HARRY

I wake before Chloe the following morning, my back stiff from lying in one position all night with her head on my shoulder. And when I say all night, what I mean is in between having sex with her, which happened more than a couple of times. 

I don't know what has happened to me. I'm so fucking confused. I thought Chloe would have left me long before now. I pushed her and pushed her and pushed her, and still she came back for more. I treated her just as badly, if not worse, than Sofía. But she has stayed loyal to me and has become close to me on a level that I have never shared with anyone before. She annoyed the fuck out of me at first. I would even go so far as to say I hated her, or at least I hated her following me around. I don't know when things changed, but they have and now I don't know what to do.

I miss Sofía - I can't deny that. I miss the good times and I missed the sex, when it was good and regular and fun. And now I am doing that with Chloe, and more, so I don't miss the sex anymore. So where does that leave me and Sofía? Where does it leave Dylan? Where does it leave Chloe? And the answer is, right now it doesn't fucking matter because once the police catch up with me they're going to lock me up and throw away the key. 

I feel guilty for cheating on Sofía. I have never really worried about it before - I've always been more worried about being caught and facing her wrath than what the long term implications would be. But now I am thinking back to all those times I cheated and the few times Sofía knows about, and how that must have hurt her yet she still stayed and refused to give up on me, just like Chloe has been doing. What could I have had with Sofía if I had treated her right? The first year we were together was amazing. I fell in love with her pretty quickly, but things changed as she got into the later stages of pregnancy and it stopped being fun. Instead of trying to make things work, I took a step back and started looking for fun elsewhere. I knew she was miserable and that made me resent her further. 

The longer I have been on the run, the more I have realised how much Sofía looked after me just as much as she looked after Dylan. I wouldn't have lasted five minutes if Chloe hadn't been here to pick up the reins. I owe Chloe so much. She has literally kept me alive and free this whole time, and has been everything I needed and more. She has done what I should have let Sofía do. And now everything is messed up because I have all these feelings for Sofía and for Chloe, and I don't know how to make sense of them. 

I have never had this sexual chemistry with anyone like this before, and I don't know if that is because I have never let anyone get close to me like Chloe. Sex with Chloe means something. I feel... cared for when she touches me and kisses me. Her lack of experience is a turn on that I never could have imagined. Knowing that I am the only person in the world ever to make her feel like this is a massive ego boost. When she lets me do something new, and puts her trust in me, I feel like I can conquer the world. 

I'm relieved she knows about Dylan. I have worried about slipping up accidentally, especially when the subject of Chris comes up, or the bag of money that is considerably lighter than it was at the start of this journey. I wonder if the police know about the money. If not, they must be wondering how I'm managing to stay alive. I wonder if Sofía has told them anything. I wonder if she wonders about me, or whether she has written me off for good. There will be no going back once she finds out about Chloe. I'm not sure how I feel about that.

In my arms Chloe stirs. I watch as she gives a deep sigh and opens her eyes, blinking a couple of times and then smiling softly at me. "I've been thinking," she begins, and I frown at her.

"You've only just this second woken up!"

She rolls onto her back, stretching her arms above her head as she speaks. "Yes, but I was thinking last night. You need to contact Dylan today."

My stomach flutters uncomfortably at the mention of Dylan's name. "I don't know if that's a good idea," I mutter, and avert my gaze to the wall to avoid her stare.

When she responds, her voice is soft. "It's his birthday, Harry. You can't let it go without attempting to speak to him."

I have had the same thought repeatedly these last couple of weeks as the date crept nearer but I have always delayed the decision, afraid of confronting the real issue here: in order to speak to Dylan, I must ring Sofía. That is far more scary than anything else I have encountered so far. 

"You won't regret it if you do call," Chloe is saying, "but you will regret it if you don't."

"I don't know Sofía's number," I mumble, but she makes a huff of dismissal. 

"There are messages from her in your phone," she replies, with a note of finality in her tone. "You can get her number from there. You should do it this morning before we move on, just in case anyone tries to trace the call."

She is out of bed before I can protest and disappears into the bathroom for a shower. I mull all of this over while the water is running, wondering what sort of reception I will get from Sofía if I do call. Will she hang up on me? Will she yell at me? Or will she demand to know where I have been and what the hell is going on? When Chloe emerges from the bathroom fully dressed, she begins packing up our things into the bags, pulling faces at the dirty clothes and muttering to herself about how she should have washed some of them last night while she had the opportunity. 

"Come on," she trills, nudging the bed with her thigh as she tidies up. "Get up and showered. We need to have breakfast and then get out of here once you've made your phone call."

I decide not to snap at her for nagging me, and instead haul myself out of bed and do as she says. After a cooked breakfast in the hotel restaurant while Chloe consults the atlas and plans our next move, she returns to the room to retrieve our things and check out while I am instructed to walk up the road to find the nearest phone box and then meet her in the lobby when I am done. 

As I wander down the front steps onto the street my eye is caught by a family retrieving an umbrella and rain macs from the boot of their car that is parked in front of the hotel, opposite the entrance of the station. I watch the dad set the items down on the pavement and rearrange the boot before he shuts the lid. I watch the mum wiping sticky hands and faces and then manoeuvring wriggling arms into the sleeves of the macs. I feel a pang in my stomach as I think of all the times Sofía wipes Dylan's hands and face just like this, and her face when she looks over at me to share a look of mutual adoration at the little human we created. I turn back a few times to watch the family over my shoulder, and realise as they hurry off towards the train station that the dad has dropped the keys to the car in their haste to catch the train. I open my mouth to shout to them, but then decide against drawing any attention to myself and resolve to pick up the keys and hand them in at reception when I get back - I'll only be a couple of minutes, surely.

It takes me nearly fifteen minutes to find a phone box, and luckily it is in working order. My hands tremble as I pull out a handful of coins and shove them in the slot, dropping a few on the floor in my nervousness. I jab clumsily at the numbers, reading them off a bit of paper that Chloe has given me with Sofía's number on. My heart beats rapidly as it rings, and my palms feel slippery against the plastic receiver. I'm almost certain I have beads of sweat on my top lip.

Maybe she won't answer. I have withheld the number to avoid being traced, and I know she normally ignores withheld calls. 

"Hello?" 

Fuck.

My breath catches in my throat at the sound of her voice and her thick Spanish accent, and I am suddenly overcome with emotion that I wasn't expecting. I swallow hard, my mouth dry and sticky.

"Hello?" she says again.

She's going to hang up if I don't speak.

"Sof?" I murmur, and it comes out huskily thanks to the lump in my throat.

"Harry?" she breathes.

"Yeah," I mutter, and she is silent for a second or two. I swallow again.

"Are you alright?" she asks eventually. I can't read her tone.

"Yeah. I'm OK. Are you alright?"

She pauses again before answering. "Well, I suppose so. I'm kind of wondering where the fuck you are, though."

I know better than to tell her where I am. The less the knows, the better. "Is Dylan OK?" I ask, and my voice trips on his name.

"He's fine. He's just been opening presents. My mother is here, she's been helping out since you left."

This time there is no mistaking the bitterness in her voice.

"I'm so sorry, Sof," I mumble. "This is such a mess. I never meant for any of this to happen. Believe me... so much has happened. So much has changed. I've been a shit..." My voice breaks and cut myself off here before I start fucking crying down the phone.

She is quiet for a couple of seconds, and when she speaks again her voice is softer. "Dylan misses you." 

My chest heaves; I can't control it. "I miss him too," I manage to say. "I miss you. I'm sorry. For everything."

"Who are you with, Harry?" Her tone isn't accusing, more weary. But it is enough to tell me that she knows I am with Chloe, and my heart sinks further as another sob escapes.

"I'm sorry Sof. I wish I could just explain everything."

"Then explain it." 

"I can't, I... not here, not on the phone like this."

"Come home, then. Come and explain to me in person." 

"You know I can't."

I hear a noise in the background, a childish exclamation of either joy or indignation, and my heart leaps at the sound of Dylan's little voice.

"Is Dylan there now? Will you put him on, please Sof, I just wanna say happy birthday to him." 

I squeeze my eyes shut as I hear her coaxing him to the phone, and picture his chubby little legs waddling towards her, a cheeky smile on his face. Sofía's voice is muffled, away from the phone. "Come and say hi to Daddy."

And then Dylan's voice, shrill and full of excitement: "Daddy!"

"Hey, my little mate," I sing as happily as I can, my voice strangled from holding back tears. "Happy birthday! Are you having a good day?"

"My bir-day!" Dylan sings back. "My daddy on phone!"

"Yeah, Daddy's on the phone," I choke, wiping my cheeks with my fist. "Are you being good for Mummy?"

"Yes," he answers solemnly.

"That's great, that's great, dude," I croak. "I love you, OK? Daddy loves you so much. I can't wait to give you a big hug soon."

"Love Daddy." 

"I love you too, mate." Fuck, this is actually painful. My heart hurts. This was nothing like I imagined it would be. 

I hear scuffling on the other end of the phone and then Sofía's voice again. "Come home, Harry."

I take a deep breath in shakily. I don't trust myself to speak.

"I miss you," she adds softly, and I let out a breath, half sigh half sob.

I am just about to reply when I hear other voices in the background, and the unmistakeable sound of a radio crackling. "Are the police there?" I ask abruptly.

"Yeah," she whispers.

I hang up the phone with a bang and I am out of the door of the phone box in less than a second. My feet pound the pavement as I tear along the street back to the hotel, my mind swimming and my heart racing. Fear is rising quickly and uncontrollably from deep inside me. I need to pull myself together and get the fuck out of here, but after that emotional phone call I am struggling to focus my mind.  My eyes dart left and right, up and down the street, searching for panda cars or unmarked police cars ready to pounce. How long was I on the phone for? It seemed like only seconds but was it long enough to get a trace on the number, and the location of the phone box? I'm not hanging around to find out.

I turn down the road leading to the hotel and the station and as I career along the street I can see Chloe up ahead standing outside the front of the hotel, all our bags at her feet, looking at her watch. She is probably wondering what the hell is taking me so long. She looks up at the sound of my footsteps, fear and alarm registering on her face immediately when she sees my panic.

"Police... traced the call..." I yell as I approach, and the colour drains from her face in a couple of seconds. I skid to halt next to the car belonging to the family from earlier, my lungs searing from the exertion of running so fast. I bend over, my hands on my knees, and as I do so the solution comes so clearly it was as if it were pre-planned.

"Is this all our stuff? Is this everything?" I pant, indicating to the bags around Chloe who is now flapping uncontrollably.

She has barely confirmed it before I have grabbed the dropped car keys at my feet, blipped the car in front of me open and hurled our bags into the boot.

"Wh - how - what the fuck are you doing?" Chloe gapes as I run around to the driver's side and yank the door open impatiently.

"What the fuck does it look like?" I hiss maniacally at her. "Stealing a car! Now get in!"

She asks no further questions but dives into the front seat, scrambling to clip her seatbelt into place, the door barely closing before I wheel spin out of the car park and up the road.

---***---

I realised yesterday, just after I finished writing this chapter, that this book had just surpassed 100k reads! I was so happy to reach this milestone as this story has been a bit of a slow burner with sporadic updates. I started writing it in 2017 after planning the plot for about 2 years prior to that, so I'm really excited to be finishing it and to have hit one of the big milestones! Thanks to everyone reading, and for all the votes and comments. Next update will be next weekend xx