A Compelling Motive (h.s.)

nineteen

I walk down the street on my way to work but I freeze when I see the bookshop. Holden Shepherd released a new book. My breathing hitches in my throat and I graze the cover, noticing that it's a second book in his series. A Compelling Motive: A Need.

My mind takes a mental note to buy it and I walk to the coffee shop, opening the doors. All of my coworkers have helped me deal with my injuries, but they have allowed me to work. The amount of coffee I brew and drinks I make throughout the day is enough to feel like coffee could come out of my ears at this point. When it's time to leave, I text Harry that I'm going home.

Since the accident, he's made sure I message him when I leave my apartment and reach my destinations. It's to make sure he knows that I'll be okay in route. I did it without question, knowing the reason why. He wants me safe. He cares for me.

As I walk, my boots hit the ground and I walk the few blocks down to my apartment. I hear a slam and then what seems to be grunts as I approach an alley, my heart dropping to my stomach. I hate the thought that I may be near danger, but I keep walking. The noises sound of a fight, punching and groans from the victim.

But I freeze at the voice.

"If I see you following her again, it'll be worse."

My lips part, my breathing growing erratic. I turn and face the entrance to the alley, and my worst fears come true. The light curls on top of his head, the black jeans fitted on his long legs, and the boots strapped to his feet.

"Harry," I gasp out, feeling nerves pool into my body. As I observe the scene, I notice who the victim is. The ebony skin and bright blue eyes are visible through the faint streetlight; it's Jackson, the man from the café and the bar.

"Leave," Jackson nearly pants as if Harry will attack me next. My eyes move to Harry; his eyes focused on me. He's a deer in headlights; caught by his actions. Harry then moves his hands against his jeans, whipping what surely is blood off his tattooed skin. I'm so distraught as I attempt to wrap my mind around the scene that I feel Harry grab my arm, my eyes clouded.

"Rhiannon," he pleads, my lips parting but no words escape. I don't know how to react, tears brimming my eyes just because I'm scared. Scared to find out what happened and the reason behind it.

"Rhiannon, no. Don't cry, please," he begs. His voice is soft, almost scared himself. I'm sure it's because he's afraid I'll run.

Taking a moment, I notice Jackson has manage to escape. He probably wanted nothing more than to leave this situation. Harry inflicted pain upon him.

I take a step back, finally having the courage to look into his eyes. His eyes fill with pain; pain of knowing I'm scared of him right now. There has never been an opportunity for me to observe violence like this. He inflicts pain on others; a fact I found out in my search of him. I had let those facts go to try to develop a relationship with him without bias, but those parts of his past just resurfaced in front of me.

"No, no, please," Harry rushes. I watch as he moves down, my eyes watching as his knees hit the pavement. His strong arms sling around my legs, preventing me from walking away.

"What happened?" I whisper, trying to gauge the situation. I look down at him, his eyes gleaming in the light. He exudes darkness, but his eyes are nothing but soft when they look at me. His head rests at my middle, his hands gripping my thighs tightly.

"He has been following you since that night," he tells me. "I know him Rhiannon. He's not a good guy. I-I know I'm always trying to ensure that you are safe and mine, but trust me when I say, he's not someone I want following you. I don't want anyone to follow you."

When I don't answer, he lifts a knee but stays on the ground. His hands trail to my waist and I look down at him, a tear unwillingly falling down my cheek.

"His name is Jackson. I went to high school with him. We...We didn't do good things Rhiannon. He never changed. I did. When he saw that I found a girl, he took that as an opportunity to get back at me for things in the past."

I take it upon myself to cut him off. "What did you do in the past?"

It's a loaded question despite how simple it is. My hands move to his cheeks, looking down at him. His nerves are expressed as he looks away from me. For a man who is completely hard to figure out, I've learned his tick for when he's nervous. He can't look me in the eyes.

"Harry," I whisper, needing to know. I need to know if what I read is real.

"It was a long time ago," he rushes, his hands covered in dried blood moving to rest over mine. I can tell he's only doing it to make sure I don't remove them. I can't even register the fact they are covered with the result of the fight.

"Tell me," I say quietly, but firmly. He's mustering the courage to open up to me and I know it's not an easy accomplishment, but I need to know him. All of him.

"When I was younger, I didn't have my family to keep me in line. I did what I wanted, and I started doing things I shouldn't have," he starts and I look at him. He knows I want more information.

"I started to do drugs. I did cocaine and I smoked weed," he continues, making my stomach twist. I constantly keep reminding myself this is the past. "It was dealing it that Jackson and I started getting into deep shit. We had to beat up those who didn't pay, and there was one time he didn't pay up. I had to tell the boss and Jackson got into serious shit for it. That's why he took the opportunity to follow you, to hit on you at that bar. He knows I'm in a relationship with you and he wants to get back at me for the pain he endured when I turned him in. Darling, it's over. That part of my life is over."

Harry stands up, looking down at me. His green eyes stare into mine and he grabs my hands, unable to read my face. I'm not sure what to think because he said so himself. It's in the past, but that doesn't mean I'm scared. A lot of people smoke weed and do cocaine, but not everyone deals it. Especially at a young age. Plus he used to be the one his boss used to make those who didn't pay suffer the consequences.

"Harry," I sigh, not knowing if I'm torn between upset or relief that he's turned his life around. It's disappointing to know that people rely on things like this to live, but he was young and misguided. He needed someone. Anyone.

"I'm not that kid anymore. Rhiannon, I would never do those things again. Never," he assures me, and I reach up. Once my hands are on his face, he looks down at me as if his life is on the line and I'm the one with the scissors.

"Promise?" I ask, knowing the one-worded question will relieve the extreme tension on his shoulders. And I see it visibly as Harry sighs, nodding his head.

"Darling I promise on my life," he whispers, moving his hands to my hips and lifting me onto him. He hugs me impeccably close, my arms wrapping around his neck. My face nuzzles into his neck, my legs securely wrapped around his waist.

"I changed my life around, darling. I'm not that boy anymore. I grew up into the man I am right now. And I'm a man so incredibly afraid to lose you," he admits, my hand fisting his jacket. I tighten my embrace on him, one of his hands coming up to my neck.

"Please just be honest with me," I explain, needing that much.

"I will be as honest as I can. All to make sure you are safe," he says, my head nodding. I keep Harry close to me, not wanting to leave his grasp. It's not nearly as scary of a past as I was assuming. He was doing his job, but that's a horrible excuse for the violence. It's a horrible thing, what he did, but he's clearly not the same. He's a better man; Harry is my man