Chapter 7 Dark Secrets We Hide
Harper's POV,
The second we stepped outside, the cameras exploded in our faces.
Flash after flash after flash, so bright I literally couldn't see anything except afterimages burning into my retinas.
Voices screaming over each other, a wall of sound slamming into me from every direction.
"CREW! OVER HERE!"
"Who's the girl?"
"CREW, STATEMENT! NOW!"
My feet stopped moving, like my brain hit the panic button and shut down every system except the one screaming oh God oh God oh God.
Then Crew's arm locked around my shoulders and yanked me into his side… hard, protective and possessive all at once.
"Don't look at them." His voice was right against my ear, low and steady. "Just walk with me. I've got you."
We were almost to his car when some asshole at the back of the mob shouted, "Is it true you're Joel Hartley's ex?"
Every muscle in Crew's body went rigid.
The cameras kept flashing but suddenly nobody was talking, like someone had hit mute on the entire world.
Then he turned around, and his face was completely different from the one I'd seen all night. Cold and dangerous in a way that made my stomach drop.
"She's MY girlfriend," he said, his voice coming out lethal. "That's all you need to know about her. Got it?"
The silence that followed was absolute.
Nobody dared to ask another damn question.
As we got to the car, Crew practically lifted me into the passenger seat and slammed the door. He got in, started the engine, and drove away like none of it had happened.
I stared out the window for a few blocks, trying to get my heart to stop hammering.
The silence in the car felt suffocating.
"You didn't have to do that," I finally said.
"Yes, I did."
"They were just asking…"
"No." His hands tightened on the steering wheel. "You're mine for the next three months. Nobody gets to disrespect you."
There it was again. Mine. That word made me tingle every single time he said it.
"We're fake though," I said quietly. "This whole thing is fake."
Crew didn't answer. Just kept driving, his jaw locked tight.
Then he reached down to adjust something on the console and winced, this tiny sharp intake of breath that he tried to hide.
"You okay?"
"Fine. Just stiff from the game."
But the way he held his body said otherwise.
We hit a red light and I glanced down at the center console, looking for my phone.
And lo and behold…
I couldn't believe what I was seeing.
A prescription bottle, half-hidden under a folded jacket. Orange plastic, white label. Even in the dim light from the dashboard, I could read it.
"Oxycodone. 10mg."
My stomach dropped straight through the floor.
I'm a physical therapist, so I definitely know what that is.
And I know what it means when a professional athlete has a bottle of opioids rolling around loose in their car.
"Harper–" Crew started to say something, but I was already reaching for it.
"What is this?"
His whole body went still. "Don't."
"What is this, Crew?" I held it up and the pills rattled inside. The date on the label was from three months ago.
"This should be empty by now, or at least refilled. So why is it lying loose in your car?"
The light turned green, but he didn’t move. Not until the cars behind us started honking, and then he jerked forward.
"It's not your business," he said, his voice flat.
"The hell it isn't." I twisted in my seat to face him. "I know exactly what this is. I know what managing pain looks like and what hiding an addiction looks like."
"You don't know anything."
"Then tell me I'm wrong." My hands were jittering.
"Tell me you're taking these exactly as prescribed. Tell me you don't need them to get through games."
"Drop it, Harper."
"No." I held the bottle tighter. "You stood there and told those photographers I was yours. So if I'm yours, then you're mine too. And I don't let people I care about destroy themselves."
His hands gripped the steering wheel so hard I thought it might snap. "You don't care about me. This is fake, remember? You said so yourself."
"Well, that kiss didn't feel fake."
The words came out before I could stop them, and the car swerved slightly before he corrected it.
"What?"
"At the arena." My heart was hammering.
"When you kissed me in front of everyone. That didn't feel like acting."
"It was for the cameras."
"Was it?" I turned the bottle over in my hands. "Because I think you've been hiding more than just pills."
He pretended not to hear what I was saying and just kept driving, his jaw locked and his eyes fixed on the road.
"How bad is it?" I asked quietly. "The pain, I meant."
"Manageable."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I'm giving you."
I put the bottle back where I found it.
"Okay. You don't have to tell me. But I'm not going anywhere. So whenever you're ready to tell me the truth, I'll be here."
His throat worked like he was trying to swallow something sharp. "Even if it's fake?"
"I don't think it's been fake for a while now," I said. "Do you?"
He didn't answer. But his hand reached across the console and found mine.
….
When we pulled up in front of Maya's building, Crew didn't let go of my hand.
"I should walk you up."
"Someone might be watching?"
"No." He looked at me finally, really looked at me. "Because I don't want to let you go yet."
My breath caught.
"That kiss at the arena," he said, his thumb brushing across my knuckles. "You were right, It wasn't fake. I wanted to kiss you.” He said, as he exhaled slightly.
“Truth is, I've always wanted to since the day we signed that contract."
"Crew–"
"I'm a mess, Harper." His voice came out raw.
"I'm in pain every day. I take pills to function. It's a secret I've been hiding from everyone. And I know that makes me a terrible bet."
"You're not a bet," I said. "You're a person."
"A broken one."
"Everyone's broken." I squeezed his hand.
"The question is whether you're going to let someone help you."
He looked at me for a long moment, warring with himself.
"I'll think about it," he finally said.
It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't a no either.
He leaned across the console and kissed my forehead, gentle and heartbreaking.
Then he let go of my hand and I got out, watching him drive away with that bottle of pills rattling around in his console.
I felt like I'd just watched someone drowning tell me they were fine.
….
I let myself into the building and dropped my keys twice before making it to Maya's door. I slumped against it and slid down to the floor, pressing my palms against my eyes.
Crew was in trouble. Real trouble. And I was falling for him anyway.
As I got in, I felt my phone buzz with a text.
Unknown: I saw you at the game. We need to talk. I'm sorry, Harp. For everything. Please.
I stared at it, my thumb hovering over the delete button.
Before I could decide, there was a knock on the door.
Three sharp raps that made me jump.
Maya wasn't home. Nobody else knew I was here except…
Another knock, more insistent.
"Harper?" A muffled voice came through the door. A male voice. And it sounded familiar.
"Harper, I know you're in there. I saw you come in. Please. Just five minutes."
No.
I pressed my eye to the peephole and my entire world tilted sideways.
Joel Hartley stood in Maya's hallway, still in his game day suit, hair disheveled, eyes red-rimmed and desperate.
He'd followed me here.
"Harper, please." His voice cracked. "I know I don't deserve it. But I'm begging you. Just open the door."
He pressed his forehead against the door.
"I made a mistake," he said quietly. "The biggest mistake of my life. And I can't watch you with him anymore. I can't marry Brianna knowing that I'm still in love with you."
My hand was on the doorknob before I could stop myself.
This was insane.
Exactly what I didn't need after the night I'd just had.
But my hand was already turning the knob. Because ten years doesn't disappear just because you want it to.
The door opened and Joel's head snapped up.
"Harper," he breathed.
"You have five minutes," I said, my voice steadier than I felt.
"Then you leave and you don't come
back. Ever."
He nodded frantically. "Five minutes. That's all I need. Thank you."
I stepped back and let him inside, and as the door closed behind us, I had the terrible sinking feeling that I'd just made everything so much worse.