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Chapter 82

I push up on my toes, you call me "sweet thing"
And breathing down your neck
Your body screaming

– Halsey, Heaven in Hiding 

. . . .

The next morning, Harry sleeps in later than I do. For the first time in what feels like ages, he slept soundly without tossing and turning throughout the night. So, instead of waking him up, I let him be. I slip on a shirt and pair of shorts then walk out to the kitchen to make coffee and some cereal.

After eating my breakfast on the couch, someone knocks at the door. I avoid disturbing Gunther sleeping beside me on the couch and open the door.

My father stands on the stoop in his business clothes and an envelope in his hand.

"Hey," I let him in. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to talk to Harry."

"Seriously?" I ask, dismay evident on my face.

"Yes."

"Alright, I'll go wake him up."

Harry's sprawled out on the bed when I get to our room. I pick out a shirt and pair of joggers for him then shake his shoulder to get him up. He stirs around, and instead of waking up, he hugs the duvet closer to his chest.

"Harry, you need to get up."

"Mm," he groans tiredly, his voice raspy and incredibly sexy. "Why?"

"My dad wants to talk to you."

"What the hell does he want?"

"I guess you'll have to get your ass out of bed and go find out."

He throws the blankets away and slides the pants up his naked legs then slips the shirt over his head. I follow him out to where my dad's typing on his phone.

"What are you doing here?" Harry speaks up first. My dad, however, is unaffected by Harry's vexed tone.

"I have something for you."

"Really? I thought the only thing you would give me is a broken nose."

"Well, if you'd shut up I'd be able to tell you what it is," my dad says.

"I see where Violet gets her attitude from."

My dad stares at Harry until he's silent then finally says, "May I speak now?"

Harry waves his hand and says in a snarky tone: "The floor's all yours."

"Here."

Dad hands him the envelope and when Harry pulls out a slip of paper, all that's written on it is an address. He seems just as confused as I am.

"What's this for?"

"It's the address to your new job."

My eyes snap to Harry's face and I can physically see his jaw drop a few centimeters and his fingertips turn pale from his grip on the paper.

"What?"

"It's not a full-time teaching position, but it's tutoring a group of students. The pay is reasonable and it'll help you land on your feet while you're looking for a steady job. Four days a week for four and a half hours."

Harry freezes—obviously in shock. He hasn't spoken once and he stares down at the paper without breaking contact with the numbers and letters printed on the sheet.

The first thing that leaves Harry's mouth is: "What's the catch?"

"No catch."

"Why? You hate me."