𝐏𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐃 // 𝐇.𝐒.

74.

Chapter 74

It's over.

As I'm laying on the sand with the shallow water curling at the shore, I look over to confirm this wasn't all a hallucination.

Harry is already looking at me. With a soft smile on his lips, he turns his body to face me. He reaches for my hair, tucking it behind my ear and then he asks, "What is it, my love?"

I turn my body as well and I touch his bare skin. He's warm from the sun. "You're really here," I whisper as a little part of me remains in disbelief.

"I never left," he mumbles before using his thumb to tilt my head. He kisses me and I tightly hold his wrists as I close my eyes and feel his mouth on mine.

When he parts, I shakily sigh. "I've gotten enough rest," I tell him. "Can you tell me that long story now?"

He smiles and nods. It's been a full twenty-four hours since Dante had dropped dead at our feet. To get my mother to one of the best hospitals in Italy, we traveled another two hours outside of Florence and I didn't mind being far away from that place.

We're on the beach, just outside of our hotel room and a few minutes from where my mother is receiving intensive care. I lean on my elbow and I watch his lips.

"I just want you to know first that I didn't want to be away from you. I promise you, my angel, I didn't plan it. I missed you every day since then. I even wrote you a letter."

I lift my eyes off his lips. My chest feels heavy as I remember just how bad it hurt to be away from him. "Letter? But I didn't get a letter from you."

He swallows and rolls onto his stomach. "I know. I wrote you a letter so that you'd know I was alright. But I didn't want to put you or the safe house at risk, so I didn't send it. Finn—" he pauses.

I softly frown when I see his distress at the mention of his brother. "Talk to me," I encourage.

"He's not my real brother. He told me that he pretended to be Finn. Turns out he's an agent for the DEA. He lied to me to bust Dante and find the drug lord that started it all."

I touch his shoulders and I lean close to kiss his skin. As he tells me about Finn, or the DEA agent pretending to be Finn, I think back to all the times I felt curious about him. Still, I can't imagine what it must feel like for Harry. "That's—"

"Fucked up," he finishes my sentence. "But at least... now I know that the real Finn is dead. He never came back for me because he was dead, not because he went on with his life and decided not to look for me. Does that make sense?"

I pout, but I kiss his shoulder again. "I'm so sorry," I whisper to him. "It makes sense when you put it like that."

"He assured me you were at the safe house and that you were okay. He said he talked to you—"

"He did talk to me... and I yelled at him because I thought he let you drown. I was mad at him for it. I told him to leave," I say and I frown again. "My God, for a while... I thought you... you drowned. I couldn't find you."

Harry is quick to pull me into his arm. He kisses my cheek, my neck, and my shoulder as a way to prove he hadn't. "The docks... they all look the same. I ended up being surrounded by those agents and from there I was taken to the hospital."