“It’s a long story.” I roll my eyes. “Well, actually it isn’t, but that can wait… I made it.” I grin at Stuart, my shoulders softening.
“Harley.” He looks at me, his face wrinkling up before a pained half smile dusts over his lips.
“I made it, Stu.” My eyes widen. “He’s still filming.” I jab my finger toward the red light, flashing like a warning beacon.
“I’m sorry.”
“But you said an hour, you said—” I bend at the waist, leaning on the wall for support as my chest tightens and spots dance across my vision. Red flashing ones.
He’s still filming. I was in time.
“We finished early at the previous news channel. It’s too late, Harley. I’m sorry.”
“So that’s it? I’m too late?” I look at Stuart, my fingers beginning to shake as my stomach knots itself.
He doesn’t answer, just gives me a grim nod.
“I need air.”
“Harley?” he calls after me, but I’m already running up the corridor, one hand trailing along the wall for support.
“I need some air, Stu,” I cry as I run down the corridor desperate to get into an elevator, ignoring the curious looks from the few members of staff I pass on the way.
I will the elevator to move fast, and thankfully it sails to the ground level without stopping on any other floors. I squeeze out through the crack in the doors, not waiting for them to open all the way. Then I run until I’m out on the sidewalk, the air of the city greeting me like an old friend as I gulp in deep breaths.
“I was too late,” I murmur as I walk along the front of the building, finding a spot of wall to rest my head back against, and allowing my body to slump in defeat.
That video is with the police now. People will be watching it. Reed will have to watch it. He might have to see it in a trial. In a courtroom full of people, their eyes glued to his face in morbid fascination as they study his reaction, drinking it in like it’s an episode of CSI and not real life.
Not his life.
The most incredible, passionate man I have ever met.
I sink to the floor, ignoring the strange looks people are giving me as they pass. Hot tears fill my eyes.
He doesn’t deserve this. Any of it. Not that night years ago. Not having it all brought back and used against him.
None of it.
I sit and I cry. I cry for him. I cry for me. I cry for us. But mostly I cry for anyone who has ever been hurt in such a heinous way before, like Reed. I cry for them and the people who love them. I cry for the unfairness of it all.
I cry until my throat is dry and stinging and my face is puffy.
“Harls?”
I snap my eyes open in the direction of his voice. The second I do, he’s there. Right in front of me. Smoky-quartz eyes gazing into mine, their warm, golden flecks calling out like searchlights in the dark.
Searching for me.
“Reed?”
His dark blue suit jacket brushes my knees as he crouches in front of me, his brow furrowed.
“The video,” I whisper, my voice shaking.
He nods, his handsome face clouded with an expression I can’t read. “I know.”
“You shouldn’t have had to do it. It’s my fault. I should have done something when they first came to me. I should have found out who it was faster. I don’t know… I… I should have done more.” My eyes squeeze shut as fresh tears spill.