Flawlessly Broken (Harry Styles)

Chapter 4

"Just keep going straight! It'll be on your right!" I yell over the dull roar of the engine.

He nods as his chestnut hair flutters in the wind. There's nothing more that I want to do than run my fingers through his soft brown locks. I'm pressed against him so tightly and I can't fight the temptation to be even closer. Subconsciously, I rest my chin on his shoulder. I inhale his scent. He isn't drenched in cologne like most men I've known. Rather, he smells of fresh linen or a bar of soap. Clean. Manly. Intoxicating and alluring.

Unlike Daniel. He dove in cologne every morning. A smell so nauseating, yet I became immune to it. It repelled me at times. Staying away from each other became a routine, because I repelled him. No physical contact was ever made for days. We became so distant.

Daniel.

Suddenly I feel like I'm cheating on him. I shouldn't be wanting to kiss another man. I shouldn't be nestled in the nape of his neck. Daniel is my husband.

But he's dead.

And he didn't want to be with me.

Why should I want to be with him?

Because I love him, that's why.

But he's dead, I can't be with him. He killed himself 11 months, 2 weeks, and 4 days ago.

He loved someone else, and he will never love me.

Harry's hand skims over mine and jerks me back to reality. He keeps his hand on mine, drawing small circles on the back of my hand. My blood is boiling and there are goosebumps prominent on my skin. Just his touch sends me over the edge. And then his fingers find the fourth finger on my left hand. And fitted right where my finger meets my knuckle, he finds my wedding ring.

He immediately jerks his hand away and the butterflies stop. He stiffens and I pull away from his strong shoulder. His scent still lingers even though my nose is no longer against the white shirt clinging to his upper body. I chew on my cheek.

I'm laced with guilt and he's breathing in pure confusion. I should have just limped home.

"Here," is all I can muster when we arrive at my small tan house.

He goes up the driveway, but instead of parking, he plows straight onto the grass, coming to an abrupt stop directly in front of my door. He kicks the kickstand back with his heel and gets off the bike. He looms over me with his arms folded across his chest. His eyebrows are knitted together in the most attractive way. No, bad.

"Well that was completely unnecessary," I remark in response to his parking on my front lawn. Hoping to steer his mind away from what seems like my current relationship status. I fail.

"You're married. " He is blunt and monotone. A master at disguising his emotions, but his poker face will never be as good as mine.

I glance down at my wedding ring and spin it around my finger. I look up to meet his eyes and my voice cracks, "He's dead."

And a single tear rolls down my cheek because this feels more real than ever. It feels like, yes, he is actually dead. And, no, he isn't here anymore, he doesn't exist any longer. Shay Thomas, Daniel Rivers is dead. And you will never see him again. That's what it's like. It's like a cold, hard punch in the face. He isn't away for a little while, no, he's never coming back.

Realization is a demon, and so is reality.

Harry's face is heartbreaking. And he doesn't say he's sorry that I lost a loved one like most people do. What good is that? Why do they apologize if it wasn't their fault? It's a useless filler for those who are not very good at comforting others. Instead he takes me into his arms with a warm embrace. He squeezes me and I wrap my arms tight around him as he bends down to the motorcycle. It's exactly what I need. A hug. A simple cure that will do much more than any medication ever will. I haven't gotten a hug since Daniel's funeral.