Harper's forehead bumped lightly against the wall, jolting her awake. She pushed herself up and glanced around the small hospital room. Josh was slumped across a couple of plastic chairs on the other side of Layla's bed, and he stirred slightly. Harper eased her legs off the cushioned bench she lay on, groaning slightly at the forming knot that pinched her neck. Her hand rubbed the spot in an effort to dull the ache. No such luck.

She'd spent yet another night in the hospital, sleeping on that decrepit bench. Of course, it was a cheap hospital bench, so there's bound to be no support. Harper outstretched her arms. She'd survived another night. And, coincidentally, so did little Henry James. The nurses had said last night that if Layla was feeling up to it today, she could go down to the NICU to see him. But Harper knew Layla wouldn't be moving for at least another day.

Just then, her phone buzzed violently in her pocket, rattling the bench. Her hands dove into her pocket and fished it out, quickly getting up and moving just outside the room. She pressed answer. "Hello?" She rubbed her right eye while she waited for a response, fighting a yawn. "Harper, it's Steve," Steve said, on the other end. He, unlike Harper, didn't sound groggy at all. He sounded neutral. Harper leaned her back into the wall, crossing her arms. "Hey. What's up?" she asked.

"First, good morning," he said, a small smile evident in his voice.

Harper smiled a little. "Good morning."

"Second, I have some news about the case," he continued. Harper stood upright a little, waiting for him to go on, anticipating his next words. "We brought in Adam Kent—the guy Bryan told us about—and he said we should have a chat with Andrew Delle. Does that name sound familiar at all?"

Harper shook her head, though he couldn't see it. "No. Should it?" she asked.

"He says he knows you and Bryan, but he won't tell us how," Steve said, sounding a bit annoyed about the last bit. Harper's eyebrows furrowed, a sign of her confusion. Why would someone she'd never heard of before say they knew her? He was obviously connected to the fights. But Harper was only present for two. Maybe he was a spectator? "You absolutely don't have to, but is there any way you can get away from the hospital to come down to headquarters?"

She glanced over her shoulder at Layla, through the window. Then she turned back forward. "I don't know…I'll see if I can this afternoon," she answered.

"Okay. How are you holding up?" Steve asked. Harper paused, thinking about the question. How was she doing? Layla's words have been on her mind all night, partially keeping her from sleeping. It weighed on her heavily. But she didn't know quite how to phrase it to Steve. "Fine, considering," she said, with a mild shrug. "How are you doing? Punched any guys in the face yet?"

Steve huffed a chuckle at her words. "No, I haven't. But I'm about to do something I probably shouldn't with this guy in Interrogation."

"Sweet! I'll bring the popcorn, Danny can get the lawn chairs—we'll make a day of it," Harper commented, full of sarcasm. Steve laughed, shaking his head. Harper checked the clock on her phone, then put it back to her ear. "The nurses should be by any minute."

"Okay. I'll talk to you later. I love you."

"I love you, too. Bye." Harper slid away her cell phone just as the nurse started down the hall toward Layla's room. She smiled at her politely as she neared. "Good morning," the nurse said, stopping at Layla's door.

Harper nodded. "Good morning."

"How's our girl doing this morning?" the nurse asked. Harper followed the nurse into the room before answering. "She hasn't woken up yet," Harper said. She moved over beside Josh and gave his shoulder a shove. He instantly sat up, pretending to be awake already. "Wha- yeah? I'm awake," he said, blinking his eyes open fully.

Steve sighed, hanging up with Harper. Bryan readjusted his stance in front of Steve's desk, sliding his hands in his pockets, eyeing Steve with an observant look. "She seem off?" Bryan asked, with a knowing undertone. Steve nodded once, looking down at the folders on his desk.

Bryan sighed, sitting in his chair, across the desk from Steve. "There's always something," Steve said, shaking his head. "Always something she's hiding—something she refuses to tell me."

"What do you think she's hiding?" Bryan questioned.

"I don't know...first it was her criminal record, then it was her abuse. Then it was her medical issues, and now it's something I have no clue as to what it could be," Steve vented. "I feel like I can't get through. I can't get ahead of it. There's always a reason for her to be anything but happy. Always." Bryan thought, unmoved by Steve's words.

He'd expected no less from Harper. He knew exactly what was going on, what she needed to do to fix it. But it was something Harper would never attempt. He exhaled through his nostrils and readjusted his position in the chair. "You think it's intentional," Bryan assumed.

"It's starting to seem like it," Steve shrugged.

"Have you tried asking her about it?" Now Steve thought. No, he hadn't. But there were several times he'd tried to talk to Harper about various things, and she completely shut off. He never got an answer or an alternative way of thinking. Something to make him see it differently. He shook his head. "No," he answered.

"Well, if you could do one thing to try and fix everything, what would it be?" Bryan asked.

"I'd put her on a plane to Florida," Steve replied, almost instantly.

"Florida?" Bryan raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah, her mother's in the hospital there. I guess she wants to meet Harper before she dies. It might...I don't know...it might give her some closure." It was a nice thought, but Steve knew the closure Harper would receive from the trip wouldn't be enough to fix everything. She needed something Steve couldn't give her. For Steve, it was saddening. He wanted nothing more than to wrap her up in his arms and make it all go away. But he couldn't seem to fix anything for her.

Bryan sighed lightly. "Steve, I think you have it a bit backwards. Yes it would give her closure. But she has to want it. She has to want to be saved and want to close all the open doors that are causing her pain. You can't force someone to get better, and you can't force them to forgive and forget."

"Then what am I supposed to do?" Steve questioned, his voice rising in frustration.

"Be there for her. Encourage her. Let her cry when she needs to. It's a long road, Steve. And, no matter how impossible it looks, you just have to stay with her. She'll be ready in time, but it's not gonna happen right away," Bryan said, his tone calm and even. Steve nodded while Bryan spoke, taking the words to heart. "Just be patient, and keep an open mind. And remember not to push."

Harper worked it out with Josh so that she could slip away for a few hours. So she drove home for the first time in at least three days. Harper had stopped counting now. She parked her van in the parking space in front of her door and cut the engine, sitting a moment. She closed her eyes and took a breath, and then she pushed out of her van and started for the front door. Her hands fumbled with the keys a second but she got the door unlocked.

It was odd to open the door and not get crushed by a rampaging, tail wagging Darcy. It was almost saddening. And, in her already glum state, it was only making matters worse. But she powered through and headed into her bedroom, making a b-line for the bathroom. A hot shower was the one thing on her mind. She'd gone without one for far too long and, frankly, she was starting to smell like antiseptic. Not in a good way, either. So she put on the hot water.

She peeled off her articles of clothing one by one, then paused. Something caught her eye as she turned. She faced the mirror and her eyes trailed down to the thin white line marring her naturally tan skin, mere inches from her naval. Her fingers danced over it absentmindedly and all she could see was how she got the scar. A sputter in the shower water made her body jolt in a startle. She pushed it to the far end of her mind and stepped in under the hot water.

After showering, she dressed in a casual outfit that maximized comfort. She dried and brushed out her blonde hair next. It was getting much longer than she normally keeps it. Her mind rambled through different styling ideas or different ways she could wear the shirt she had chosen. But her heart was stuck on Florida. The idea of it was like an led weight on her chest, threatening to crush her if she didn't make a decision. She wanted to go. She truly did. But she didn't want to leave Steve.

He made her feel safe, made her feel loved. He gave her a reason to keep waking up every morning. And though she wouldn't be gone long, the short time they would spend apart would be difficult. That and she would have to speak to her birth mother—the woman that abandoned her on the doorstep of a church twenty-nine years ago. Layla's sixteen and pregnant story was believable, but the excuse was hard to justify in her mind. She needed a reason.

A bonafide this is why I left you reason. Unable to care for her was a reason. It just didn't feel like enough. Her heart was still searching for a better reason. Something like I didn't want you—something that meant she wasn't good enough. Any other reason didn't feel right.