And she stared back, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths as she looked over him.
Eventually, their eyes met and held, everything else blurring at the edges.
“Hi,” she said at last, a tear slipping down her cheek. “Can I come in?”
Dan nodded, not trusting his voice. He stepped aside, letting her in and shutting the door behind her.
“I like your place,” she said, another tear trailing down her cheek. She tilted her head back and laughed. “Your ceiling is so low even I could touch it. Almost.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Dan’s mouth, but he didn’t let it grow.
There was a heavy, awkward silence, and Harper patted her hands against her thighs. “I got into residency,” she said at last.
Dan nodded. “I saw Lizzie’s post. Which program?”
“Dwyer’s Hospital,” she said, her teeth sawing into her bottom lip. “Here,” she added.
The statement pressed like a heavy weight against his lungs. He wasn’t sure what to do with that, what to make of it. And he was terrified of the flicker of happiness it ignited in his heart.
“What are you doing here?” he finally managed to ask, his voice hoarse.
Harper stared at him before taking a deep breath, one that seemed to suck all the air from his own lungs.
“I got your voice mail,” she said.
Dan nodded. The voice mail. He wanted to regret it. He wished he could be mad at himself for putting it out there. But he couldn’t. Harper was loved. He wanted her to know that.
“And there are a few things you need to know,” she said, stepping forward. Her hands reached for him, but she hesitated, her fingers hovering an inch away from his. Dan closed the distance, engulfing her hands in his palms. Harper let out a sigh, and Dan couldn’t ignore the soothing feel of her skin against his. He was hungry for it.
Harper closed her eyes for a minute, chewing on her bottom lip, before her eyes flashed open, connecting with his, more present than he’d ever seen them.
“I’m sorry,” she said, licking her lips. “There aren’t enough words in the world for me to explain how sorry I am. I need you to know that, first and foremost.”
“I’m sorry too, Harper,” Dan said, needing to get the words out. “I’m sorry for everything I said. For telling your secrets. I didn’t mean—”
She pressed a finger to his lips, silencing him. “I know,” she said. “I know.”
She took another deep breath before starting again. “I’ve spent my entire life afraid of pain,” she said, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. “Losing my mom … It felt like something broke in me after that. My body felt in constant danger. I cling to routine and order and perfection because I think I can control those things. If I can control my life, things can’t hurt me.”
She blinked, tilting her head back as tears traced down her cheeks. “I’m terrified of letting people in and losing them. So scared of experiencing that pain again,” she continued, looking at him. “And losing someone I loved so much has made me unsure how to love without losing.”
She closed her eyes for a moment, and Dan reached out, cupping her cheek in his hand. She nuzzled into the touch.
“I’ve always believed if I could avoid pain,” she continued, “I would be okay. And I was good at it. I built walls around me and walked through life like any misstep would detonate a land mine. And then you came along.” She was laughing and smiling through her tears as she reached up and placed both her palms on his cheeks. “And my feelings for you … they crumbled every careful wall I’ve ever built. You seeped into every crack, every fragment. My best friend. My lover. And I was so scared to feel everything I felt for you. It was easier to be angry. It was easier to throw blame around than admit the truth.”
“What’s the truth?” he asked through a hoarse throat.
Harper smiled. A big, luminous smile that shattered his heart in his chest. “The truth is, falling in love with you was the most inevitable, uncontrollable thing to ever hit me. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. And it scared the shit out of me. I thought it would hurt me. But now I realize that being apart from you hurts so much more. I miss you so much, my bones ache with it.”
“I miss you too,” Dan said. It was simple and honest and the sum of his feelings.
“I’m sorry,” Harper whispered, the words passing lightly over his skin. “I’m so damn sorry. You shouldn’t forgive me for what I said. How I acted. But if you can forgive me, I promise I will spend every day making it up to you.”