Estranged • h.s.

24

I have spent so much time asking myself how I didn't see the man in front of me. How did I not realize who he was? How was I so stupid? Why did I have to fall in love with him?

I still have the same few questions, except now I feel like the asshole.

I did not expect to have to talk myself into going back to the club. I told myself today was the day. Get in there and train, hit the gym, make a plan. But the warmth of Harry right next to me has me wishing I could just stay in bed.

I don't want to move, afraid I'll wake him. So, I stare at him in an odd position, admiring the way his lashes fall against his cheeks. The way his chest moves with each of his breaths. Sound asleep, peaceful.

I haven't slept as good as I did last night in, well, years. He walked me straight to the bathroom to get ready, stripped to his underwear, and crawled into bed with me. Zero hesitation. We fit ourselves together, like two little puzzle pieces, and passed out. There has to be science behind how good you can sleep when you're next to someone you... have really strong feelings for.

I should get up. A strained glance at the clock on my wall tells me it's pushing noon. I'll let the whole day slip away if I don't force myself to move. But I'm somehow terrified that this is all I'll get. That I need to take everything I can.

He inhales a deeper breath, stirring a bit, and I feel my heart rate slightly pick up as I sense him waking up. He adjusts, his head falling to the side briefly before he looks back at me, eyes tired and sweet.

There is not a single word in the dictionary to properly explain the emotion I feel in my chest as he smiles at me.

"Morning," he says, pulling me to him for a moment.

"Morning," I say in return, taking the opportunity to wrap my arm around him. We hug for a while, in silence. And I fight the urge to run far away.

Shame and embarrassment are hiding behind my joy. For believing he could do something so horrible. For treating him like shit. For wasting so much time. For still not telling him how I feel.

I should just say it. He's been shot, I've been attacked. Anything could happen in the fucked up world we live in, and I'm still too much of a coward to say anything.

He smells the same, and I inhale his scent as I take a deep breath.

He rubs the back of my head and every last shred of my willpower breaks. "I'm sorry," I say, head still buried in his chest so I don't have to look at him.

"Stop. You have nothing to apologize for."

I shake my head, and he leans back to hold my face, forcing me to look at him. "I'm serious. I deserved all of it."

"No you didn't," I whisper. This moment has me mourning everything we used to be. We both treated it so carelessly. As if love can't be the most fragile, explosive thing. As if we weren't going through some of the worst shit of our lives.

"I did. I should have been honest with you. But I was so selfish, Cecily. I thought that loving you was enough to excuse the risk I was taking with your life." He thinks hard, his brows pinching together as if he's in pain. "I should have told you."

I swallow, looking at him. "And I should have trusted that you wouldn't do that."

He shrugs just a little, seemingly shaking it off. "You must have had a good reason to leave."

It's then, in that moment, that that entire night comes crashing back. A night that I have blocked out since. The only thing I ever willingly remembered was Zayn showing up to get me out of the mess.