Harper's Rules 1 & 2

Chapter 22: Jake

I'm so confused.

I... I... Why is she mad?

I had no idea what the fuck Harper said to me. She flipped back and forth between I hadn't done enough to support her with the leaked photo accusations to she wanted me to get the fuck out of her life so many times that my head throbbed with a headache.

I'm literally the human equivalent of a punching bag.

My resolve hardened when she rasped out, "That's it."

"What the fuck do you mean that's it?" The words ripped painfully out of my mouth and left a bad taste as silence lingered between me and the ridiculously emotional version of Harper that stood in front of me.

I'd suggest she takes a few more days to calm down but I don't think that'll help.

"Is this something else you need to fuck out of your system?" I spat out bluntly.

Also like more times than I'd counted, Harper's anger slipped under a mask of indifference. Her shoulders lifted and whatever fire had burned in her eyes instantly died. "I... don't want to have sex anymore."

I caught the dullness in her eyes before they dropped and she hugged her elbows in her palms. "Sorry."

She didn't clarify 'with me,' but my thoughts shifted back to whoever she'd been with earlier.

If that what she means but won't actually say it then fuck, that's low.

"You think I'm worried about that?" I coughed the words out. My dick was the last part of me I'd thought about over the past two weeks.

Physically, I was beyond exhausted from Coach Cambell's workout prep prior to the PAC-12 playoffs. I'd spent every other day at the hospital and quarantined myself away from the leeches who hounded me for story sound bites. Our bye week was before the UCLA game, which was the only reason I'd been with Harper when her mom dropped in for a surprise mindfuck, right in the middle of the toughest practice sessions of the entire semester.

After I smashed my phone, I followed Coach Campbell's recommendations and offered nothing of myself, in public or private. Most of my meals were eaten within the confines of my bedroom. Since the photo shit blew up and other than one fucking message that I finally got after I'd replaced my phone, Harper the hypocrit had been a ghost. We both had though, although I assumed my reasons were better than hers.

Mentally... I missed her. Since our whole house was essentially locked down, the guys poured over their phones. The nasty shit I saw spewed about Harper made my stomach sick and she was right.

I didn't say anything.

When she flashed that photo of me with Wyatt, my heart sank down into my stomach. I had absolute no arguments about her brother because fuck, I had no idea that's who he was. We'd only interacted twice, once with the team visit and one of my solo visits. When I returned with two jerseys, one for him and one for his dad, again they were the only two people I saw at the hospital. Had I seen Harper's mom then I would've gone straight to Harper and told her myself.

I don't even know Wyatt's last name and seriously doubt it's Reynolds.

Unfortunately, she was also right in that I would've interjected had I known. Now that I knew Wyatt was her brother, I fought back the urge that I encouraged her to visit him even when she wanted nothing to do with me. Regardless of what her mom did, or even his dad, Wyatt was an innocent kid who wanted to know who his sister was.

Before I told her the truth, how I really hadn't known he was anything other than a kid who battled leukemia, she unleashed her true feelings on me. Like a pathetic, lovesick sap, I absorbed every one of her accusations. At the moment, I thought if she'd have just gotten her concerns and fears out in the open, then she could slap, punch, kiss, fuck whatever she wanted to me if it made her feel better.