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  “So what’s with the cheesy face, then? Is there a girl in your room! I’ll go see Mrs F if there is. I don’t want to hear any sex noises.” Jacob is now standing with his back to me, his arms wrapped around his own body, doing that pretend smooching thing that all kids do. “Oh, Flynn. Yes, oh yes, Flynn!” He mimics a girl’s voice.

  My laughter rumbles around the kitchen as I go to whip him with the towel. Jacob dodges it expertly and darts out of reach. “You prick! There is no girl in my room.” He’s bent in two now, snorting like a piglet as he chuckles uncontrollably. “Before I forget, we’re going out tomorrow. I’ve volunteered us both at the rehab unit’s fundraiser thing.” My brother’s laughter stops abruptly. He’s scrutinising me, hoping that I’ll tell him it’s a joke. “Don’t look like that, it might be fun. You’re helping with the cake stall.”

  “For real? You’re really going to make me go to this thing?”

  “I really am. I thought you might like to see where I spend my days now. You can ask Mrs F if she wants to come with us.” That thought cheers him up somewhat. I think he sees her as a surrogate grandmother. Pete, the ever-smiling social worker, thinks she’s a good influence in my brother’s life, and who am I to disagree? I have to admit, I find her kind of comforting to have around too. I don’t feel quite so isolated knowing she’s around the corner.

  Before I know it, Jacob is out of the door and on his way to our neighbour’s house. It’s Internet grocery-shopping night. Apparently she still needs supervision for this.

  Sitting on the backdoor step with a beer in my hand, courtesy of Mrs Fisher stocking our supplies, I’m surveying the jungle that is our garden. Our immediate neighbours must really hate living next to us. My time at the rehab unit has taught me so much that I’m contemplating tackling the wilderness surrounding me. I reckon I could make it look half decent. I’m shocked that I can actually recognise some of the plants amongst the weeds. I’ll tackle it tomorrow when we get home from the fundraiser. At least make a start clearing the space.

  My thoughts switch to Bluebell Hill again, more specifically to Harper. Actually, I’m thinking about wanting to kiss her again. The memory plays heavy on my mind, as each moment burns itself into my brain in freeze-frame snapshots. The way her skin flushes when I’m with her, or the way her breathing increased when I kissed her forehead, she has me tangled up inside. My stomach flips whenever I reach the corridor to her room, never mind when I get inside the door.

  Taking another pull on my beer, savouring the taste as the liquid glides down my throat, I think about all things Harper. I try to figure out how much taller than her I am. If she stood before me, would she need to go on tiptoes in order to kiss me? It wouldn’t matter though, the height difference, because I’d just wrap my arm around her waist and pull her upwards into me. Her face would then be within easy reach for my lips to caress hers.

  I need her to get better. I need to see her happy. It feels unhealthy, this obsession I have with her. Whilst she’s in hospital, it wouldn’t be right to build on our friendship, but if she were to get better, then that would be different.

  Harper has given me a purpose in life. Before my hearing, before Bluebell Hill, my to-do list consisted of waking up, surviving and then going back to sleep. Now…now I feel like there’s direction in my life. I feel kind of guilty that, previously, Jacob wasn’t enough to keep me focused, but I want to put that down to the huge, gaping hole our mother’s death left in our lives. I was just a child myself, trying to look after my brother.

  I did what I had to do.

  Sometimes it wasn’t pretty. Our life hasn’t been pretty, but really, Jacob could have turned out much worse. On the whole, he’s a good kid. A great kid. I’m under no illusions that it has anything to do with my input. More like Pete’s and school. I cannot take any credit for his achievements in life; Jacob’s the one who put the effort in.

  The only thing I put effort into was my criminal tendencies. Until now. The difference is evident in me. I feel different. I feel responsible, for my brother, for myself. I even feel slightly responsible for Mrs Fisher, which is bordering on ridiculous.

  The front door slams open and then shuts loudly, and I can feel the vibrations all the way down the hallway, into the kitchen, breaking my internal struggles.

  “Flynn?” Jacob calls out loudly.

  “Kitchen!” I yell back. Anyone would think our house was massive with all the yelling we do. It’s not; it’s a small three-bedroom terraced house. If you stand by the front door, you can see all the way through to the back garden and over into the neighbours’ behind us.

  “So, Mrs F said she wants to come to this gala thing with us. Can we pick her up in the morning? She won’t want to go on her own.”

  Lifting the bottle to my mouth, I finish the amber liquid, finally quenching my thirst. “Sure we can. Do me a favour though, don’t show me up. I have to go back there to work.” Our shoulders bump together in a small show of solidarity.

  “Sure thing, boss.” Jacob lifts his hand to his forehead, offering me a salute to punctuate his words.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Flynn

  Bluebell Hill is buzzing today. There are people everywhere, milling around purposefully, in the corridors and grounds. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many people here at any one time before. It’s usually just full of relatives and friends visiting, but not today.

  Tables are set up in the main lounge, as well as being scattered around the neatly manicured lawns. Bunting hangs loosely from tree to tree, all the way up the driveway, and music filters through the air. Light, airy, floating music offers a peaceful feeling to the sombre backdrop of the main house.

  Jacob is trying to look enthusiastic for my sake, but I’m beginning to regret signing him up for this. I can see the mischief bubbling under the surface. It’s only Mrs Fisher’s presence that’s keeping him grounded.

  I can see my boss, Josh, just inside the reception area as I make my way towards the big house. As I turn to make sure Jacob is aware of the rules today, I catch his surrogate grandmother licking a tissue and wiping his face. She has his cheeks in a vice-like grip. He is not impressed with her right now. I can tell he’s about to lose it when she holds the tissue over his nose and instructs him to “blow.”

  “Mrs Fisher, why don’t you take the cakes you made into the main hall? I think that’s where the stall is.” The old lady stayed up last night baking carrot cakes to donate, and I think Jacob is glad of the reprieve.

  Throwing my arm around his shoulders, pulling him into me, I run my knuckles roughly along the top of his head. “You okay, buddy? I know it’s not exactly how you planned on spending your weekend, but this place is important to me. I’d really like it if you could just make the effort for me today. Can you do that?” Sometimes I forget how young he is and that I haven’t told him about Harper yet, but I plan on introducing him today. That is, if she isn’t tied up with her parents or some other shit. God, I really hope she isn’t busy with anything. I really want to see her. That’s a lie. What I really want is to have her all to myself, to spend time just being with her. She really has my head and my heart in a spin.

  “Yeah, of course I can. I’m not a baby anymore, Flynn.” He’s grunting his response at me as he kicks the toe of his trainer into the dirt underneath his feet. “Just tell me what I need to do.”

  “C’mon, let’s go talk to Josh, see what needs doing, eh?” Wrapping my arm around him again, we head off through the large oak doors, into the reception where my boss is talking with Frank.

  The discussion seems heated, so I’m hanging back a little. No point in getting caught up in their little dispute. It’s Frank who sees me first and breaks away from his rant at our boss. Heading in our direction, he holds out his hand to my brother. “You must be Jacob. Nice to meet you. What you say you come with me and help me out with a few things? Leave your brother to get on with it.” Jacob nods cautiously, seeking my approval with his eyes as he doe
s.

  I watch as Frank steers them both back outside. Jacob must feel comfortable with him if his laughter is anything to go by, and I swear I just saw Frank slip something into his hands. I make a mental note to check what it is later. Not that I don’t trust Frank, I do, but these last few weeks I seem to have developed a sense of parenthood finally. Heaven knows it’s taken me long enough to start to get my shit together. I think I can see a difference in Jacob now that I’m taking charge a little more, too. That thought gives me a sense of pride.

  The first few hours are really busy. I’m stationed on the refreshments stall and I have to say, these people like cake. A lot. There hasn’t been much opportunity for me to slack off so far, but I feel a lull in business coming my way.

  Mrs Fisher has wandered around the stalls all morning and keeps bringing bags full of her finds back to me, to keep safe. She’s just produced a knitted tea cosy and several bottles of wine she managed to win on her latest visit, only this time she’s sat down with a cup of tea, perusing her wares. Hell, she seems to be having fun anyway.

  “Why don’t you go have a look around? Jacob is having a great time on the tombola stall with Frank. I’ll do the drinks here for a bit.” Standing up, she shuffles me out from behind my station in a shooing motion while she serves my next customer. Who am I to argue?

  I have every intention to head outside to check on my brother, but I just want to make a quick trip by Harper’s room, make sure she’s okay. It’ll only take me a few minutes, but I can’t bear to stay away much longer. If she’s awake, I’ll grab my brother and introduce them.

  I’m about ten feet away from Harper’s room when her door swings open and out walks the guy I saw visiting her a while ago. I still have no idea who he actually is or why he’s spending time with her. I know he’s not her brother or her father. He look’s shifty, almost guilty of something, and I’m immediately inquisitive as to who this guy is. He’s heading off in the direction of the back of the hall—nobody uses that exit. It’s really only used for deliveries or staff, and I’m pretty sure he is neither.

  My pace quickens involuntarily; somehow I know I need to get to Harper. I don’t have a great feeling about that guy. Reaching her room, I peer in through the small window in her door, mainly to see if she’s okay, but also I pray that she’s alone. Somehow, I don’t think I’m her parents’ idea of a suitable visitor. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen them visit in a while.

  Harper is lying on the bed. She’s wearing a beautiful summer dress, her long hair is tied loosely to the side of her neck and she looks amazing. She’s staring out the window, watching everyone milling around outside. Pushing the door open, I see her squeeze her eyes tight shut. She doesn’t turn to look at me like she normally does. There is no smile for me today. Her brow is furrowed, forcing her skin to wrinkle. Something’s upset her.

  “Harper?” The concern is evident in my voice, and waiting for her to acknowledge my presence is torture. My feet carry me, voluntarily, across to her bedside. She still hasn’t turned towards me. Her face is screwed tightly, but it’s not until I’m by her side that I realise she’s crying.

  “Harper, it’s me, Flynn. Can you open your eyes for me, beautiful?” Her head is shaking from side to side. “Harper, you’re scaring me. If you don’t open your eyes, I’m ringing the alarm for the nurse.” That gets a reaction. Her eyes fly open, but she refuses to look in my direction. Making my way around her bed, I grab a tissue and start to wipe away her tears. “Did you have a bad dream? Is that it?” Studying her eyes, I’m waiting for the blinks to come, but they don’t. She just shakes her head fractionally. It’s barely enough for anyone to notice, but I see it. I see everything about her. She’s hurting somehow, and I need to find out why.

  “Do you need a nurse?” Her head shakes again.

  “Do you want me to leave you alone?” Her eyes go wide with alarm at that, and she’s shaking her head again.

  I feel damn frustrated right now. Why in Hell’s name will she just not talk to me? I know she could if she wanted to; she indicated as much ages ago. I’m fed up with playing twenty questions with her. “You know, you could make this a whole lot easier for both of us if you really wanted to.”

  I don’t realise I’m holding her hand in mine until I feel the squeeze. It’s vague, and a little weak, but I feel it nonetheless. I look down to see her fingers entwined with mine. They’re curled around, holding on to my hand, as I stare in amazement. “Do that again. Do it now. Squeeze my hand, Harper!”

  She does, tighter too this time, and I let out the loudest laugh. “You did it! You moved your hand, Harper! That’s amazing!” Without thinking, I lean over and kiss her forehead in excitement. She moves her head to the side and tucks herself into my neck, between my shoulder and my head. I can feel her stuttering breath on my skin as I’m frozen in place. Her fingers are squeezing my hand tightly, and I have the feeling she never wants to let go. Which is kind of awesome, because I don’t want her to ever let go either.

  “Did anyone take you out to the gala?” I feel her head shake slightly against me. “They didn’t? Well, hang tight, beautiful. I’ll grab a wheelchair and take you for a spin. I want to introduce you to Jacob.” I don’t give her a chance to protest, because I know she’ll freak out. I’m out the door and down the corridor in search of a wheelchair.

  I find Nurse Smarty Pants in the staff room, playing on her phone. After a little gentle persuasion and my life sworn on the fact that I will tell anyone who asks that this is all my idea, she agrees to help me get Harper into a chair for the first time in a year.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Flynn

  What is he thinking? I haven’t sat upright in a chair for such a long time, and now he’s here, grinning from ear to ear like the proverbial Cheshire cat, pushing the wheelchair around my room. He’s parading around like some catwalk model, twisting and turning to show off the chair as he goes. To top off the insanity of it all, he’s even brought the horrible nurse with him. I really don’t want to do this now, not after his visit, but I want Flynn to stay, spend time with me, and I know he’s trying hard to help my recovery. It’s a good thing that I’ve learned to put each part of my life into separate little compartments: the racing, my family, the accident, the abuse. I separate them all out and pack them away when I need to. What happened to me in this room just before Flynn arrived, I’ve boxed it up, put it away in that little place that’s buried deep within my brain. It no longer exists, that thing that he does to me. At least not until the next time. That’s the only way I’m able to cope—locking it away deep inside, so deep I can pretend it’s not happening to me, but rather I’m just looking in on somebody else’s sad existence.

  “What do you think, beautiful? You ready to face the world?” I think his smile just got bigger, if that’s at all possible. “Now don’t go giving me that frightened rabbit look. We’ve come this far. I know you can do it. For me?” I’m not above begging if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes to get this girl outside.

  I abandon the wheelchair in the middle of the room and ask Smarty Pants to give us a minute, which she gladly does. I’m at Harper’s side in seconds, holding her hand as I stare into those frightened eyes. “What’s it going to take to convince you? Do you like being stuck in here?” Her long eyelashes sweep downwards once. She looks sad now, and I feel like shit for pushing her. “I didn’t think so. How about we just sit you in the chair and see how you feel? If you hate it, I swear, I’ll lift you right back into bed.”

  I’m studying his face intently. Do I trust Flynn enough to try this? I think I do. Okay, well, what’s the worst that can happen? I could fall flat on my face, or faint, or die even. Okay, well, maybe death is a little extreme, but you get my drift.

  Harper blinks twice, slow and steady. The corners of her mouth twitch slightly, and for just a moment I think she may smile for me, but it doesn’t materialise. “That’s my girl. Let me get the nurse back and we’ll do this.”
/>   Smarty Pants pushes her way back through the door, bringing with her a hoist. Without a word to Harper, she positions the contraption next to the bed and begins to adjust the piece of machinery. I can see the fear rising in Harper’s face. The colour has gone from her cheeks, and she looks grey, as though she may pass out at any minute.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, astonished at her audacity and lack of interpersonal skills. I didn’t tell her to bring that thing in. It’s quite evidently scaring the shit out of my girl, and I don’t like it either. It looks like a torture device. “We don’t need that. I can lift her.”

  “Company policy. We can’t manually lift the patients. We have to use the hoist. I am not lifting her.” She hasn’t taken her eyes away from the lifting device for one second while she speaks to me, nor has she looked at Harper. I hate that everyone acts as though she has no say in what happens to her.

  “Get out, and take that thing with you. I’ve got this.” I can’t decipher what it is exactly that she mutters under her breath, but I get that she’s more than happy to leave me to it.

  I love that Flynn doesn’t take any of her crap. I don’t know why she’s in this job. She obviously hates it. That thing didn’t look safe to me, and I have to admit I’m more than a little giddy at the thought of being in Flynn’s arms.

  “Harper, I’m going to lift you now. I need you to let me know if I hurt you. I won’t take my eyes off you for a second, so just shut them if it hurts and I’ll put you right back. Okay?” I get my permission to go ahead.

  Flynn has one arm underneath me and wrapped around my ribcage. The other is beneath my knees. I’m vaguely aware of him talking, but I have no idea what he’s saying. His hard chest is pressed into my side as I’m lifted free from my bed. Fear momentarily strikes through my heart, as I struggle to remind myself that it’s Flynn’s arms around me and not his. My body stiffens voluntarily at that memory of his touch. I hate to be touched. I know I’m about to freak out completely as my pulse begins to race and my vision blurs marginally. Come on, Harper, pull yourself together. It’s Flynn, it’s only Flynn. I breathe deep, calming breaths.