Page 13 of Wicked Devotions
He elbows me in return before getting serious. “Nightmares again?”
I nod and go quiet, looking anywhere but at him. I awoke last night in a cold sweat from dreams of what I had to do earlier this summer back in Greece. I swear I’ll never get the stench of blood and death from the memories that haunt me.
Emerson and Declan both have general ideas of what my family puts me through, especially having seen the new scars I come back home with after every summer. But Emerson has always welcomed me into his space when I need the comfort of another body close by.
“Have you given any more thought to what we talked about back in the spring?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
He suggested I see a therapist. I just don’t seehow they can help me when I’m actively still doing work for my family. I’m at their beck and call until I figure out a way to completely extract myself. How can I start therapy for something that’s still ongoing?
“But you’re not going to look into it?”
“Not yet, but I will eventually.”
He shakes his head, disappointment radiating off of him as he gets out of bed. I stay silent as he grabs his clothes for practice and disappears into the bathroom. As soon as the door closes, I stand up and make the bed. I head upstairs, pausing next to Harper’s room to listen for any noise indicating that she’s awake.
“She’s still sleeping,” Declan says as he walks past me with his soccer duffel bag on his shoulder. “She usually wakes up by eight thirty on her own if you want to make sure you’re around in case she needs anything.”
“I can do that.”
“See if you can get her to relax and feel comfortable with you.”
“Or at least not hide in her room all the time,” Emerson adds as he steps into the hall.
I salute them both with a heavy dose of sarcasmas they descend the stairs. Although, despite my appearance, I am probably the best one to help her come out of her shell. Beneath the tattoos and piercings and trauma, I’m actually the most empathetic and softest of the three of us.
I’ll use the time with her to dig a bit deeper into her relationship with Banks. We went to different high schools, but the community we come from is small enough that we’re all acquainted with each other. She was always out of reach as the goody two-shoes preacher’s daughter, and he is a tough nut to crack. Very friendly and personable but also guarded. The interactions I’ve witnessed between the two of them are odd but familiar.
Honestly, it’s none of my or anyone else’s business, but I know Declan’s been obsessed with her since the first moment they met. Anytime we’d find ourselves in the same place, his eyes would immediately go to her. I can’t say that I blame him. I find her incredibly fascinating, like staring at a work of priceless art.
By the time I get cleaned up and come downstairs for breakfast, Harper is up and filling a stainless steel cup full of ice water. She looks over at me and gives me a hesitant smile.
“Are there any trails around here for a good jog?” She screws the cap on the water and begins putting her hair up.
“Yeah, there’s a good one a couple streets over. Let me put my shoes on, and I’ll join you.”
She’s stretching when I meet her in the foyer. I wait beside her, doing a few calf stretches as she finishes up. She pulls on a ball cap and slides her ponytail through the back.
“I’ll probably be slow because I didn’t run at all the past few weeks at Cillian’s house. Feel free to leave me behind if you want to go faster,” she tells me. From the furtive way she glances at me and then quickly away, I can tell she’s nervous or embarrassed. That won’t do.
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll adjust to your pace.” I sweep my hand toward the door in invitation.
She gives me a lukewarm smile and takes off down the front steps. I fall in beside her and match my stride to hers. The sidewalk is cracked from tree roots pushing the slabs around, so I guide her onto the street.
The August heat and humidity blanket us as we jog under the sun. Luckily the trail I’m guiding her to cuts through a dense wooded section of a local state park, so it’ll give good shade. It also runs alongthe perimeter of our neighborhood to take us back home from the other direction.
She follows my lead as I cut down a dead end and through a narrow trail to come out onto the main path. We pass a few joggers and cyclists, but the trail is fairly empty as it’s midmorning on a weekday. I usually run on my own during soccer season, so it’s nice to have someone with me.
Harper is the perfect jogging buddy. Her dark ponytail swings as she takes the lead, and I fall back as we pass two moms with strollers on the trail. She’s wearing a t-shirt that says something about Jesus and shorts that hit her at mid-thigh. Her outfit has no business being as sexy as it is, and I can’t help sneaking looks every time I drop back behind her.
By the time we get back to the house, we’re both dripping sweat. I pull my shirt over my head and drop it on the back of the couch as I walk into the kitchen for a bottle of water. She follows and refills her cup. Her gaze moves from the shirt I discarded to my chest where she does a double take. I’m not sure if it’s all my tattoos or my nipple piercings that have caught her eye, but I flex my pecks just to fuck with her.
Her cheeks deepen from the pink of exertion to the red of embarrassment. I don’t know what it saysabout me, but I want to make her blush like this every single day.
“Are you just going to leave your shirt there?” she asks when she’s finally recovered. Her haughty tone is a fun new development.
I give her a slow smile. “Maybe.”