I ran back inside, feeling high from Charlie's news but by the time I reached our floor, the merry had worn off from the task ahead of me. I opened the door and remembered that Harper was showering so I tore off my t-shirt, too lazy to pull off my jeans and fell onto my bed, desperately trying to convince myself that there was another way. I buried my head in the pillow Harper used and almost lost it. Her scent assailed me just as Stateless' I'm on Fire began to play. I rolled over onto my back and drug Harper's pillow over my face, clutching it there, breathing her in while the song thrummed through me, haunting me.

I heard Harper clear her throat and I tossed the pillow off my face, hoping she didn't realize what I was doing. The song had yet to finish and all I could think was how appropriate its soundtrack would be for the conversation I was about to have.

"So," she said, leaning against the door jamb, her arms folded across her chest, her hair dripping onto her shoulders and back.

I sat up and scooted to the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do with my awkward body. "I'm leaving," I said matter-of-factly. She seemed to have expected that.

"I see," she said, moving to sit beside me. Neither of us could make eye contact so, instead, we stared blankly at my closet. "I'm going to miss you."

"And I, you." We were so quiet.

I opened my mouth to tell her everything, to confess everything I felt for her, to really verbalize it, but lost my nerve as Harper stood, leaving the right side of my body bereft of her amazing warmth just as the song came to an all too soon close. I gotta' get out of here.

After a quick shower, I threw some clothes in a duffel and grabbed my school bag but as I turned the knob of my door, I let them fall slack at my feet. There was one thing I needed to do. I sat at my desk, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen and began to write.

Harper, There's so much to say. I never planned on doing it this way but things have become so strange between us, I don't feel like myself. I feel like the honesty that used to be between us has evaporated into nothing but I know I at least owe you this letter. I owe it to myself as well, to be honest. I need to get this off my chest if I'm ever going to get over you.

I'm in love you, Harper, gut-wrenchingly in love with you. I dream about you. Every second I am awake you are in my thoughts in some manner or another. And I've always loved you. Unbeknownst to you, you've tormented me for years and though I felt I might have been strong enough when we first married to endure, now I know my heart can't take it anymore. Each time you sit next to me on the train, warm and folded into me, I have to force my hands to stay buckled at my side, to keep from seizing you. When we study on the sofa, your feet in my lap, it's everything in me not to drag your body onto mine and kiss you senseless. Every time I've placed my lips on your neck, I've imagined guiding those lips up your soft skin until they reach your mouth and owning that mouth with my own, possessing you with my tongue, Harper. And as if that wasn't bad enough, just the smell of your beautiful scent sends me reeling, careening deeper and deeper into an attraction I never thought possible.

The hardest part is that you know me, probably better than I know myself. You feel a part of me, Harper. You can read me like no one ever has. You are my best friend in this entire world and I will never have the friendship I have with you with anyone else. I know this.

Remember that day, we sat in our old living room, talking about nothing yet everything that seemed important? My heart felt so heavy that night as our conversation felt bittersweet to me. I came so close to revealing all but couldn't risk losing your friendship but now as it seems I've lost both and since I literally have nothing to lose anymore, I have to confess all because if I can't get over you, Harper, I don't know how I'll live, how I'll function without you.

That's why I'm leaving. Tonight, actually. I hate to leave you one day before Christmas but I feel like I'm struggling to breathe around you. You are everything that is important to me and yet you don't belong to me, you never really did. And that's the most painful thing to admit to myself. I've been lying to myself all this time and now I have to pay for my carelessness.

I'll be at Ames' in Seattle if you need to reach me for anything. I need the distance to get over you. Let me find out on my own if I'm doomed regardless, Harper.

I'm sorry, more than you could possibly imagine.

Callum I laid on my bed, the door closed to the rest of my shared home and listened to music until I was sure Harper had gone to bed for good. I felt like a coward but such was life. I needed distance and couldn't face her lovely face for a second longer than I had to. And so, with my letter wrapped in an envelope and sealed, I slid the message underneath her door and made my way to the bus depot. I was getting the hell out of Dodge and not a moment too soon.

Because Harper was like a bullet to the heart and if I'd stayed even a moment longer she would have obliterated it and no amount of medical attention would've been able to revive it.

Harper I cried myself to sleep. I'd lost him, I knew that. I'd lost my best friend and the one person I loved more than anyone in this world, more than myself. I woke startled, thinking I'd heard something but it was nothing. I'd only slept for maybe an hour. I glanced at my clock, it read eleven fifteen in the morning. I had no intention of doing anything but sulking in my bed the entire day save for the fifteen minutes I planned on throwing on a pair of jeans to answer the door for Chinese.

"You can at least shower, you dolt," I told myself.

I climbed out of the bed and shuffled my feet across the chilly wood floor and into the bathroom.

Turning on the hot water, I pulled my hair from its ponytail and glanced at my swollen red face in the mirror. My hair was dramatically creased from sleeping with damp hair the night before. I'd have to rewash to get it out. I leaned in closely to examine my red eyes and hoped the steam would so something for my raw skin. I washed my hair twice and conditioned and as I reached for my body wash, my hand slid across the expensive bath soap Callum bought me last year on a whim. I grabbed the gifted soap and opened the cap, inhaling its heavenly scent. The tears started again but I tried my best to ignore them. I had been saving it for a rainy day.

"What better day than today," I said out loud with a sigh.

I turned off the shower and stuffed the plug in the porcelain tub with my toe, letting it fill half way with hot water before I emptied the little bottle of bubble bath. I watched as the running water churned the soap into frothy suds for a moment before resting my head against the lip of the bathtub. My tears felt cold as they silently ran down my cheeks and neck. I breathed in the steam, letting my thoughts swim hazily through its fog.

When the water turned cold, I forced myself out and wrapped a large, thick towel around my body, using a second to squeeze excess water from my hair. The steam fogged up the mirror and I used my hand to get a clear look at myself. My eyes looked clearer and my head felt it a little as well. Just keep yourself busy, Harper, I thought to myself. Not about to waste the warmth of the room, I took out my blow dryer and dried my hair completely. There wasn't anything I hated worse than a wet head in a chilly apartment. Happy with how quickly it dried, I decided to distract myself further by curling my hair, something I never did because my hair already had a bit of a wave to it.

Half an hour later and I was desperate for another distraction so I did my makeup. That only ate up a measly fifteen minutes. I was running out of diversions in the bathroom and since all the warmth had seeped out from underneath the door, I moved to my closet, threw on a pair of panties and a bra and went on a full on search for my most comfy pair of Yoga pants. They were buried deep in the back of my closet right next to my 'Frankie Says Relax' tee.

"Why not."

Dressed, hair and makeup ridiculously done, like I had a Christmas party to go to or something, I ventured out into the living room. I hadn't heard Callum rise yet and thought I'd be safe. He liked to sleep late when he didn't have school or work. I swept past his room but couldn't hear him, his room was quiet, too quiet.

Ignoring every protest my common sense was screaming at me, I approached his door and knocked softly, at first, then harder when he didn't answer. I don't know why but I began to panic and threw open his door. He wasn't there. It was one o'clock on Christmas Eve. Where was he?

Deciding he went for a jog, I walked back to my room and slipped, my right foot shooting forward on a piece of paper beneath my Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle slipper.

"Damn it!" I bent to pick the paper up, to toss it in the waste basket but was stunned when my name appeared across the middle of an envelope.

My heart racing for reasons I had no idea, I tore open the envelope and fished a letter from the pocket. It was from Callum.

"No, no, no," I begged myself, panicked. "He left me already?" I mused out loud, my voice laced with a tremor. My hands cupped my mouth and the letter dropped to the floor. I couldn't read it, couldn't bring myself to see what he had to say. My heart was already broken. I didn't need another reminder of why it hurt so badly.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I picked it up from the floor and folded it once more but when I attempted to place it on my dresser table, I froze. One single world jumped out at me from the partially folded letter in my hand.

I ripped it back open and began pouring over its contents.

"Oh my God," I said, setting myself on the edge of the bed as I finished his written confession. "He loves me? Loves me? Of all the stupid, idiotic, ridiculous misunderstandings I have ever known...this has to be the most glorious of all."

I let the letter fall to my feet as I ran to my laptop, swinging it open a bit too forcefully and crying like I've never cried before.

"Okay, okay, okay." I breathed deeply. "One way flights to Seattle."

I found one available seat leaving that evening at five fifty-five, which wasn't ideal, but I couldn't feel too disappointed that I'd have to wait a few hours to leave. It was Christmas Eve after all. I felt lucky to get anything at all. I'd arrive half an hour before midnight with an hour layover in Philly.

"It'll do, Harper."

I grabbed my credit card and charged it, not feeling the least bit guilty. I almost felt like I should call Callum, warn him, but two reasons stopped me. One, I didn't have a phone because it was confiscated at the library after 'he who must not be named' attacked me and...almost killed me. I wasn't going to think about that. Sometime in the future, a therapist would get a very nice kitchen makeover courtesy of my sessions but until then I decided denial was best for my mental health. The second reason I didn't ring Callum was because I wanted it to be a surprise. A nice, pleasant, incredible surprise. You know, a 'look up, baby. Yeah, that's Mistletoe' kind of surprise or an 'Oh my Lord, Harper I'm so glad you're here. Let me ravish you' kind of surprise.

"What the heck am I going to do with the next two hours?" I asked myself.

I grabbed my suitcase, packed everything I needed and still had an hour and a half to spare. Fixing my hair and makeup with the care I did that morning was the rarest of rarities and the irony didn't escape me that I did it on a day I'd be flying to meet my freaking husband. The husband who thought I didn't love him like he loved me. The very husband I could have had a real marriage with if we'd just been real with one another. I felt like a jack ass. No worries, you'll remedy that very soon. Realizing, I didn't have anything for Callum to give him for Christmas, I got dressed in the outfit I wanted to fly in, threw on my coat and scarf and headed toward the department stores.

I couldn't believe how strange my day's events had become. Never in my wildest dreams would I have thought this would be happening to me that day. In just a few short hours, I would be wrapping my arms around Callum confessing my own feelings for him. I wanted to kick myself for letting our situation get so out of hand, for not being forthright and for letting assumptions take over. And what if he doesn't want you anymore, Harper? A funny, prickling sensation crept up my neck but I shook it off. Surely, he still wants you. He left to get over you. The sensation never really left me as I walked the rest of my journey, scraping my hand over the back of my neck, frenziedly trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling away.

The department store was packed but I expected as much. As I admired a scarf on a mannequin, I froze in terror, thinking I'd seen John Bell walk across the marble flooring in front of me. My hand flew to my chest and my adrenaline started pumping. I ran quickly his direction to make sure.

"Jesus," I exhaled when I noticed it was just a man who looked like him. Get a hold of yourself, Harper. Therapist. Need to call a therapist when I get back home.

The rest of the shopping trip was a blur, I bought a sexy little sweater dress and leggings for Christmas day, an attempt to be a bit more feminine because the girls were starting to insist, a pair of orange leather gloves for Cherry because they seemed her style, and a few bobbles for the rest of our crew for Christmas. We all celebrated Christmas together on New Year's Eve for dinner, that way we could all take advantage of the after Christmas sales. We wanted to be generous but were broke. It was a nice little compromise. Half an hour had passed and I'd found nothing for Callum. I felt horrible, nothing stuck out to me.

When I'd given up, resigned to the fact that I'd have to show up with nothing, I passed by a table at the entrance I hadn't noticed coming in. On it, was real live mistletoe wrapped in a fancy box.

Merry Christmas, Callum Tate.

Chapter Eighteen.

Teardrop Harper When I got home from shopping, I rode the elevator still trying to shake the uncomfortable feeling in my gut. It's just nerves, Harper. When I opened my door, a small white card fell at my feet. It must have been wedged between the jamb and door. I bent to pick it up and noticed the words, 'Call me ASAP', written in hard blue pen strokes. I flipped it over and read that it was the card of Detective Carson at the NYPD. But I had no way to call him because my cell was with them most likely and, to be honest, I wanted nothing to do with the possibility they'd want to interrogate me for another four hours, making me miss my flight. I promised myself I'd call them in Seattle and let them know they could question me after the holidays. John Bell wasn't going to take up any more of my time for at least a couple of days, not if I had anything to do with it.

I stuffed the card in the back pocket of my jeans and let the thought of John Bell seep further into the recess of my brain's 'don't even go there right now, Harper' closet. I locked down the apartment, ran over to the Super's and let him know both Callum and I would be gone for a few days, made sure all the appliances were shut off, emptied the fridge of things that would grow three or more heads while we were gone and took out the trash. I deciding emptying my bladder would probably be best since the airport was probably crowded as hell and I'd rather not need to take a leak after waiting in a line full of women who'd been flying for hours and ready to plow me down if I so much as looked at them wrong. I gathered my bag, threw on my coat, locked the front door and I was on my way.

I took the LIRR, or Long Island Rail Road, from Penn Station to the Jamaica Hub and caught the Airtrain to JFK. It took closer to an hour because of how busy the day was but I got there with two hours to spare. I thought that would be sufficient until I checked my bag and was immediately greeted with the Security Check Point. Good God, the line was horrendous. I thought seriously for a moment about just turning around, convinced there'd be no way I'd get through in time. I cursed myself for dallying in the department store for so long.

The burning returned to the back of my neck again and I became seriously agitated. You'll get through. You'll get through. I kept turning behind me, rubbing my neck over and over, looking to see whose eyes were scorching through me.

"You okay?" The guy behind me asked. He was young, probably my age, well built, dark hair.

"Uh, yeah," I answered with a small smile.

"Nervous flyer?"

"Something like that," I said, turning back to face security.

But he kept at it. "Where ya' flying?" He asked me as I turned back around.

"Uh, Seattle."

"Really? Quite a long flight from JFK. I'm headed back home for Christmas. St. Louis. You going back to family?"

"You could say that," I grinned.

He laughed. "Something tells me there's a lot to that story."

I laughed with him. "Definitely." I proceeded to tell him the basics of my story, leaving out the really disturbing parts, no sense in scaring a stranger.

"Wow, that's...unbelievable." He hoisted his laptop bag higher on his shoulder, his face a mixture of disbelief. He realized how serious he'd become and fixed his expression. "So, you're married, huh?"

"Yup." I smiled.

"Good ones are always taken," he jested.

"You seem 'good' enough," I teased.

He smiled. "Thanks."

"Of course. So, this family of yours, what's it like?"

He laughed at my obvious attempt at making light of my depressing life story. "It's about as wonderful as you could possibly imagine. Granted, sometimes I'd like to strangle my sister but at other times I don't know what I'd do without her." He eyed me, squinting, and nodded his head. "I have a feeling you'll build quite an amazing family yourself there. All you need is time."

"Thank you. I think you may be right."

The Security Check Point was tedious. I had to place my lap top in its own container, unlace my ridiculous boots and place them in one as well, then stuff my purse and carry on through as well. I passed through the metal detector easily enough and went straight through to gather my stuff. My shoes were back on, lap top back in its bag but I had to wait a moment while they checked my carry on a little more thoroughly. I glanced down to see that my boots were laced properly and unhooked the hem of my jeans from the back of my right boot. When I glanced up, my breath caught in my throat.

I noticed in the reflection of the mirrored window in front of me, John Bell, bending to put his own shoes on. I spun around quickly but he wasn't there. Adrenaline pumped through my veins at an alarming rate. I admonished myself for torturing my heart the way I was. Keep it together, Harper, or they'll take you in for drug use or something.

"God, I have to call Detective Carson. I'm losing it," I whispered to myself.

One glance at the terminal clock told me I didn't have time for that. I'd have to call when I arrived in Seattle. I arrived at my gate just as they were calling for all remaining passengers. I huffed down the aisle to the very last row, where my assigned seat was, stuffed my carry on above me and plopped in the window seat. I listened to the flight attendants ready to close the plane's door as I settled in for the not so comfortable six hour flight ahead of me.

I almost laughed at loud when I noticed that every seat was full yet the seat next to me was vacant. What luck!

Just when I thought they were closing the doors, the attendant whipped it back open for a moment to let the last minute straggler board the plane. Damn, there goes my luck. I grabbed my laptop bag and purse from the seat beside me and began shoving it under the seat in front of me.

"Thank you, miss," the passenger said to the flight attendant as I removed the iPod Callum got me for my birthday last year from my bag. I stuck the buds in my ears, closed my eyes and rested my head against the pane.

The passenger beside me settled his ginormous body next to mine and I almost groaned out loud. The plane's engine roared to life and I was suddenly in a much better mood. I was going to see Callum! As we prepared for take-off, I felt a tap on my shoulder. The flight attendant had to lean forward, the engine was so loud.

"I'm sorry, miss! All electronic items must be turned off for takeoff."

I nodded and apologized with my expression. She stood and started walking away as I glanced down at my seat belt and made sure it was buckled.

"Flight attendants, prepare for takeoff," the captain came over the intercom.

The last thing I wanted was to get in more trouble. I'd be flagged by the National Guard as an uncooperative passenger. I started to laugh at my own little joke as the plane positioned itself on the run way for takeoff but the chuckle died in my throat when I saw who the late passenger sitting beside me was.

"Jesus!" I yelled, propelling myself against the window, but no one could hear me over the rumble of the engine.

John Bell.

He was smiling. An evil, wicked, demented smile. Tears came of their own accord and I began to shake, squeezing my eyes shut, then opening them to see if he was real. And he was. Very real. I opened my mouth to scream and struggled to remove my belt but he clamped his hand hard over my mouth.

He leaned in closely to my ear. "One peep and I'll strangle you to death. Believe me, no one will notice." He kept his hand over my mouth and waited for me to respond. Salty tears clouded my view but I nodded as best I could despite the fact he was pressing me hard against the hard plastic of the interior plane wall.

He slowly released his grip on my mouth. I tried to catch any sort of eye contact with any passenger around me but they were all too focused on the impending take off.

"Good girl," he said, leaning in closely to my ear again. I shuddered in response.

He leaned back and studied me, making sure I'd remain quiet. My eyes searched his face.

"I escaped," he excitedly told me. Though I hated myself for wanting to know, my eyes asked how and he continued. "I head butted the officer transferring me from the patrol car to the jail and ran. They didn't stand a chance."

That's why Detective Carson wanted me to call him so urgently. I felt like such an imbecile. I should have known something like this would happen to me. This was my luck. My shitty, awful luck.

"Sweetheart," John said, running his meaty hands down the sides of my face. It was revolting and made me gag but I steeled myself. "Now we can be together." He kissed me hard against the mouth, smashing his wet mouth against mine. He dug his tongue through my tightly lined lips and almost choked me. He pulled away, nipping me with his teeth a little. "How many times will it take for you to learn, Harper?" He admonished. "You belong to me."

He grabbed my hand and squeezed it between his fingers. I turned my head away and began to tremble. This angered him, I could tell, because his grip tightened uncomfortably before releasing me. He grabbed the back of my neck harshly and pulled me toward him.

"Do you know that I know where Callum is right now?" He asked. I shook my head. "Ames is his uncle, right?" I didn't answer. "That's right. I know everything, Harper. In fact, I have many things planned for both your asshole husband and his uncle. I'm going to show you, actually. Right after I remind you of why you're mine."

I knew now what I needed to do and thought to try the only thing I could think to save John from hurting anymore people in my life.

"You win," I said, swallowing hard as the plane began to level off.

John seemed surprised. "Excuse me?"

"You win," I repeated after the captain removed the 'fasten seatbelt' sign. "I will do whatever you want. I'll be with you forever and do it willingly just as long as you don't hurt Callum or Ames." I knew it was idiotic. It was my attempt at being reasonable with the unreasonable. It never works. Never. But it was the only bargaining chip I had.

And it seemed to intrigue John. "Willingly?" His perversely handsome face said, amused. I nodded sharply once. His hand worked up my jean clad thigh. "Prove it."