Chapter Eighty Six - A Familiar Place

The night wrapped around them like a heavy cloak as Cody's car pulled up the gravel driveway, the tires crunching softly against scattered stones. The house loomed quietly beneath the faint glow of a lone porch light, its soft yellow halo spilling onto the steps and casting long, wavering shadows. The scent of damp earth mingled with a distant hint of wood smoke, carried by a chill breeze that stirred the dry leaves piled along the edges of the path.

Millie sat behind the wheel of her own car, her breath visible in the warm air as she exhaled slowly. Her eyes were tired but alert, flickering between the dim street and the still form of Harper beside her. Harper's head rested heavily against the passenger seat window, her breathing slow and uneven, lost in a fragile, fractured sleep.

Cody opened the door quietly and stepped out, the soles of his shoes pressing softly onto the cold concrete. Without hesitation, he reached into the car and gently lifted Harper into his arms. She felt lighter than he expected, her small frame limp and fragile, like a broken doll. Millie followed, pulling her coat tighter as the wind tugged at her hair.

They walked up the porch steps with slow, measured steps, the wood creaking faintly beneath their weight. Cody's hand hovered just before the door, fingers curling into a hesitant fist before he rapped sharply against the wood—three solid knocks cutting through the thick silence of the night.

The door swung open almost immediately, revealing Aunt Julia. Her face was sharp in the porch light, brows knitting together in confusion and alarm as her eyes took in the two teens and the limp figure cradled in Cody's arms.

"Cody? What the hell are you doing here at this hour?" Her voice was low but edged with urgency, a flicker of concern breaking through her usual composure.

Cody's throat tightened, and his voice came out rough, barely controlled. "Aunt Julia... I don't know where else to go."

Julia's eyes darted between him and Harper. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

Slowly, Cody stepped aside, cradling Harper carefully as if she might shatter at any moment. Julia's gaze fell on Harper's pale face, peaceful now but ghostly in the dim light. Her lips parted, breath catching in surprise.

"Harper?" she whispered, the word fragile, almost disbelieving. 

Millie stepped inside behind them, the door closing softly but firmly against the night. "She ran away." Millie said quietly, her voice steady but low. 

"I found her out on Route 4. She was... not herself. She was having some sort of a manic episode—shaking, terrified."

Julia's expression tightened, worry and helplessness pooling in her eyes. She moved quickly, crossing to the living room and gathering a thick woollen blanket from the back of the couch. Gently, she draped it over Harper, who stirred but didn't wake, curling her fingers slightly under the warmth.

For a long moment, Julia just sat beside Harper, watching her chest rise and fall in slow, shallow breaths—her protector once again, holding vigil in the quiet house.

Once she was sure Harper was asleep, Julia rose and led Cody into the kitchen, the air heavy with unspoken fears. She shut the door behind them, leaning against the cool frame as she exhaled sharply.

"Codes.." she began, voice low, trembling with frustration and care. "What the hell is going on? Why is Harper here? Why wasn't I told?"

Cody ran a hand through his hair, eyes darkening with exhaustion and something deeper—pain, guilt, helplessness. 

"She's... she's not okay, Julia. I thought she was better. My parents said Warren was helping her, that she was improving. But tonight. She ran away."

Julia's jaw tightened, her gaze sharp but softening with understanding. "This isn't just a bad night. This is serious. If she's running, if she's scared... we have to do more than wait for her to come back."

"I don't know what else to do." Cody admitted, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I just wanted to get her somewhere safe. Somewhere familiar."

Julia stepped closer, reaching out to squeeze his arm—a small gesture of solidarity in the storm of uncertainty. "Leave her with me, okay?"

They stood there in the dim kitchen light, the quiet hum of the night outside contrasting the turmoil within. Two people, bound by worry and love, bracing for what would come next.

The street was quiet, the moon hanging low and heavy in the sky as Cody and Millie stepped away from Aunt Julia's door. The faint hum of late-night city sounds—distant cars, a dog barking—drifted through the cool air, but the weight pressing on them felt heavier than the silence around them.

Cody glanced back once, the porch light casting long shadows over the threshold where Harper lay asleep on the worn sofa inside. Julia had always been kind, letting them leave Harper in her care without questions, though her eyes had held an unmistakable trace of worry.

They moved slowly toward their cars, the night suddenly feeling colder than before. Cody pulled his jacket tighter around himself and exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. "There's something else." he said hesitantly, voice low and uneven. 

"Aura found a gun under Harper's bed a while ago. The cops also found it when searching our house.. I think they think Harper did something. She told them during questioning she was going to use it on herself.."

Millie stopped in her tracks, turning to face him fully. The words hung heavily between them, settling like an unwelcome chill. Cody swallowed hard, his gaze searching Millie's face as if hoping she could make sense of it all. 

"Aura asked me if I thought Harper could've... you know. Could she have done something to Grandma? Maybe... with the gun..." His voice faltered on the last word, dark eyes betraying the storm of fear and doubt swirling inside.

"Do you think she could've done something?"

Millie shook her head firmly, stepping closer so the chill between them felt less sharp, her voice steady despite the worry flickering in her eyes. 

"If I know Harper at all—and I really think I do—she's not capable of that." She reached out gently, brushing a stray lock of hair from Cody's forehead. 

"Harper isn't violent. She's broken. Struggling and really fucking scared... but not a killer. Not ever." Her hand lingered on his cheek for a moment, warm and grounding. 

"You know what she is though? Fragile. Lost. Panicked. And right now, that's the part of her we need to hold on to. And to be honest, after everything your grandma put her through I wouldn't be surprised if she did do something."

Cody's shoulders sagged as if a little of his burden had lifted. He let out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair. 

"What if we're wrong? What if there's something in her she hasn't told us?" His voice dropped to a whisper, filled with a raw vulnerability.

Millie's fingers intertwined with his, her grip firm and reassuring. "Then we'll face it. But don't let fear write the story before we even know the truth yet." Her eyes met his, steady and unwavering, and a fragile hope kindled between them.

He looked at her—the person who had always been there, his childhood sweetheart, his first and only love—and felt a warmth spread through his chest that he hadn't realised he needed. 

"Thanks." he whispered.

"For what?" Millie asked softly, her voice barely louder than the night.

"For being here. For knowing her when we sometimes don't."

They stood in silence, the distant neon glow of a nearby street sign casting a soft light over their faces. The warm air bit at their skin, but the space between them was warm and alive. Their fingers stayed locked, and in that quiet moment, they were no longer just two people left to carry a fragile burden—they were each other's anchor in the storm, ready to face whatever came next.