Harper’s [POV]
He didn’t hurt Wilson, which is why I got into the truck.
I watch as Aurora fades away.
Michael doesn’t speak, but I can sense his fury, which matches mine.
“You lied,” I say.
“Shut up,” he snaps, and I grit my teeth.
But he’s the one driving, and the last thing I want is to die in a fiery car wreck.
“Was it worth it?” he asks finally as we take a freeway exit I don’t recognize, “to be back with them?”
I stay silent.
Where are we going?
“You smell like them,” he hisses. “It’s disgusting.”
I shake my head and chuckle humorlessly.
I should be afraid of him, but my anger makes me bold.
“You almost ruined it all. You almost ruined.” His voice cracks, and it’s pitiful and ugly.
Almost ruined it?
“You knew I was an Omega, Michael,” I say softly, looking out the window. “You were overdosing me on suppressants. I could have died.”
“I would never let that happen to you. I knew how much I was giving you,” he shoots back.
“Sure,” I scoff.
The car swerves, and I gasp as a horn blares at us. “What are you doing?!” I shriek.
“They got into your head. They told you all these lies about us”
“No, they didn’t!” I yell, even though it’s not the best idea when he’s this upset. “Pull over. Pull over and we’ll talk.”
“When we get home, we’ll talk.”
“That’s not my home,” I whisper, and he grimaces. “You lied. You lied about so much. Why?”
“Because I love you,” he says. “I love you, and we’re meant to be together. So, you do what it takes whenever you love someone that much.”
Rain pelts the windshield, and the cars grow blurry.
“Slow down,” I beg. “Please, please, before you run someone off the road.”
He chuckles. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he mutters, and I frown. “I did it with you. And everything turned out fine.”
But he slows down, and I can breathe again.
Wait…
“You did what with me?” I hiss. “What do you mean, you did it with me?”
“They didn’t treat you right,” he explains. “You were in a big fight with them, and you were crying. I knew they would slip up one day, and I just had to wait. So, I followed you.”
“What are you talking about?” I demand as tears fill my eyes.
“I didn’t mean for you to fall into the ditch. I wanted to talk to you, but you slammed on your brakes, and it just happened,” he says, as I fight back tears. “But I got you to the hospital and it was fine! And you didn’t remember anything, so we had a fresh start.”
I shake with rage and despair.
“You caused the accident?” I whisper.
“Babe, I swear I didn’t mean to,” he says, taking his eyes off the road and turning to me. “I promise. I just wanted to be there for you.”
“Watch out!” I shriek, as headlights flash at us. He drifts in and out of the lane and I close my eyes, waiting for an inevitable impact.
I’m going to die.
He continues talking, and I’m forced to listen to his nightmarish confession as the truck swerves with the wind and rain.
“I loved working in the garden with you, and they couldn’t handle that,” he continues. “You were the only one who listened to me. Who understood me? The best part of my day was coming to work and seeing you…babe, they didn’t deserve you.”
He starts to cry, and I panic.
“Please, just pull over, please, Michael.”
He takes an exit, finally driving off the freeway and to a dimly lit gas station.
I have no idea where we are.
I don’t even have my phone; I left it in my bedroom at the Inn.
At my home.
“They fired me,” he continues, as he places the truck in park. “They fired me because they couldn’t handle what we have.”
I don’t remember any of it, and it makes this so much worse.
He’s the reason I don’t have my memories.
I scream into my hands, letting out my frustrations, and he reaches out a hand to rub my back. I jerk at his touch and tug at the door handle.
It doesn’t open. When I try to fumble with the lock, nothing happens.
“I love you,” he says, watching me struggle. I unbuckle my seatbelt and thrust my hip against the door.
“This isn’t love. Unlock the door, Michael.”
“It is, Harper.”
Harper.
“That’s not even my name!” I shriek, turning to face him. “You made up an entirely new identity for me. One that you wanted! You never told me about gardening, you said people didn’t like me, that I wasn’t sociable…you molded me into what was convenient for you!”
He grips my hand, and I try to shake it away, but he remains firm. “I was going to tell you, eventually.”
“You even lied about my allergy to cats! Why?”
He doesn’t let go of me. His eyes are frantic and bloodshot as he stares at me. “Let’s start over. We can start over, my love, please. I’ll even tell you my real name, I promise.”
What?!
I glance out the window at the gas station, waving my other arm, hoping someone inside will see. “Help me!” I yell, banging on the window.
“Babe, stop, please. Don’t make this difficult.”
He’s unhinged. He sobs, as if this is my fault and that I’m the one that created this sick, twisted life for us.
“Let me go”
My head hits the window and I slump against it, succumbing to darkness.