Page 87 of Burn Bright

“Yeah, I do,” I say, not surprised at all by her confession. Without falter, I pull Harriet on my lap, her legs splaying across the seat while I curve my arms around her back. Her hands fist my shirt, but she’s giving me her weight, wanting this closeness like I do.

The Hello Kitty blanket has slid down to her calves. She’s only wearing cotton black panties with red font spellingMondayabove her pussy. It’s Friday. Her knees—they’re bandaged. It did cross my mind she might’ve knelt on glass. Thing is, I don’t understand why Charlie would’ve too.

“What was the other end of the deal?” I ask her.

Her eyes go dark. “Does it matter?” Her fists loosen, letting go of my shirt, and her palms lie flat on my chest—which I don’t like as much. Next step will be Harriet pushing herself off me. “I got on my knees for your brother. The brother you just fought with.” Her voice rises in distress. “I’mdisgusting, Ben.”

“Please don’t ever say that again,” I say sternly, my hand slipping into her hair. “And yeah, itdoesmatter. Because the girl I know gave a blow job to a ‘hammerhead shark’ to help a lab partner. So I wouldn’t put it past her to give a blow job to the fucking devil just to help a friend.”

She doesn’t pull away. “Knowing won’t change anything.”

“I still want to know.”

She takes a breath. “I told him to stop harassing you. That was the deal.”

My mind whirls for a solid second. “He didn’t take it,” I say, assuming the better of Charlie here, because I want to believe he wouldn’t do that to her. I don’t know if I could ever forgive him if he took that deal, if he took advantage of Harriet…it’d obliterate my relationship with him, one that’s already hanging on a frayed thread.

“I thought he did. I got on my knees. I almost unzipped his pants, and then he just…backed out of it.”

I glance at the window. “His knees are bleeding, I think.”

Harriet chews the corner of her lip, trying not to cry. “He dropped to his knees too…and he said that he didn’t hate you enough to do it. That he didn’t hate you at all.”

Charlie doesn’t hate me?

It’s harder to believe in this when he’s only ever disregarded my feelings. But he did protect our relationship from imploding tonight. He has to care a little bit about me, right? Or maybe he knew Beckett would be irate with him, and he’s protecting that relationship instead.

While I’m processing, her arms extend, her chest lifts farther away from mine. She’s pushing off me.

I hold her thigh. “Harriet?—”

“You don’t get it.” She presses her palm to her sternum, as if she wants to feel each breath she takes. “I would’ve done it, Ben. I would have gone through with it—you need to know that.” I never desert her gaze. Not even as she asks, “So you see now, why we can’t be friends?”

“No, this is exactly why we’re friends. Because I understand why you did it.”

She shakes her head over and over and over. “No, Ben. You can’t.Wecan’t. Do you honestly think I can be around you after this? Every time I look at you, all I’ll think about is the deal and how fucked up I am. How I always,alwaysthink sex is theanswer to problems. A currency. It’s a loop I can’t escape, not even around you.”

I figured this might be an issue for her, but hearing her admit it has turned the theory into reality. It only makes me want to stay. I pinch my watering eyes, then say with confidence, “You don’t need to replay it on repeat when you see me. I’m not judging you?—”

“Your brothers?—”

“Would probably pat you on the fucking back, Harriet. They would see what I see.”

She’s very still. “What do you see?”

“You go to the ends of the earth to help people you barely even know. Imagine what you’d do for someone you loved.”

She looks away, out the back windshield, and then bursts into sudden tears as this reaches a vulnerable place that I think surprises her. I hold Harriet while she collapses into my chest. Lifting the blanket back up her legs, I feel her body shuddering against me.

“You haven’t fucked up,” I whisper, stroking her hair before wrapping my arms so tight around her small frame. She buries into me, and I rock her a little, resting my chin on her head. “This doesn’t end here, petit oiseau.”

Feeling her calm is calming me too. I’m not hurting her. I haven’t hurt her. After a couple minutes, her tears stop and her breaths slow. She looks up at me while I stare down at her.

“You’re not alone, you know,” I tell her. “I’m far from perfect. We all do things we wish we could take back.”

“You offer blow jobs in exchange for things too?” Her deadpan voice makes me smile.

I’m happy to hear her joke again. “I wish. Seems like a very effective trade.”