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  Rose’s eyes narrow infinitesimally, her gaze drifting, becoming focused on her internal thoughts. If I look hard enough, I can almost see the cogs turning inside her brain as she figures out her next move. Without speaking another word to me, Rose levers herself out of the too-small chair. Moving across to the bed, she seeks out the buzzer for the nurse, pressing it firmly. She giggles as she winks directly at me.

  Okay, I’m currently stuck between thinking she’s a batty old bird and worrying that she’s actually a little crazy.

  “Everything okay, Harper?” Nurse Smarty Pants speaks from the doorway.

  “Yes, she’s fine, but we need a wheelchair, a taxi—oh, and she’ll probably need a coat. Thank you, Nurse.” Waving her hand, Rose dismisses the dumbstruck nurse before she has a chance to argue with her requests.

  “What…”

  “Shush, dear, let me do the worrying. Let’s just get you some shoes on first…” Rose busies herself opening the closet door and dragging out a pair of ballet pumps and a lightweight jacket, which she promptly wrestles me into just as the nurse comes back with the wheelchair.

  “Harper really shouldn’t leave the grounds. You’d need her doctor’s approval to take her out for the afternoon. I’m not sure she’s really up to that just yet.”

  “I understand that you don’t carry any authority around here, my dear, so don’t you worry that little head of yours. Just do as I asked and call me a taxi, please. Whether Harper joins me or not is up to her, surely.”

  The questioning gaze that both Rose and the nurse throw me is a little intimidating. “Where are we going, Rose?”

  “Why, to see Flynn, of course. Where else would we go?” Smiling sweetly, Rose gathers her bag as the nurse helps me into the chair.

  Of course we’re going to see him.

  He is my therapy.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Harper

  The journey isn’t too long, nor do I have time to fret myself into a blubbering wreck. Rose makes sure of that. The woman hasn’t stopped for breath since we left the rehab unit. She summoned the doctor and ordered that she give her permission for my little excursion, promising to have me back in one piece before the day was over. She’d thoroughly exhausted all and any conditions she’d need to adhere to regarding my safety with Dr Forrester. Rose somehow managed to convince her that my trip would actually be beneficial to my recovery, this woman has ways of manipulation I’ve never seen the likes of before. I bet nobody ever says no to Rose Fisher.

  The taxi pulls up outside the small terraced house, and Rose asks the driver to help her lift me into the chair, but I interrupt and insist that if he just help steady me, I can manage on my own. I don’t need some stranger lifting me from the car; life has been undignified enough without suffering that.

  Once the car rolls away down the street, Rose steadies my chair, flicking the brake on while she fishes her phone out of her bag. It still makes me giggle watching old people fumble around with technology.

  “Jacob, I’m out front with Harper, can you come and help me get her inside please? Thank you.” Her fingers hover over the phone as she squints, looking for the button to discontinue the call, she’s still looking for it when Jacob bounds out of the house and presses it for her.

  “Grandma Rose, what did you do? Do they know she’s here? You didn’t steal her, did you?” Jacob’s eyes dart around the street, checking for anyone lurking who may be about to arrest us all.

  “Of course I didn’t steal her! Goodness me, Jacob! Really, you watch far too much television. What do you think I did? Storm the building with a balaclava pulled down over my head? Is your brother home yet?”

  Jacob shakes his head as he chuckles, although he looks a little disappointed that there isn’t a whole lot more drama to my being here. Truthfully, I think the drama that is sure to evolve once Flynn arrives home is going to be enough.

  “Where is he?” I ask Jacob. He really is the double of his brother. If the age gap weren’t so big, you’d have trouble telling them apart.

  “He’s been to his last group therapy session. He’ll be back any minute. Boy is he going to be mad with you, Rose.” The young boy wheels me towards the house, tipping the chair backwards as we cross the threshold. I want to congratulate him on allaying my fears.

  The house smells of fresh paint and flowers. The décor is a little outdated, but at least it’s clean. It not quite what I expected, but it is homely. After parking my chair in the front room, Jacob and Rose disappear into the kitchen to fetch refreshments—as she calls them, drinks to me and you—leaving me alone with my thoughts.

  I have no idea how Flynn will react when he finds me here, invading his personal space. After all, we aren’t anything more than friends. I’m just somebody he visits while he works off his debt to society. I probably make the day go a little quicker for him, nothing more, nothing less. Yes, we’ve grown close in the last few weeks, but I think that’s me more than him. He’s become my lifeline to the outside world, the world I’ve chosen to shut myself away from for so long. He’s going to hate me being here, and I have no idea why I let Rose talk me into this.

  The nerves are kicking in now, the sweaty palms, fast heartbeat, and my hands are shaking as my fingers tap out a useless rhythm on the wheelchair arms. The knot in my stomach is so large it’s threatening to creep up and strangle me. What the Hell am I doing, sitting in Flynn’s house waiting for him to come home? If I could get up and find the strength to walk out the door, I would.

  The front door swings open, and in that few seconds I know it’s time to pull on my big girl pants again. Flynn’s home, he’s less than five feet away from me; only the door to the room separates us. I can hear him removing his coat and dropping his keys in a dish. I hold my breath, stupidly thinking he can hear me breathing. I don’t want him to know I’m here, not yet. I hear Rose come out of the kitchen to greet him in the hallway. Her voice gives away the fact that she’s hiding something. Hiding me, in their front room.

  “You have a visitor.” The door pushes open and there stands Flynn. His expression matches my own. Confused and frightened, although I don’t really know why he’s scared, we are on his territory. If anyone should be scared, it’s me. He can and probably will throw me straight out. Why on earth would he want me here, the girl who just cannot say no to the man who’s been abusing me for years? The girl who refused to open her mouth and destroy her parents’ marriage, her father’s business, everything. I’ve let this carry on for years, just so that I could race. Just so that I could experience that rush, the high from being behind the wheel charging around a racetrack.

  “Why are you here?” His voice is cold and accusing. Me being here is one epic mistake.

  “I brought her to see you. If the mountain won’t go to Mohammad and all that, well, yes…we’ll leave you two to talk this out. Jacob.” Rose grabs the young boy’s hand and drags him behind her. “I bet you’d like a nice hot chocolate and a cupcake from the deli, wouldn’t you?” They are in the hall and out the door before either of us can protest.

  “Well, that wasn’t awkward,” I mutter.

  “I don’t know why you’re here, Harper.” Flynn fills the doorway now, his arms folded across his chest. His stance reflecting his feelings, he’s protecting himself from further hurt. I can understand that; it’s what I’ve been doing for years.

  “You told my father that you’d visit me, you didn’t, so Rose brought me here. She told me you’re angry with me?” I let the silence stretch out a little, allowing him the time to gather his response. When it doesn’t come, I feel the need to fill the gap. “You have every right to be angry with me. I could have stopped this a long time ago but I didn’t. If you let me, I’ll explain.” Studying his face, the wait for him to speak begins to crush what little life I have left. “Flynn…”

  “You don’t need to explain anything. It’s not important. It’s your life you let him to ruin. I’m sure you have your reasons but you don’t have
to explain them to me.” His tone is even and unwelcoming.

  “I do, I need to tell you everything—”

  “What, so I can forgive you and we can live happily ever after? Are you for real? I’m not that guy, Harper, I’m so not that guy.” His words cut through me, wounding my soul.

  “I don’t need your forgiveness. You don’t even need to understand my reasons, but you do deserve the truth.” My fingers are still rubbing away at the fabric covering on the chair arms, my feet tapping out my nerves as my whole body shivers. Unsure of whether it’s the cold making me shake or the uncertainty of the situation, I pull my jacket tighter around my chest, hugging myself in the process. The small comfort I garner from the action is enough to make me continue as Flynn stands stock-still.

  “He’s one of my Pops’ oldest friends, or at least he was. I think my father’s relinquished those rights now. I’ve known him all my life, so when I started to show an interest in racing, he took me under his wing. I started off small, when I was seven or eight, karting and entering the occasional competition, until one day he said he could help me take my career further. He’s been involved in the racing scene since he was a kid.” My eyes are darting around the room as the words spill from my mouth. I don’t dare look at Flynn for fear that he’ll stop me and send me away. The need for him to know everything from the very beginning is overwhelming. Flynn shuffles, adjusting his position in the doorway, prompting me to continue.

  “Once I progressed from karting to racing competitively, competing in the Pro series, Phil was my trainer, my mentor, my instructor. He was the one who secured sponsorship deals for me. Those allowed me to build my career and be taken seriously on the circuit. I won my first Pro series at fifteen, one of the youngest ever competitors. I’m good at it—very good, apparently.” I don’t recognise the laugh that escapes me as my own. “That was down to his determination. He pushed and pushed me to be the best that I could be. It was after the win that it started, the over-familiar hugs, the suggestive comments. I think I’ve blocked out exactly when it progressed from being more than a quick grope to…well, you know what it progressed to. That day at the unit, that was the first time it had been so…so—”

  “Stop. Don’t. You don’t need to say anything,” Flynn crouches before me now, his hands on my knees, the concern etched across his face.

  “If you’d asked me a year ago if I was being abused, I would have said no, absolutely not, because it’s taken me so long to admit to myself that it was real and happening to me. Why did it take me so long? He made me afraid of my own capacity to experience memories, made me afraid of what the inside of my own mind looked like. I built—like, really, purposefully built—elaborate stories, each of which navigated away from and around one thing: the abuse. I did it consciously at first, and then as I became older and it continued, my brain seemed to do it for me, automatically. Whenever anything would trigger a memory, I would start down a pathway to wherever: a song, a poem, a saying, a dance routine, lines from a play. Anything that was not the memory. Eventually those pathways filled up and stacked these little piles of things between my present and that thing I never wanted to think about.” I’m snapped out of my diatribe by the surprise drop of water splashing onto the back of my hand. Flynn’s thumb swipes across my cheek. It was a tear that I didn’t know was falling.

  “Maybe I could have lived my whole life like that, punishing myself for allowing it to happen. Maybe I would have, if you hadn’t walked into my room that day. My mother’s known about it for a long time. She walked into the garage one day when it was happening, but she has a…strange relationship with him, shall we say. What did she say? Nothing. She turned right around and walked out. I think the awards, all the trophies I won, were a way of saying, ‘Shut up and get on with it, it’s a small price to pay.’ It’s not like I was a young child. I was old enough, I suppose.” It’s only now I dare to look up at Flynn. His eyes are wet with unshed tears. He’s no longer crouching down but kneeling at my feet. Staring at me with something I can only describe as sorrow.

  “She knew and did nothing to stop it? What kind of a mother does nothing?” He’s furious, the anger seeping from his every pore. It’s coming off him in waves.

  “My career’s over now. I put an end to that when I decided to slam my car into the barrier. It doesn’t matter that it’s out in the open now. I can’t go back to racing anyway. I’m sorry, Flynn. I’m so sorry you had to get mixed up in all this. I’ll make sure that you’re never involved in it. I just needed to explain and apologise.” Wiping my face with the backs of my hands, I take a deep, cleansing breath. It’s time for me to leave. He doesn’t need any more of my drama. God knows he has enough of his own going on. “If you call me a taxi, I’ll wait outside.”

  “You drove into the barrier on purpose? You could’ve died! I’ve seen the speeds at which they drive around those circuits. You should’ve have died that day.” There’s a flicker of anger in his voice again, but I don’t think it’s directed at me this time.

  “That was kind of the point. I didn’t want to be a victim anymore. I didn’t want to walk away from it. The need to escape the whole damned nightmare became too much. There weren’t any other options for me that day. He’d taken all those away from me. The moment his voice came through my earpiece as I neared that corner, I knew, I just knew I had to do it. I couldn’t stand another moment with his voice or his hands or his, his touching.” Sobs halt my speech, snot running from my nose as I cry, hard. Flynn leans over, wrapping me in his arms, pulling me from the chair to cradle me against him on the floor of his front room.

  “Harper, you’re not the one to blame for any of this. He was the adult, he chose to make those decisions, he made you crash your car that day. This is all his fault, and he will pay for what he’s done to you.” Flynn’s hand rubs rhythmic circles along my back, soothing the sobbing mess I have become.

  “There’s one thing I do know for sure, Harper. You’re not a victim, you’re a survivor.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Flynn

  Listening to Harper tell me everything was hard. I’d somehow gone from being furious at her to wanting to protect her all over again. I guess Rose was right when she said it was the situation causing the extremes in my emotions. My vision was so clouded that it refused to let me see clearly. Realising that Harper didn’t need me to fix anything had been the hardest part. It’s what I was supposed to do, fix it. Seeing her in my house, scared and unsure of herself all over again, struggling to speak through the wracking sobs, almost destroyed me. All the anger I’d felt had just melted away as I listened to her explain why she’d not stopped him. Finding out that her mother knew? Well, that had broken me for sure. If I’m ever lucky enough to become a parent one day, I can guarantee that nobody will ever hurt my child.

  Harper had been alone in all this from the very beginning, without anyone to fight in her corner. She was an innocent child when he began grooming her, because let’s face it, that’s exactly what he’d done. She’d been frightened and unable to tell anyone for fear of ruining her parents’ marriage. How the scumbag could sleep at night was beyond me, but knowing he would be locked away behind bars erased some of the pain I still felt whenever I let my mind wander to what she’d suffered all these years.

  Everyone was right; the last thing she needs is fixing, because she isn’t broken, not by a long way. My girl is strong, stronger than anyone I’ve ever known, and she certainly knocks me out of the water in that department. No way would she ever let a man like him break her. She’s proving that every day now, fighting to return to full strength. One day she’ll walk out of that hospital unit, and she’ll be a better person for it.

  Harper has been resilient throughout the last few weeks. There have been statements and video-recorded evidence that she’s had to get through. I offered to be with her during the whole thing but was relieved when she insisted it was something she had to do alone. We’ve been spending more time together
again, not that we’re back to how we were before that day, but it’s good. We’re friends, at the very least. She’s pushing herself in the therapy sessions too. Those I am a part of. Frank’s managed to swing it so I take my break at the same time as the sessions. I’ve gone from being a compassionate onlooker to yesterday standing at the end of the support beams, encouraging her to walk those few steps on her own, right into my arms. Her therapist is using me like some proverbial carrot that she’s dangling in front of Harper as a reward for good work. I kind of like being her reward, though, makes me feel needed. It’s my way of compensating for the asshole in me that reared its ugly head not that long ago.

  Harper’s never mentioned my going off the rails or anger issues surrounding her abuse. I’ve tried several times to talk it over with her but never get anywhere. She always moves the conversation in a different direction. We will have to address the elephant in the room at some point, but for now, I’m concentrating on giving her whatever it is she needs.

  Right now though, I need to concentrate on what Jay needs. We have a meeting with Pete, my brother’s social worker. He’s asked that Rose be there too. She’s been busy baking and cleaning all fucking morning. “We need to give him the right impression. It’s all about creating a good impression with these people, Flynn.” So I’ve left her alone.

  When Pete knocks at the door, I worry that her heart condition may be playing up a little. She’s pale and sweating slightly, but she quietens me when I question her, bustling past me to let the social worker in.

  We’re all seated around the kitchen table, as Rose insisted, drinking tea as Jacob devours the cake in front of him. We’ve gone over my brother’s improvements at school, the improvements to the house and now we’re about to address me, his failure of a brother.

  “Are you finding it easier to cope now that Rose is living here?” Pete’s not looking at me as he speaks, he’s continuing to scribble notes on his pad.