pulls up outside our front door, I leave Jacob to pay the driver as I sprint up the path and wrestle with my keys. I can hear the phone ringing on the other side. Holy fuck, I’m screwed if I don’t pick that up. Almost falling through the door, I lunge at the phone, desperate to get to it before the caller rings off.

  “Hello?” I answer the call as I drop down to sit on the bottom stair.

  “Flynn Sullivan?”

  “Yeah, that’s me.” Jacob slams the front door shut and tosses me the change from the taxi fare. At his age I would have pocketed it, but he isn’t me. He’s proved that on more than one occasion.

  “Mr Sullivan, your tracking device has indicated that you’re out past curfew, but obviously, as we’re speaking now, it’s a fault. I’ll have someone check the receiver out tomorrow. Goodnight, Mr Sullivan.” And he’s gone, not waiting for my response.

  Well, that was a close call, one I’m not keen on repeating anytime soon. To be over fifteen minutes late on my enforced curfew is a sure way to get myself locked up, and that would mean Jacob going into foster care.

  It also means I wouldn’t see Harper again. That’s something I don’t want to think about. In such a short space of time, she’s come to be such a big part of my lift—a big part of my recovery, if you like.

  That’s how I’ve come to think of my community payback hours—recovery. If it weren’t for my sentence, I wouldn’t have met Harper.

  And they say crime doesn’t pay.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Harper

  Ever since I stupidly moved whilst Skyping my father, the white coats have gone into overdrive. The physiotherapy sessions have increased to twice daily now, on my father’s say-so. Apparently he’s intent on getting me well now. “Enough of this nonsense now, Harper, let’s get this done,” was the last thing he said to me.

  My mother is still AWOL. She’s really taken to her therapy by all accounts. I can’t complain. I’m enjoying the reprieve from being read to from the same damn book over and over again. I remain unconvinced that she’s actually in therapy. More likely she’s taken herself away on holiday. The need to recover from her broken marriage is obviously a priority.

  The silence and lack of visitors is strangely comforting. Apart from the video chats with my father, and Flynn’s visits, I’m pretty much alone these days. I try not to think about his visits. They’re just a blot on an otherwise serene existence. Apart from him, I have no worries in life, no responsibilities to weigh me down. Racing took over a big part of my life before the accident, everything focused on my next target, the next sponsors, and my father’s need for me to succeed where he had failed. Sure, I loved the thrill of driving at dangerous speeds, the way the car handled as I threw it around the track, pure adrenalin coursing through my veins every time I got behind the wheel. It was exhilarating.

  Do I miss it? I don’t know, is the simple answer. Maybe. Maybe not. I certainly don’t miss seeing him on a daily basis. Having to endure the attention, the constant passing touches, or the groping when he managed to secure the workshop with me inside it.

  I miss the adrenalin rush, that’s for sure. The thrill of being one of a very small number of female drivers in my field is a huge buzz. But it’s not a buzz that I can’t get from something else. I could get better, regain my strength and leave hospital, but still walk away from racing without a moment’s hesitation. I’m assured that my spot on the team is waiting for me, whenever I’m ready, but how easy would it be to slip behind the wheel again? The need to prove myself all over again is thought provoking. There are certain expectations when you reach the level I was at. Racing is just like any other job; you’re only as good as your last race. People remember just how good I was. I’m not sure I can give them that now.

  As my eyes drift shut, I’m transported back to the track. The engine noise envelops me like a security blanket. On the track is where I’m in charge, whe
re I make all the decisions. Nobody drives the car for me. I screwed up, I paid the price.

  I’m right back at my last ever race. The noise is deafening as I stand in the pit, all suited up and ready to don my helmet. Stu’s giving me last-minute words of advice as the guys finish last-minute tweaks on my car. Someone holds out a steadying hand for me to hold while I climb into the car, positioning myself low behind the wheel. The feel of the engine rumbles through my body, kickstarting my desire to get out there. Stuart fastens my harness, adjusting it accordingly, then he appears, my helmet in his grubby little fist. I try not to acknowledge him, but he leans in close to whisper in my ear before pushing the helmet firmly down over my head and fastening the chin strap. “I have a surprise for you.” The words echo chillingly around my head.

  “Hey, beautiful, are you really sleeping?” The gentle squeeze on my shoulder startles me, causing me to lift fractionally from the bed. “Shit! I’m sorry, did I scare you? The nurse said it was fine to come straight in.” It takes a minute or two for my eyes to focus, but when they do, I can’t stop the smile erupting on my face. Flynn’s here. “There you are! Were you having a bad dream? You’re shaking.” I nod and he frowns. “What can I do? Tell me what you need.”

  My fingers tap the bed beside me, and he questions me with a worried look. “You want me to hold your hand?” My head shakes from side to side and I tap again, opening my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. My throat feels dry and the damn feeding tube is like a freight train at the back of my throat. “Tell me, Harper. What do you want me to do?” He’s pushing me. He wants me to break my self-enforced silence.