Mint [H.S.]

36

And when I touch you I feel happy inside. It's such a feeling that my love, I can't hide.

I Want To Hold Your Hand - The Beatles

HARRY

Waiting outside had been pure torture. There was this little voice inside my head that was telling me, no- shouting at the top of its lungs, that I should have went inside with Izzy. It yelled out that I was a right moron for staying outside, when she went in alone to confront her twisted father.

But I didn't. 

Instead, I stayed outside, sat on an uncomfortable bench in the cool New York air, with a twisted knot in the bottom of my stomach. I was not a patient man by any means, but Isabella was teaching me the art of patience. I wasn't a master of it it yet, but I wasn't doing too bad if me being outside, alone, was any testament of that.

It was no less than twenty minutes when I saw Izzy rush out the doors in a frantic scramble. She almost tripped down the concrete steps; her shoe getting caught on the edge of the middle stair.

I was quick to catch her before she fell face first. Her fingers dug into my arms as she caught her footing. Her eyes were widen in what could be classified as fear, and the way she looked at me was exactly that.

"What happened," I felt quick to be on the defense. The way she trembled in my arms told me that what happened behind that front door was anything but friendly.

"We need to- to go," she stuttered the words off of her tongue. "Now."

She pushed her hands against my chest as she tried to free herself from my grip. I held my ground and tightened my hold on her arms. 

"Not until you tell me what happened in there. Did he do something? I will not hesitate to go in-"

"No! Please. Please, Harry. I want to go. We'll talk about it once we get home, okay? I need to get out of here," she pleaded, her eyes screaming at me to cooperate. "Please," she continued in a hushed whisper.

I weighed my options. As much as I wanted to go against her pleas, march inside this house and punch Franklin Maxwell square in the jaw, the trembling girl in my arms swayed me otherwise.

"Fine."

An Uber came five minutes later to pick us up. I didn't want to struggle to find a taxi and the way that Izzy was in my arms, I knew that she didn't have it in her to stand around and wait. She wanted to go home, that was for sure, and I was going to get her there as quickly as I could.

When we pulled up to her building, I grabbed her hand. "Do you want me to stay with you?"

She looked at me like I was crazy. "I need you to stay with me," she confessed quietly.

It didn't take much than that to have me following her up the steps to her building. The quietness of the elevator matched the quietness of her flat. Natalia was either in school or with her girlfriend, leaving us in the space all alone.

It was probably better that way.

"Do you want some tea?" Izzy asked me the moment we walked inside her flat. She headed straight to the kitchen. Her bag being through absentmindedly on the floor. Her coat and shoes following suit.

"Sure," I answered her carefully. I didn't want anything. I only wanted to sit her down on her couch and ask her all about her short encounter with her father, and why she looked like she saw a ghost when she walked out. But I knew that I couldn't rush her. That was something I learnt early on in our relationship. She needed to be ready to talk, and I was going to be here when she was.