Cover Your Tracks [HS][2014 VERSION]

62. Tear in My Heart

"My heart is my armor . . ."

—Harry's POV—

I never meant to upset her, or push her away. There were conflicting feelings going on in my head that I had never had to deal with, feelings that I didn't know how to deal with. My past relationships—if you could even call them that—were strictly made up of one-night stands, and like waking up the next morning alone to face the consequences, I've realized that there are more mistakes to be made.

When it came to her, I'd planned to cut my mistakes short. She deserved better—she always had. But now we were making them together and I had nothing to say for myself. I'd let my wants come before her needs, taking her away from her home and into my world of drifting aimlessly about, moving from place to place in a game of cat and mouse.

She's chosen to doom herself to the life of hiding out with me until the police would come and flush us out of our hole like rats. That's what they were doing now. I had not told her so, but that night I went out, someone had recognized me. I'd been drunk out of my mind and didn't think to cover my head as I walked down the street. They had shouted and pointed from the other side, gaining the attention of everyone around us.

I ran not in fear of what might happen to me, but what might happen to her. Word would get out and they would trace back to the motel room; I was sure of it. And so I ran blindly through the streets and pictured her in front of me, hair blowing wildly behind her as if beckoning me to follow. The alcohol was there, buzzing in my mind, whispering.

Catch me.

I shadowed her all the way back to the motel until she disappeared through the door that would lead me to her true form. That was where I was meant to be, and that was where the alcohol had led me. And she was right where I knew she'd be: waiting for my return, fast asleep on the side of the bed furthest from the door.

And after everything, I couldn't bring myself to hold her.

My eyes find hers in the rear view mirror. The sun, nearly blinding in the morning light, hits her face perfectly. Her hazel eyes are a light gold in color as they lock onto the buildings we pass. Her skin, pale and smooth, appears silky compared to my calloused, tan flesh. The comparison describes our relationship well. I'm harsh to the touch whereas she's the complete opposite, smoothing out my rough edges.

Every aspect of this has been unfair to her, especially the past few days. For the first time in my life I've put someone else before myself, and as a result, I've begun to push her away without the intent to do so. I feel guilty for allowing things to get this far—for things to get past the point of no return. Because the truth is that her old home was better than any one she could ever have with me.

My hand finds hers in the space between us. The gesture is one of reassurance, made to show her that regardless of everything that has happened, I'm not mad at her. And I never have been, I've only been angry with myself. She has to know that.

She looks to me with soft, kind eyes. They fall down to where we connect and then back up to my face, a dazzling smile making its way onto her own. I offer a small one in return and refocus my attention back to the road whilst rubbing circles into her skin with my thumb. She squeezes my hand once and then her limbs fall limp, content with the motion of my rough callouses against her smooth skin.

Guilt continues to pool in my stomach as I drive. Swallowing it down, I put on a brave face for her. She hums along to each and every song on the radio, her voice cracking at parts. She holds a particularly high-note for a few seconds before her voice falters with laughter and she looks to me with a massive grin. I can't help but crack a smile as well, shaking my head whilst she continues on.