me. God, I want her. I want to be her everything. “Do you?”
She says nothing. Just chews her lip, and watches me.
I lean closer, and rest my hand on hers, the first time I’ve touched her in five years. She feels warm and magnetic, my hand more alive than any other part of my body, my fingers tingling. I put everything I have into it when I say, “So then lie to me, Lo.”
She doesn’t move her hand.
She almost looks like she’s going to cry.
And then we’re interrupted, some woman coming in behind Harlow, penciled on eyebrows raised to the sky, saying, “Harlow, everything ok?”
Harlow snatches her hand back like she needs to keep it safe, rubbing the skin where I touched her. “It’s cool, Shantha. Just someone I used to know.”
That was for my benefit. Yeah. That’s ok. I’ll be someone she knows again. I nod at this woman called Shantha, who’s looking at me like I might be a criminal, and reach over to grab some napkins. I write my phone number down in big black letters, because I know Harlow deleted my number a long time ago, and give it back to her, folded up.
“Think about it, Lo,” I say, knowing she won’t be able to resist in the end. Even if she didn’t need house repairs, even if it weren’t for the way she needs to be the best mother Dill never had, she wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to make me pay, to make me tell her the one thing I can’t tell her—why I left. She’s going to torture me, especially when she finds out I won’t tell her. I’ll deserve all of it.
I hold onto the napkin one second too long, making her look back up at me, just so I can say this: “I’m not going anywhere.”
When I walk out of there, it’s with the knowledge that I’m walking on the razor’s edge. Alex Wolfe and everything he’s capable of on one side. The love of my life on the other.
chapter 5
HARLOW
I only lasted about half an hour after Marcus left before Shantha sent me home from the bar.
“You’re useless.” She smiled at me.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“Go home, get some sleep. Or call that unbelievable hunk of man and don’t get some sleep, whatever works.”
I had to try to force a smile. Shantha saw through it. But she didn’t pry, because Shantha’s always looking out for me, just hugged me and sent me on my way.
Which is why I’m home early with nothing to do but think about Marcus’s offer.
And think about Marcus himself.
Seeing him up close, talking to him—it feels like I’ve been drugged. My head is swimming in memories of Marcus, in sensations of Marcus, and it’s outrageously unfair because what I should be thinking about is how I’m supposed to provide for Dill. And about how I’m evidently failing at that.
I made myself a promise when I got custody: I would not touch our inheritance except for medical emergencies or similar, because otherwise it would be gone way too soon, and it’s not like I had a lot of career prospects at the time. I still don’t. You make decent money bartending at some places, but one, I don’t work at those places, and two, I don’t pick up enough shifts, since I want to be home when Dill is at least some of the time.
So we get by, and my life is made immeasurably easier knowing we have a cushion in case disaster strikes again, but I will not break those rules. I will not.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it, though, before Marcus’s offer.
Marcus. I thought I almost caught his scent when he leaned across the bar to get close to me. It made my heart stop.
I shake my head and pry the bottle cap off a beer, expertly hitting the garbage can on the other side of the kitchen. Dill’s asleep, has been for a few hours. The house is quiet. I kick off my shoes, take a swig of my beer, and head to the master bath.
I never moved into my parents’ master bedroom when I took possession of the house. Just couldn’t do it. So I’m still in my old room, and Dill’s in his. That
She says nothing. Just chews her lip, and watches me.
I lean closer, and rest my hand on hers, the first time I’ve touched her in five years. She feels warm and magnetic, my hand more alive than any other part of my body, my fingers tingling. I put everything I have into it when I say, “So then lie to me, Lo.”
She doesn’t move her hand.
She almost looks like she’s going to cry.
And then we’re interrupted, some woman coming in behind Harlow, penciled on eyebrows raised to the sky, saying, “Harlow, everything ok?”
Harlow snatches her hand back like she needs to keep it safe, rubbing the skin where I touched her. “It’s cool, Shantha. Just someone I used to know.”
That was for my benefit. Yeah. That’s ok. I’ll be someone she knows again. I nod at this woman called Shantha, who’s looking at me like I might be a criminal, and reach over to grab some napkins. I write my phone number down in big black letters, because I know Harlow deleted my number a long time ago, and give it back to her, folded up.
“Think about it, Lo,” I say, knowing she won’t be able to resist in the end. Even if she didn’t need house repairs, even if it weren’t for the way she needs to be the best mother Dill never had, she wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity to make me pay, to make me tell her the one thing I can’t tell her—why I left. She’s going to torture me, especially when she finds out I won’t tell her. I’ll deserve all of it.
I hold onto the napkin one second too long, making her look back up at me, just so I can say this: “I’m not going anywhere.”
When I walk out of there, it’s with the knowledge that I’m walking on the razor’s edge. Alex Wolfe and everything he’s capable of on one side. The love of my life on the other.
chapter 5
HARLOW
I only lasted about half an hour after Marcus left before Shantha sent me home from the bar.
“You’re useless.” She smiled at me.
“I’m sorry, I just—”
“Go home, get some sleep. Or call that unbelievable hunk of man and don’t get some sleep, whatever works.”
I had to try to force a smile. Shantha saw through it. But she didn’t pry, because Shantha’s always looking out for me, just hugged me and sent me on my way.
Which is why I’m home early with nothing to do but think about Marcus’s offer.
And think about Marcus himself.
Seeing him up close, talking to him—it feels like I’ve been drugged. My head is swimming in memories of Marcus, in sensations of Marcus, and it’s outrageously unfair because what I should be thinking about is how I’m supposed to provide for Dill. And about how I’m evidently failing at that.
I made myself a promise when I got custody: I would not touch our inheritance except for medical emergencies or similar, because otherwise it would be gone way too soon, and it’s not like I had a lot of career prospects at the time. I still don’t. You make decent money bartending at some places, but one, I don’t work at those places, and two, I don’t pick up enough shifts, since I want to be home when Dill is at least some of the time.
So we get by, and my life is made immeasurably easier knowing we have a cushion in case disaster strikes again, but I will not break those rules. I will not.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t thinking about it, though, before Marcus’s offer.
Marcus. I thought I almost caught his scent when he leaned across the bar to get close to me. It made my heart stop.
I shake my head and pry the bottle cap off a beer, expertly hitting the garbage can on the other side of the kitchen. Dill’s asleep, has been for a few hours. The house is quiet. I kick off my shoes, take a swig of my beer, and head to the master bath.
I never moved into my parents’ master bedroom when I took possession of the house. Just couldn’t do it. So I’m still in my old room, and Dill’s in his. That
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