Page 85 of Bearly Hanging On

All interest in her phone evaporated as she frowned before following me, coffee mug in hand. Not many Australian houses had a basement, but mine did. One that was purpose built for exactly this moment.

“Through here,” I said as the solid steel door swung open.

“Um… no.” She peered over my shoulder warily. “I do not want to go into the strange underground room with you.”

“It’s a safe room,” I explained. “We should’ve come in here last night, but I needed to do an inspection, make sure everything was OK. The two of us will hole up here, watch some reruns, and…”

Relax, that’s what I wanted to say, but I couldn’t. Not until the situation with Dax was resolved. He’d sent his message to the others, so it was only a matter of time before he did the same to me. I swallowed. Every time I tried to close my eyes last night, I saw my mother. The look on her face, shock and then nothing. Her sliding down my father’s body, as limp and broken as an old doll. But now it was Harper’s face I saw on that body. I couldn’t let the life in those fiery brown eyes fade. My fingers flexed, claws forming and receding before I took a step closer.

“Please, Harper.” I was never one to wear my heart on my sleeve, and Harper’s look of shock confirmed it. She heard thepain, the need there. “Look, I know I said if you run, I’d chase and I will. Wherever the hell you go today, I’ll be on you like white on rice. Hanging over your shoulder as you serve those dickheads at the cafe.” Her lips twitched. “Fuck it, they can try to put the hard word on me over their morning coffee and bacon and egg sandwich if they like.”

“You know, I’m trying to see you in the uniform.” She wagged a finger in my direction. “I’m not seeing it, though you could be cute in a skirt.” Her eyes ran down my body. “You do have killer legs.”

“I will wear the women’s clothing of your choice if you get in here, Harper,” I said. “Please. I’m not above begging.”

“OK, now that has me thinking about a very different scenario.” I barely registered what she was saying because she walked past me and into the safe room. The door was shut and the security sequence punched in the moment she reached the stairs. “One where you play the naughty school girl and I’m like your teacher, maybe?”

“Yes, Miss…” I sighed, running down the stairs.

The fridge had been turned on, cleaned, and smelled of vanilla now. With a click of the remote, I had the TV on. Placed in her hands, Harper flopped down on the couch and started scrolling. I looked at the food we’d collected and realised it wasn’t the greatest combination, so instead I made up a snack charcuterie board and put it before her. She snagged a pretzel and crunched on it, then looked over at me.

“Wanna talk about it?” The idea was laughable. Trauma dumping was rarely sexy, but what was going on with me was next level. Instead, I just shook my head. “Yeah, me neither.” I watched her take a sip of her coffee. “So, should we watchFriends?”

I couldn’t think of anything worse than watching some shitty old sitcom, complete with canned laughter, but if it kept Harper safe, I would.

“Sure,” I said, settling against the couch. “Sounds great.”

Chapter 36

Harper

Mack was completely full of shit.

I mean he was normally, but when he was sleep deprived, it was particularly egregious. No doubt he thought he was passing off introducing me to the secret bunker under his house as all very normal, but his nonchalance was ruined by the fact the door seemed to have this vacuum-sealed security mechanism. That and he still had a damn rifle strapped to his chest. Mack was very quietly, very carefully, falling to pieces, and that left me thinking about last night.

Apparently, I’d signed up to become their emotionally available, well-adjusted girlfriend. Trouble is, I had no freaking idea how to achieve that. Daria and I might bitch…

Fuck, Daria!

This was the third damn time I’d thought about calling her to warn her about what was going on, and now I needed to actually follow through.

“Phone,” I said, holding out my hand. Mack stared at it with a frown. “May I please have my phone back, Mr. Wolf?”

“I thought we were watching TV,” he grumbled, right before yawning so loudly his jaw cracked.

“Um… who sits and just watches the TV without doom scrolling? Serial killers, that’s who.” I clicked my fingers impatiently. “You’ve got me locked up in your dungeon, so hand it over.”

“Fine.” It was placed in my hand. “You need to call your work and let them know you’ll be out for at least a few days.” Another perilously long yawn. He blinked furiously, looking like a little boy that was trying to fight his bed time. “Maybe a week.”

“Sure, I will totally not do that,” I said, smiling at his hissed reply as I unlocked my phone. Some texts from Mum, some emails that needed to be dealt with, a bunch of social media notifications and…

A voicemail.

I frowned, wondering who the hell would leave a message rather than texting like a civilised person. A quick scroll through my missed calls and my blood went cold. The TV audience’s laughter felt like it was mocking me personally as I saw I had several missed calls from my so-called best friend.

The one I’d blown off the moment I was getting multiple dicks. The one who I’d thought to warn about the situation more than once, but never followed through on. Maybe she was having issues with her car, I thought. Or just wanted to vent about the idiots at her bar. Or…?

“Hey.” My voice sounded creaky and weird. “Is there a toilet in this oubliette or…?”

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