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Our parents bought us a minivan ready for Harvey’s release. They modified the car to fit his needs so he can ride in it with his chair, yet it wasn’t modified for him to drive.
His parents are picking him up with our new van and bringing him here for a dinner with both our families.
I’ve spent the rest of the day tidying up Harvey’s room to ensure it’s as perfect as can be. Hen and I set up his PlayStation, hoping it can help him cope for a few weeks.
For the dinner, I wear ripped jeans with an emerald T-shirt, my face covered in light bronzer, mascara, and lip gloss.
I stare at myself in the mirror of our new home, breathing to settle my nerves. To push them down as deeply as I can, knowing they won’t vanish.
Harvey’s coming home.
We can do this.
I wipe my palms on the sides of my hips when I hear a car. The fresh summer breeze enters Harvey’s room since I left a crack in the window all day. The front door shuts with a loud thud, and I see Henrik waiting for Harv, who’s wheeling down the ramp from the center of the van.
Perhaps one day he’ll be able to transfer from his chair to a car seat by himself. Though I don’t want to pressure him with my knowledge from YouTube videos.
A certain peace washes over me as I set my eyes on him again. He looks physically drained, and he lost weight. Instead, I focus on the beauty of his eyes and the disheveled hair I always loved playing with.
This is what I’ve been waiting for. This is what home feels like. This feeling is the reason people write poetry in the first place.
I just want him to have hope.
“Am I gonna have to push you around everywhere now like a little bitch?” Henrik teases. Leave it to Henrik to say the proper thing. My body rejoices when I hear Harvey chuckle, my smile widening at the sound.
“Fuck you, Hen,” he replies.
Their parents come in through the front door while I focus solely on the brothers talking. This is borderline stalking, but I don’t care. I need a second to take him in before I greet him.
“It doesn’t have to be all that bad.” Henrik takes out the same joint from his pocket and twirls it continuously with his fingers.
Harv remains silent, then wheels himself forward.
“Wait—” Hen halts his movements. “No one can everunderstand what you’re going through, but don’t forget the ones who love you, Harv.”
I see Harvey nod, and his face tightens with each of his brother’s words.
“And the hot chick you share this home with.” Henrik uses his joint to point to the house.
“Stalker.” Gia scares the daylight out of me. She laughs when she comes into the room, finding me by the window. “Do you want me to tell him to come see you before we eat?”
I smile.
Gia always knows what I want, what I need, without so much as a word from my mouth. She truly is sent from above.
“Yeah, sure.” I clear my throat. “Sure.”
I sit on the lowered bed and wait a few minutes, putting my hair behind my ear on one side. It’s as if I wait forever until finally the light of my life wheels himself in like he’s done so a million times.
He should be staring at his new room—the one that doesn’t include me in it—but instead, his eyes catch mine, lighting me on fire, only I have a feeling he won’t be there to stop the flames from intoxicating me.
Because he’ll be the one doing the burning.
“Hey . . .” I whisper.
He’s so gorgeous it hurts to watch. I want him to know, Ineedhim to know, how fuckable he looks in a wheelchair. God, his straight blond hair, tousled all over the place, his light blue eyes that are enough to hypnotize.
And his smirk? Hormone hijacker, that’s what that is. I wish to see it again someday.
