Devil's Due [h.s.]

Chapter 50

Chapter 50

I was convinced I'd never truly been warm in my life until I woke up in Harry's arms. Until my eyes fluttered open, breath catching briefly in my throat, and realized I was pressed up against his chest with my head nuzzled right below his chin. Like always, my arms were tightly restrained against my own chest, but unlike how it had been the other times, I was actually facing him this morning. In fact, I had reason to believe neither of us had even turned away from one another in the middle of the night.

He was hugging me; it took a moment to realize. Hugging me against himself, our legs intertwined, with an arm looped just below my ribcage, his other lazily slung over my waist. One of his hands was flat against the small of my back and I could feel the calloused fingers of his other hand tucked right below the blade of my shoulder.

And in that moment, I wasn't sure whether to feel content or terrified.

Harry had been so different yesterday, so unlike himself. I knew the majority of it was to do with the alcohol but a lot of what he'd said had seemed genuine. Like they were things he'd wanted to admit for a while but hadn't been able to find the right way to do so. I was terrified because I wasn't sure how he was going to feel this morning knowing how he'd reacted yesterday. If he'd even remember at all.

Part of me wished to dislodge my hands from where they were wedged between us, eager to take this opportunity to carefully inspect the areas in which he'd been hurt yesterday. The areas that he'd been so apprehensive to let me take a look at, something that worried me to no end given I had a feeling he was probably less than willing to get them looked after himself whenever he was alone. I was grateful he'd come here yesterday.

Grateful for a multitude of reasons, actually. Grateful because I knew I'd wanted to see him. I'd tried to convince myself over and over that the reason I'd been so adamant on wanting him to call me back those few days where we hadn't spoken was simply because I wanted to thank him for the birthday gift and apologize for my outburst at the studio, but after seeing him for the first time in the doorway yesterday, I knew I'd been lying to myself. I'd wanted to see him simply because. I'd wanted to know he was okay.

To say I'd gotten that closure would have been a lie. He hadn't been okay when he'd shown up yesterday. Even if he himself believed otherwise. I was sure this was probably normal for him, to come back from these events – any meetings with Damien, really – bloodied and bruised but I hated it. I hated that, to him, this was barely anything to bat an eye over.

I was lost in my thoughts, eyes downcast toward Harry's chest – the only thing visible to me given that if I tried to lift my head, it would be met with his chin – when he began to stir. His arms closed tighter around me, his hand smoothing up my back until it was rested just below my neck, his fingers brushing my hair. Just like last time, I went rigid. Not wanting to wake him, not wanting to do something that would make him regret every last moment he'd spent with me.

With a deep, tired sigh, Harry lifted his head from its resting place on the top of my head toward the crook of my neck instead, where he buried his face. I wasn't sure I was moving, hadn't even dared to breathe, when he suddenly murmured against my skin, "I know you're awake." His voice was low, raspy. It took me by surprise. I hadn't realized he'd been awake. I swallowed hard, willing my heart rate to settle, as he continued, "Tell me why we just woke up and I already get the feeling that you're fuckin' overthinking something."

It was brief, but I allowed myself a single moment to just exist. To let him hold me, to feel the warmth of his body pressed against mine, to revel in the way the skin of my shoulder felt under the heat of his words. His hair was pressed against my cheek and it took everything in me not to lean forward, to drag my hand out from between our chests to knit my fingers through it.