Off The Record Ch. 21

Now, I know what you're thinking--why won't they just fucking talk to each other?!?

Because I love torturing you lovely people (and myself), that's why 💋

Enjoy <3

Please continue to rate and comment--seeing your thoughts about each chapter makes my day :)

All characters are over 18.

***

Morgan was slowly losing her mind, inching closer and closer to a mental breakdown with every second that passed that Harper didn't answer the text message she'd sent her asking to see her later this week. According to their thread, she hadn't read it yet, but it was still nagging at Morgan, driving her insane.

It had gotten so bad that Morgan had forced herself to leave her phone in her bedroom while she did chores around the house so that she didn't obsess over every notification she received. That had lasted for all of an hour before she caved and came back to check her messages, which was why she was now lying on her bed, wondering for about the millionth time what could have gone so wrong between them in a matter of days.

They hadn't seen each other in person in a week. Over the past few months, they'd rarely gone more than three or four days without meeting up, even if it was only for a quick work-related issue.

The inkling that something was wrong had been further solidified three days ago when Harper had sent her a list of questions by email for a remote interview rather than seeing her in person, and when Morgan had offered to host Harper at her apartment instead, she had brushed it off, saying that she didn't want to impose while Morgan recovered and that she should take her time answering the questions rather than be forced to answer them immediately during a live interview.

Morgan knew for a fact that Harper hated any type of interview that didn't occur face-to-face.

There was only one logical conclusion that Morgan could draw based on all of the combined facts, and that was that Harper was avoiding her.

And for the life of her, Morgan couldn't piece together what had caused such an abrupt change in Harper's behavior.

Was this past weekend too much? Had Harper felt obligated to stay at Morgan's apartment longer than she'd wanted to? Had her two encounters with Maeve, both of which were entirely unexpected, sent her into a panic? Considering the fact that Harper had been willing to allow Morgan to meet Cam relatively early on in their relationship, she didn't think that was likely. And everything about Harper's demeanor had suggested that she was more than happy to hang out for a few days.

When at her deepest point down the rabbit hole, Morgan had even considered the unlikely possibility that someone, namely Angela or her hired dog, had gotten to her--had threatened her with photographs or some other type of compromising information that had caused her to withdraw. But if that had happened, Morgan would have been threatened, too.

Fucking Christ, she was going to have an aneurysm trying to figure this woman out. For all of Harper's skill in being able to tell Morgan exactly what she wanted or needed, she really wished that this was a time that she employed that very useful ability.

It was a good thing Morgan hadn't had to focus on the trial this week while she recovered, because she was positive she would have been entirely useless to her team and to her client. Her mind was going in a thousand different directions, but all roads led back to her thoughts about Harper.

And all she'd been able to do, without work to distract her, was sit at home and dwell on the sick feeling in her stomach and the voice in her head that was screaming at her to do something--to talk to Harper before it was too late.

Morgan felt a tear escape, one of many that she'd shed the past few lonely nights, and she wiped it away before it could roll down her cheek.

She raised her head and took a deep breath, trying in vain to blink back more tears that were threatening to spill over.

As she did so, her eyes caught on the Stanford crewneck that was draped over the chair in front of her vanity. She sat up a little straighter, her gaze burning a hole into the maroon fabric.

A lightbulb went off in her head.

The fucking sweatshirt.

That had to be it. Sure, Harper had been awkward when Maeve had shown up on Sunday, but Morgan had noticed the major change in her when they'd said goodbye, after their conversation in the bedroom.

At some point between the time Morgan had left Harper alone in her bedroom and when she'd walked her to the door, Harper had made the conscious decision to leave the sweatshirt that Morgan had all but begged her to take with her.

Morgan's head dropped into her hands, fresh tears rising to the surface. Maybe Harper didn't want more with her, and that was why she'd left it--because she knew that taking it broke another wall down between them.

She needed to talk to her, and she needed it to be in person, so that she could read her facial expressions and her body language.

Morgan wasn't in the right mental state to drive a vehicle right now, but she could walk. Anything was better than sitting here, miserable and listless, while she felt each little piece of her heart break off, shattering slowly in her chest.

Snatching the crewneck off the chair, Morgan left her bedroom and all but ran out of her apartment and into the chilly night air.

She hadn't considered the weather when she left her apartment, but she was too numb to care about the icy rain that was coming down in sheets, soaking her through the thin sweater she'd been wearing.

It was a short walk, anyway, and the cold kept her focused on her goal. She couldn't carry on like this, not knowing what Harper was thinking.

When she got to Harper's apartment, she rapped her knuckles against the door hard, three sharp strikes that reverberated through the empty hallway.

She knew Harper was home. She always got back from the gym by eight o'clock at the latest, and there was no way that she was--

The door flew open, revealing a freshly showered Harper, her glasses settled snuggly on the bridge of her nose.

"Morgan? What are you doing here? Is everything okay?" Harper's immediate concern for her flooded Morgan with affection. She looked adorable in her plaid pajama pants and a band T-shirt, and seeing her after so long almost cut through the anxiety and frustration that was bubbling dangerously close to the surface, threatening to boil over and overwhelm Morgan.

Almost.

"I told you to take this with you," Morgan said flatly, pushing the sweatshirt into Harper's chest as she walked past her into the apartment, not waiting for an official invitation.

She turned around in time to see a mix of emotions cross Harper's perfect face as she stared down at the crewneck in her hands. Confusion, sadness, pain, regret. Or were those just the things that Morgan was feeling herself? She wasn't exactly stable enough to be judging other people's emotions right now.

Harper's shoulders rose and fell with a deep breath before her hazel eyes lifted to meet Morgan's. They stared at each other, and Morgan felt like the energy in the space between them might electrocute her.

But then Harper's intense gaze roamed over the rest of her, eyebrows narrowing as she took in Morgan's presumably haggard appearance. She assumed she looked awful, given that the doorman had thrown her a strange look when she'd entered the apartment building.

"Did you walk here? Why are you wet?" She came closer, the crewneck forgotten as she draped it over her arm. "Have you been crying?" She asked gently, her hands coming up to frame her face, not actually touching her. Morgan watched her swallow hard before lowering her hands and clasping them in front of her.

That nauseating feeling in her stomach grew, because what the fuck was that? When had Harper ever held back from touching her before?

Morgan masked the hurt that cut through her with a sharp laugh that held no humor. "That's a lot of questions, Cassidy."

Harper searched her face silently before saying, "Come on. You can change into something dry and I can make us some coffee--"

"I don't want coffee, Harper," Morgan said, louder than she had intended. Harper shrank back and Morgan immediately felt guilty. She took a shaky breath, composing herself. "I want to know why you left that sweatshirt on my bed after I told you to take it with you before disappearing on me for a week." She pointed a trembling finger at the piece of clothing Harper was holding, the school logo mocking her from where it peeked out from the crook of her elbow.

"I just...I forgot it," Harper mumbled, unable to meet Morgan's eye.

"Don't lie to me," Morgan said harshly.

At that, Harper's gaze snapped up to hers. Any trace of discomfort and nervousness was gone, replaced by that blazing fire that Morgan loved so much. But she braced herself, because she had never been on the receiving end of it before.

She stepped right into Morgan's space, glaring up at her. The gold flecks in her eyes sparked like embers, burning brightly. "Do not talk to me like a lawyer. You know exactly why I left it there," she said in a low voice, punctuating her words with a finger jabbed firmly into Morgan's chest.

Morgan's stomach dropped, but she leaned down, bringing her face within a few inches of Harper's. "I need to hear you say it."

All at once, the reality of the situation crashed into Morgan. This was it--the conversation they'd been tip-toeing around for weeks, and it had the potential to bring Morgan either the greatest joy she'd ever known, or the most soul-crushing heartbreak of her life. She wasn't sure how she'd navigate either outcome.

Hazel eyes brimming with emotion stared up at her, burning through her to her very core.

And then Harper's shoulders slumped, the tension leaving her posture.

"I can't do this anymore," Harper whispered. The fight seemed to go out of her. She reached up and ran her fingertips along Morgan's jaw before letting her hand drop to her side. She exhaled and looked at the floor.

Morgan hooked a finger under her chin and eased her face up so she would look at her. Her chest constricted when she saw the tears welling in Harper's eyes. "Please talk to me," she said, using her thumbs to brush away the first tears that escaped.

Harper backed away and dashed at her cheeks. "What the fuck are we doing, Morgan?"

"What do you mean?" She asked, confused by her change in tone.

Harper started pacing. "I mean, what the actual fuck are we doing?" She didn't stop pacing, but her arms shot out wildly, gesturing between the two of them. She carded a hand through her loose hair. "Playing house at your apartment for three days, kissing each other casually as if it's becoming habit, calling each other pet names." She stared pointedly at Morgan at that last one. Harper took a deep breath. "Giving each other pieces of clothing to wear when we're not together."

"We can share clothing without it being a big deal," Morgan said weakly, knowing that it was a lame excuse. She wanted it to be a big deal. In fact, Morgan couldn't think of anything she wanted more than to see Harper wearing her Stanford crewneck permanently. But she didn't want to scare her away with that level of intensity, especially if that had been the catalyst for this week of torture they'd both endured.

Harper crossed her arms over her chest and scoffed. "Then why does it bother you so much that I left it at your apartment?"

Morgan opened her mouth and then closed it again. Check and mate. She and Harper both knew why Morgan had asked her to take it with her. And why Morgan had walked here in a rainstorm like a crazy person to confront her about it.

"I need more, Morgan," Harper said quietly. "I can't keep living in this bubble of perfection with you, constantly terrified that it's going to pop at any moment because of the trial or because of the pressure. I can't--" Harper broke off, her voice catching as she fought off more tears. She ran both hands through her hair, pausing to hold her head for a moment before she looked back up at Morgan.

"We can't sleep together anymore," Harper said abruptly, grimacing as if the words physically pained her to say. Her hands were splayed out over her abdomen, like she was going to be sick. "Not if...not if that's all it's ever going to be. Hidden behind closed doors."

The words hit Morgan like a bullet, ripping through her and nearly making her stumble. She reached out a hand to support herself against the wall.

What did she mean? Did she really think that Morgan only thought of this--of her-- as casual sex? That Morgan wouldn't be willing to sacrifice everything for her?

"You don't want to sleep together anymore?" she asked dumbly.

Morgan had tried her best to prepare herself for the possibility as she'd run through every worst case scenario in her head this past week, given the distance that Harper had put between them recently. But that didn't make hearing it any easier.

Harper sighed and gave her a sad smile. "Is that what I said?" She reached up and brushed a stray piece of hair behind Morgan's ear. "Of course I want to. But we're both going to end up getting hurt," she said, more tears threatening to spill over. "The longer that we're..." She caressed Morgan's cheek as her face crumpled, her emotions finally winning out over her composure.

Desperation seized Morgan in a way she'd never experienced before, except for maybe when everything was happening with Olivia. She didn't know what to do to fix this, but what she did know was that seeing Harper cry was agonizing and all she wanted was to help make it stop. She gripped Harper's hands with her own.

"Harper, baby, listen to me. The trial is almost over."

Harper was shaking her head before Morgan could even finish the sentence. "And then what? We live happily ever after?" The bitterness in Harper's voice stung even though she knew it wasn't directed at her. She stepped away and started pacing again. "Regardless of what happens with the trial, the public will always see us as the sleazy defense attorney who was sleeping with a journalist desperate for notoriety in some sort of fucked up quid pro quo agreement. We'll both be fired."

Morgan didn't think before she said her next words, because she didn't need to think about them. There wasn't even a question in her mind of what she had to do.

"Then I'll recuse myself."

Harper scoffed and waved dismissively as she paced, saying, "Don't be ridiculous."

"Don't you dare tell me that I'm being ridiculous." The steeliness in Morgan's voice stopped Harper in her tracks. She turned to look at her.

They stared at each other for a few silent moments, the air thick with tension. Finally, Harper said, "This case will make your career."

"Probably," Morgan said simply, taking a step closer to Harper.

Harper swallowed hard, seemingly tongue-tied for a moment before she found her voice. "You're going to win, Morgan. Do you realize that? You're--you're fucking brilliant and you've spent the better part of a year setting yourself up to win the case of the century. And you'd just throw it all away--the months of preparation, the hard work, getting physically attacked--for what?" Her voice cracked.

"For you," Morgan said, because it was the most obvious thing in the world. A calming peace settled over her, despite knowing that every word that was about to leave her mouth had the potential to change everything.

She stopped in front of Harper, looking down into tortured hazel eyes.

"Why?" Harper's voice was just above a whisper.

"Because, Cassidy," Morgan murmured, searching her face intently, "I'm in love with you." She cradled Harper's face in her hands, like she was the most precious thing Morgan had ever held. And she was. "I've been in love with you for months. And I would rather lose this case and my entire career than lose you. You're the only thing that matters."

Harper's breath hitched, staggering back a step. "Morgan, I--"

Morgan panicked. She wasn't sure what Harper was about to say, but if it was anything other than Harper confirming that she reciprocated her feelings, Morgan wasn't sure she could handle it, especially not in her current state.

"It's my fault," Morgan said, cutting her off.

"What?" Harper moved closer to her, reaching for her. "No, it isn't. We both--"

"It's all my fault," Morgan interrupted, her breath coming faster. "You asked me that night at the restaurant. If I still wanted you to be our journalist after we reconnected. And you asked me that because we were flirting and because it felt like we'd picked up right where we left off the night we met and you looked fucking perfect and I should have just told you to turn around and go home."

She knew that she was rambling and she wasn't sure when she'd started to cry but her cheeks were wet and she could barely see Harper through the tears blurring her vision.

"I was so arrogant and stupid and we could have just had dinner together and gotten to know each other and we wouldn't be in this situation." Her voice broke on a sob.

And then Harper's arms were around her, pulling her in tightly. Her calming voice murmured soft apologies and comforts in her ear as she ran her hands up and down her back soothingly.

She held her until Morgan's sobs subsided, until there were no other sounds except for Morgan's residual sniffling.

Harper eased backward out of the embrace, taking Morgan's face in her hands. Her thumbs brushed away her stray tears, her touch like a salve over Morgan's wounded heart.

Morgan stared at her hopelessly, emotionally exhausted and at a loss for what to say after word vomiting the feelings that she'd been burying in the deepest parts of herself for weeks.

Hazel eyes full of emotion looked up into hers, searching her gaze.

Morgan let out a shaky breath. She leaned down to rest her forehead against Harper's. "The universe gave me another chance to know you, and I royally fucked it up."

"You really didn't," Harper said.

Morgan smiled sadly at her. "How do you figure?"

"Because I love you too," Harper whispered. She brushed a wet strand of Morgan's hair back behind her ear.

Morgan's breath caught in her throat. "Really?"

Harper laughed wetly, finally gracing Morgan with a smile, albeit a watery one. "So much that I haven't been able to function for the last month." She cupped her jaw again. "We'll figure it out. But right now, we need to get you out of these wet clothes before you get hypothermia."

Relief flooded through Morgan, the wave of happiness she felt so powerful that she got lightheaded. "Okay," she said, grinning down at her.

Harper loved her too. And it sounded like she wanted to find a way through this together rather than break it off. They should have had this conversation ages ago. It killed her to know that Harper had been pulling away because she'd been terrified that Morgan would break her heart.

Morgan opened her mouth to speak but Harper pushed up onto her tip toes and connected their lips in a gentle kiss.

"Come on." Harper took her hand and led her to her bedroom.

***

Morgan was gorgeous when she slept.

A lot of people looked softer, more vulnerable, when they were asleep, but Morgan was simply angelic.

Harper admired her long, lush eyelashes where they rested against her sharp cheekbones, the lines of her face made more delicate by sleep. Harper sighed as she watched the steady rise and fall of her chest, savoring the peaceful quiet of the moment.

She really was so breathtakingly beautiful, and all of her loveliness made Harper want to swirl the flawless contours of her face and the dark, silken waves of her hair into poems.

Morgan looked so young, curled up on her side in Harper's bed, and Harper's stomach clenched at the memory of how emotional she'd been when she'd shown up at Harper's apartment late last night, her beautiful eyes red-rimmed and puffy from crying. It had been physically painful for Harper to see her like that, and the knowledge that she had been the cause of Morgan's tears was eating her up inside.

Report