Page 157 of Untouchable

* * *

They finish up their breakfast,Parker and Harp chatting idly about when they’ll see each other again and Parker finally admitting that he doesn’t know what his schedule looks like for the week. Harp doesn’t press him to commit to anything, saying simply that Parker knows where to find him and knows that his schedule is wide open for the foreseeable future.

Harp knows he should be panicking to say goodbye, feeling like now is the last time things will ever be good. But as he kisses Parker and squeezes his hips… he doesn’tpanic.

When Harp climbs into his truck and waits a moment for it to heat up, for the windows to defrost, he waits to be hit by waves of emotion.

Everything he knows about himself says that he should be overwhelmed at best and having a heart attack at worst. It should be a tsunami, a tidal and inexorable force and instead Harp feels... balanced. He feels okay. He feels bittersweet about leaving Parker but happy about going home and hopeful about the day ahead of him.

Harp feels normal. Like this is a life he could adjust to—a life he wants.

It's been many years since Harp has driven up Storm Mountain at sunrise. Back in the early days of his dream of the place, he had driven up to the property sometimes to see it at different times of day. He'd wondered during those drives what it would be like to live there, if he would mind the drive separating him from humanity's conveniences, if it would truly be worth trading convenience for privacy. It has been, Harp realizes. He has needed these years of isolation to heal in peace, or at least to line up and smooth the broken, jagged parts of himself well enough so that someone like Parker could step in and do what, apparently, Parker does best.

The clouds are just beginning to be painted crimson as Harp passes the last house he will see on the road to Storm Mountain, and there is something sweet and too big growing exponentially in Harp's chest.

---