Bad Blood (h.s.)

Part Sixty-Four

Part Sixty-Four

"Careful," Harry whispers, holding my hand and waist. He helps me walk into the apartment building and leads me down the hall, his body protectively wrapping over mine. My fingers wrap around his cast and his left hand lies on my waist, helping me maneuver through the hall. He opens the apartment door and kisses my temple, leading me in and shutting the door behind us.

"How do you feel?" he asks, helping me take off my jacket.

"I've been better. I need to get some ice," I tell him, walking towards the kitchen.

"No, no. You go to bed. I'm taking care of you," he purrs, kissing my forehead and moving into the kitchen. My feet walk into the bedroom and I lay down on the bed. Java comes up and lies on my lap, her soft fur hitting my arms.

Harry walks in shortly after I situate myself, a bag of ice in his hand. He helps me place the ice onto my left rib and then sits next to me, grabbing his laptop. I rest my head on his shoulder and I close my eyes.

"I can't tell you how sorry I am Harry," I coo, his left hand grabbing my right one.

"I didn't think you'd want me if I looked like this," I tell him, my chapped lips frowning as I remember Greg's words. There was enough fear in my body and he made it worse.

"Beth, don't you see how much I care about you?" he says, kissing the top of my head.

"I was in my car, driving around everywhere, searching for you. The cat was even lost. Don't you see that I will always try to find you, no matter what?"

I close my eyes and nod. "I do now. You should've been the first person I called, but I let his words get to me."

Harry frowns and stops his e-mail, shutting his computer. "What did he say to you?"

My hands nervously wrap around his massive one, finding strength in my weakness. A silence breaks over when I part my lips, but I fail to speak. The feeling of over-heating consumes my body, Harry noticing almost immediately.

"Shh, calm down baby," he breathes, helping me lie on my back. Java moves off my lap and onto the floor, curling into a ball on her bed. Harry runs his hand over my forehead, resting my head on the pillows.

"He told me no one would want me," I quickly say, "Not anymore."

His green eyes soften, his thumb running softly against my bruised cheek. He gently kisses my forehead and lays next to me. I grip his hand and attempt to hold him. He wraps his left arm under my shoulders, my head now using his left bicep as a pillow.

"His loss," he says, my eyes diverting my gaze to look up at him. "You are all mine. If he so much as comes close to even touching you again," he pauses, bringing his head closer to mine, "he'll die before he even touches you."

A smile of satisfaction appears on both our faces, his dimples prominent. "You have nothing to be afraid of," he whispers, leaning down. His lips meet mine and I let go of his hand, cupping his warm cheeks. His casted hand moves to my rib, gently applying pressure to the ice. My fingers caress his cheeks, pulling his lips to mine fully.

Minutes pass and Harry continues to hold me, our kiss ending shortly before and now he's kissing my purple cheek. He keeps whispering how much it pains him to see me like this. It was hard on both of us, me not wanting him to see me so broken and his flashbacks coming back to him.

"I like your hair when it's curly like this," he whispers, taking notice of my natural curls. I hate my curls so I've always blow-dried and curled my hair.