Haven • H.S.

22. Speechless

Haven- 22

"...take my past and take my sense, like an empty sail takes the wind..."

Ella.

The party was still on my mind a week later. And maybe it wasn't the declaration that Harry hadn't been a perfect human in his past (because whose past is perfect?) but rather the reaction he had coaxed out of himself at the reminder. The minute his old friends were mentioned, he went blank. Defensive.

And I hated it.

It wasn't a discussion we continued to have within that next week. He didn't bring it up-- I didn't bring it up. That was that. But the small glimpse I did acquire into his curtained former life gave me a hunger to know more. Not just more about the hard stuff to pull out of him, but the more easier details too.

So, on a quiet, party-less Saturday that was spent under the covers of his bed touching, exploring and murmuring tiny admonishments, I asked him.

"What's your family like?"

He wasn't immediately on the fence-- a good sign. His posture stayed the same; one arm was below his head, propping it like a pillow, and the other around my middle.

"Mmm, my family." He smiled, scooting himself further under the comforter. Further toward me. "They live on North Street actually, up a few miles. It's just my little brother and mom, though. Sister went off to college at Stanford a couple years ago, but she comes up during the holidays to visit." He watched my features closely. "You should come with me when I visit them next, baby."

"You want me to?"

"Hell, yeah. Would make the holidays a lot more bearable."

"You don't like the holidays?" It was difficult to keep the shock from my tone.

"It's not that I don't like them, angel. I've just never had someone to bring home to my family to enjoy things like Thanksgiving dinner or Christmas morning with me; to open presents with. To buy presents for."

This confused me. If he had always wanted a partner for life, someone to take home, someone to stand by his side then why did he chose the lifestyle he had chosen? I wasn't going to lie and say it didn't baffle me, but I wasn't going to touch that subject again right now either. It brought too much pain within the normally breathtaking green in his eyes.

"I see."

He leaned up closer this time, bringing a hand to cup my cheek. "But I want you to be that someone," he said firmly. "Don't you see it, El? You're fucking it for me. I want to do things like take you to meet my mom and siblings and I want to buy shit for you like jewelry because you deserve it."

"Harry," I whispered, covering his hand with mine. "I... never really know how to respond to the things you say." It was the truth, but a washed down version. You're fucking it for me too, I didn't say. I think I'm falling in love with you, I could've said.

"Do I make you speechless, baby?" He laughed, purposefully coming closer.

"Yeah," I replied, breathless.

"I'm doing my job then," he said, winking. His eyes were light. Alive. Like nothing I've ever seen before. He was a sculpture, the most expensive kind, and I didn't think I'd ever get sick of appraising him.

"Tell me more about your family."

"Like what?"

"How old are your brother and sister?"