When Boo was quite small, her father and grandmother took her to the local park downtown. In one hand she held a homemade Raggedy-Ann doll, given to her by Martha. In her other was her father's hand, keeping her tethered to safety as the three of them crossed the grassy lawn surrounding the park's playground. Once the swings were in full view, Boo took off like a bullet to get the highest swing on the set.

"Push me!" she squealed to her father, chubby cheeks squished up in a smile as her hands wrapped around the rusted chains. Her feet kicked the air, as if her tiny body could somehow create enough force to swing unassisted. Russell gave his daughter a charming smile, characteristic of his easy nature, and rounded the swing to begin pushing her gently.

Martha was close behind her son-in-law. "I wish every day was like this for her," she'd said, crossing her arms and watching Boo with a wistful smile. "Just sunshine. I love seeing that little smile."

Russell had sighed, a little too deeply. "I do my best. Things are getting more difficult between us."

"I'm trying to help, for Melita's sake," Martha had said, keeping her voice low so Boo wasn't distracted from her playtime. "But my daughter is a bit of a wild card. Sometimes I wonder where I went wrong with her."

"I still love Lori," Russell said quietly. He gave the swing another gentle push and Boo giggled loudly in glee. "She gave me the best present I could ever hope to have. But there's too much going on between us and around us to continue the way we are."

Martha had paused, absorbing his words. "Around you?"

Russell laughed dryly. "Maybe you haven't noticed, but I don't look like too many folks 'round here. Melly is the same way, and I'm worried about what kind of suspicion she'll grow up under."

A strange look had crossed Martha's face, one Russell didn't see. Something melancholy, almost guilty hung in the air around her. The sun continued to shine but suddenly she felt cold.

"I want to protect her from the things people say about me," Russell continued. "About Lori, about all of us. But I'm one man and there's a whole world of ignorance out there."

"What could seriously go wrong in a town of a thousand people?" Martha had laughed dismissively, hugging her arms tighter around her thin frame.

"You'd be surprised," Russell said. His eyes stayed on his daughter as he helped her off the swingset so she could run over to the slides. "Even the best people are capable of some really terrible things."

* * *

This isn't a conversation that Boo has any recollection of. But she does remember the beat-up old swing set, the pink shoes she wore that day, the way the sun beat down on her ebony skin, and the smell of the wisteria on the breeze. She remembers how high she swung and that she could almost see the shores of Jack Creek Lake beyond the edges of the city. Almost.

How different things would've been if she stopped laughing, even for the shortest of moments, and listened beyond the chirping of the birds. Maybe she would have understood what her father meant-about his impending divorce, Lori's drug use hitting a head, or the nasty way people looked at the Taylor family. Maybe she would have understood what he meant about good people and terrible things. Maybe she wouldn't have looked at Martha with such praise, despite the sacrifices she made once Russell had finally passed.

Maybe coming to conclusions, knelt over stolen files on the carpeted floor in the home of a boy she might actually love, wouldn't seem so impossible.

But maybe only counts for a handful of things, and this situation isn't one of them. And try as one might, the past is unchangeable.

* * *

"I don't know anymore," Boo says, tossing the last paper in her hand onto the pile strewn across the floor. She sighs and flops onto her back, feeling the scratchy sensation of the carpet pressing into the bare parts of her skin. "I feel like I'm looking at things through a fogged window. It's there, I just can't see it."

Harry sighs too. Papers rustle noisily and when she looks over, he's also sprawled out on the floor, his feet barely brushing against hers. "My brain is mush."

He sounds exhausted. Boo feels the same; fatigue sits heavy on her bones. Yawning, she rubs her face and struggles to sit up. "Should we call it a night?"

"Think we have to," Harry mumbles. "My eyes are starting to hurt."

"Do you have coffee here?" Boo asks tiredly. "I can't fall asleep when I'm driving home."

"No coffee," he answers quickly. "Guess you'll have to stay the night."

A jolt of adrenaline fires through Boo's veins, and her eyes perk up. "Sleep over?"

He nudges her gently with his foot. "That's what I said," he laughs. "Only if you're comfortable with that."

"I . . . I don't have extra clothes with me," she sputters nervously. Suddenly she's acutely aware of the fact that her legs are unshaven and she's in desperate need of a shower.

"I'll give you clothes."

"Can I shower here?"

"No, I just hand-wash myself using the sink."

She kicks him in the ankle and he groans. "Ow."

A beat passes with Boo nervously weighing her options. "I guess the couch seems comfy."

Harry laughs breathily. "I won't make you sleep on the couch."

Oh. Boo's cheeks flush hot as the sinful thoughts re-enter her mind. "I see," she simpers. "Hope your bed is just as cozy."

She hears him chuckle before he shifts to a sitting position. "If you want to shower, there are towels in the linen cupboard and shampoo in the bathroom. I'll leave some clothes for you on my bed."

"Thank you," she says while coming to her feet. "I'll leave you some hot water."

* * *

Boo emerges a few minutes later with her body wrapped tightly in a towel and a refreshed soul. She tiptoes into Harry's room and changes into the clothes he's left folded for her-a black shirt and black boxer shorts that barely hang off her hips. She wraps her hair up in the towel and pads back into the living room to find Harry curled up on the couch with the remote in his hand, mindlessly flicking through channels with the television on mute. The room is much darker now with the lights off and with no sound coming from the TV, the quiet summer night is almost eerie. Boo sits at Harry's feet, already tempted to lay down and fall asleep.

"Boo?" Harry asks after a moment.

"Yes," she murmurs.

"What's that?"

She follows his gaze and realizes he's gesturing to her backpack. Her heart drops slightly as she sees the corner of a manila folder peeking out from the depths of her bag.

Her file from the station.

Immediately she's tempted to lie, but she reigns in that desire when Harry looks back at her and she sees the lack of judgement in his eyes. "I took it with Nana and Damien's files," Boo admits in a small voice.

"Whose file is it?" he asks placidly.

"Mine," she answers after a moment. He visibly relaxes, something Boo finds unwarranted, but she doesn't press it. "I'm too scared to open it yet."

Outside the window begins the accompaniment of an incoming thunderstorm. Harry has a blank look in his eyes. "Fear is probably the only thing that drove you to take it. That and curiosity. I think you should read it."

Boo is struck by his words. She snatches the file from her bag and clutches it close to her chest, feeling the compulsive need to keep it protected from his watchful eye. "Why were you looking in my bag?"

"I wasn't snooping," he answers bluntly. "Your bag was open and I happened to look down."

She shifts awkwardly. The file feels a hundred pounds heavy in her arms. "I can't read it yet. I know I took it for a reason but now that I think about it . . . I can't."

He pulls himself to a sitting position, his eyes pensive. "What's stopping you?"

A million answers echo in her mind. Fear, guilt, shame, paranoia; the past, the present, the future. The fact that their reality lay somewhere between truth and fiction. Rather than face the barrage of emotion inside by replying, Boo crawls off the couch and pads away into the dark solace of Harry's bedroom. She hears him call after her in confusion, but she remains wordless. His room is as cozy as the rest of the house; light brown walls, a big bed with striped blue blankets on top, and minimal furniture scattered around. She hovers just beyond the threshold of the doorway, fighting to catch her breath. All the sudden her skin is crawling with a thousand bugs.

"Lita," Harry says softly from the dim hallway. "Are you alright?"

His words stir her into action. "Maybe I shouldn't have taken it," Boo laments, pacing anxiously around the foot of the bed. Harry watches her closely as she wrings her hands together. "This is worse than Schrödinger."

"Boo, I don't think we have any other choice," he says in a low voice. "It's here now, you as well. Rip off the plaster. That file is your only leverage against what they may have planned for you."

"Planned for me?" she squeaks in terror. She whirls on him quickly. "I-I'm no Lori, I don't deserve punishment! I took a little paperwork, so what!"

"That's not what I mean, Lita," he says mournfully.

A moment's hesitation. Somewhere outside, lightning cracks and paints the walls a stark white for the briefest of moments. Boo's never felt fear as deep and unsettling as the feeling that seeps through her veins now. She drops the file from her grip and tosses it into the open drawer of a nearby desk.

"There," she pants, slamming the drawer shut. "Now we don't have to think about it."

Harry sighs from the doorway. Thunder breaks and punctuates the air with a deep growl. "Boo, I don't think-"

"Not now, Harry," she says dismissively. "We've got enough on our plate. What did you find out about Calum?"

There's a strange look on his face. "He spends a lot of time in Harrisford," he says after a moment. "There's a VA clinic there, he went in yesterday but I don't know why."

"You didn't follow him in?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not a veteran, Boo. They'd turn me away and I'd only be drawing attention."

She bites her lip in thought. Harry stands and crosses the room, his eyes pensive. Boo goes to shy away from him and back into the living room, but he stops her by gently catching her arm.

"Why are you so wound up about that file?" he asks quietly. "If you want to know what it says, just read it."

"I can't," Boo replies brusquely. She turns away from him; the last thing she needs is someone touching her, trying to calm her when all she wants to do is break something. Not even Harry can help this time. "Not yet."

"Can I read it then?"

Rain begins to pelt against the window. Boo nods and Harry keeps his eyes on her as he retrieves her file from his desk. Her heartrate spikes as he flips it open to a single page of notes. Mere moments pass as he skims the page before he hands it to her with an encouraging look.

Her hands are trembling as she takes the paper. Immediately she recognizes the date branded across the top of the page; May 3rd, the day after Hurricane Monroe.

The day she found out Martha had died.

SUBJECT INTERVIEW-CONDUCTED 5.3.14, B. LOUGHTON #5609

"Subject is very irate, uncooperative, verbally aggressive. Refusing to answer basic questions, denies any involvement in grandmother's death. Alibi-"was at work", Harrisford Hardware Hub in Harrisford. Unwilling to cooperate further, demanded to be shown to morgue for an identification. Further questioning is expected. Due to subject's relation to Lori Taylor, who has been previously arraigned and convicted on multiple drug charges, there is reason for alarm at her behavior. Caution has been advised from senior officers. Currently added to active investigation for possible involvement in the death of Martha Taylor."

"I knew it," Boo warbles, wiping some stray tears from her eyes. "He practically accused me right off the bat."

"I know as well as any person in this town that you had nothing to do with her death," Harry says firmly. His voice catches her off guard and she glances up at him through watery vision. "Anyone who loves someone as much as you love her isn't capable of doing that."

Tears roll down her cheeks. Her hands shake harder, but not from fear anymore. Air slips from her mouth in the form of a small sob and immediately Harry's arms are around her, holding her together in the midst of another breakdown. The paper falls from her hands and flutters to the floor.

"Every time I think . . . I'm past this, something else reminds me of that day and I-" She stops and sputters out more tears. "-I completely cave."

Harry grips her tighter, running one hand over her hair while the other gently squeezes her waist. "They have no reason to accuse you of anything. Their ignorance is based on fear, Boo, but that doesn't reflect any part of you."

A chill settles in the room. Harry breathes in deeply and exhales in her ear. "Can I tell you something?"

She sniffles and straightens up in his arms. "Tell me what?"

He watches her closely, reaching up with both hands to gently wipe away her tears with the pads of his thumbs. "The last time I spoke to Martha, she was helping me through something that felt just as terrifying. She and I went out to dinner in Harrisford and we spent several hours just talking to each other, sharing our pasts and our fears-things that felt so isolating, even though they brought us together in the end."

Boo listens in quiet fascination. Harry brushes some stray hair away from her forehead and tucks it behind her ear. "I've done some terrible things in my time. But they led to me someone as kind and forgiving as Martha, and she in turn led me to you. And even though you are innocent, I know what it is that you're feeling right now. It's fucking terrifying, but it isn't forever. And it isn't resolute. Whatever they throw at you, they'll have to throw at me too."

"Harry," Boo cries, gripping his shirt tighter. Grateful tears skip down her full cheeks, but Harry's there to swipe them away before they fall too far.

"You're not alone, Boo," he says firmly, and for a moment he also sounds on the verge of breaking down. "We met for a reason, even if it's just to protect each other from a town that will never understand. I'll do whatever I can to make sure that happens."

She breathes in and the smell of the rain engulfs her. Something in the air between them is different; more vulnerable. Boo feels more naked in her clothes now than if she were to be fully bare. Reaching up, she brushes her thumb over his bottom lip before pulling him in and closing the distance between.

Blue moonlight spills in through the slats in his blinds, cutting pale strips of light across the carpet and the foot of his bed. Boo's stomach flutters nervously as Harry begins to lead her further into the room, his calloused hands pressed gently against the small of her back. Her heart skips a beat and she breaks away.

"Harry, I-" She stops, not wanting to ruin the moment.

Forest green gazes back at her. Her heart skyrockets into her throat. "Don't worry," he whispers. One hand grapples her waist, his fingertips digging pleasantly into her curves and anchoring her body closer to his. "It's just you and me."

Like a quiet breath of courage, this confirmation is all she needs. She sheds her fear, instead guiding his other hand to the waistband of his boxers still sitting snugly on her hips. Skin against skin, his mouth on hers, his hands threading through her hair. Before she knows it, the bed is hitting the back of her thighs and she's being gently laid out on top of his comforter.

"What do you want, Melita?" His voice, like silk, is in her ear. She stares at the ceiling, momentarily lost in elation, while his mouth leaves a trail down her neck to her collarbones. "Don't think."

How foreign the feeling is-to be asked a question she's never heard before. Shallow breaths pass her parted lips; it's hard to think through the dizzying sensation of his teeth grazing her earlobe.

"You," she pants, her breath caught in her throat. Her nails rake down his back to tug at the hem of his shirt. Off it comes, and then his warm skin is all she can feel under her hands. "You, Harry, I want you."

Hips clash and open hearts meet. Harry's jeans are hastily unzipped and thrown out of sight, shortly followed by her shirt and the towel still wrapped around her hair. Damp curls spill out in a halo on the bed, sticking to her skin as a bundle of fireworks begins to build deep within her stomach. Her hands wind tightly around the blanket beneath her as her excitement is exacerbated by the sight of Harry, slightly out of breath while his hair hangs down around him, knelt over her. Beyond the lust in his eyes lingers a deep adoration.

Moonlight coats his skin where her greedy fingers can't reach. His forehead leans against hers and he plants a hungry kiss on her mouth while his hand dances down to her underwear.

* * *

Time becomes a blur of starlight and crashing electricity as they move together; no longer two bleeding hearts, but two healing souls who somehow managed to find each other in a sea of chaos. Lightning cracks. The thunder strikes inside of her. Rain pelts against the window as she comes undone underneath Harry. He inhales deeply, lost in the clean, almost sweet smell of the downpour leaking in through the window frame. All of it is her. The rain, the thunder, the rolling storm clouds; her heart beats like every pulse of electricity that strikes the atmosphere.

"What a storm to be caught in," he murmurs in her ear, his breath hitting her bare neck in erratic puffs.

He isn't referencing the literal downpour outside, or even the chaos he and Boo constantly find themselves surrounded by. She is his rainstorm-a caustic breath of life; a snap of blinding light to split open the overwhelming darkness that follows him closer than his own shadow.

"I'll give you shelter," she whispers, a breathy laugh slipping out from her lips. Her mind goes back to that first day in his car, crooning along to Bob Dylan while her heart tried to mend.

He chuckles and curls up beside her, holding her tightly in his arms. They listen to the rain outside for a moment. The storm seems to be lightening up, but Harry knows it's only temporary.

"Isn't it strange how something so destructive could bring us together?" she asks, her words lingering in the hollow air between their bodies.

He smirks. Dimples punctuate the soft swell of his cheeks. "Good thing I like strange."

oh my god i love this chapter, i think it may be my favorite one yet.

hope you liked it too! sorry it's been a hot minute since i updated, i got back from overseas a few weeks ago and it's been a little chaotic trying to get back into a normal work/gym/writing routine. hopefully i'll get myself figured out one day LOL

until next time loves! be sure to check out instagram for this chapter's edit :*

ALSO - be sure to read the latest update to The Brave Ones (my other story) if you haven't yet! i promise it'll be worth your while ;)