18. Harrison
18
HARRISON
I park at the end of the row, not bothering with the valet.
The ceremony is over—the bride and groom are outside, taking pictures. Guests mill about, cocktails in hand. I cross the green expanse toward the vines and the bar, Rae’s phone in my grip.
None of the faces are hers.
A pair of women glances toward me, and their attention lingers as they freeze. Then one of the women grabs another passing by, drawing her in and whispering.
But I press forward toward the bar, where my gaze catches on a familiar profile. “Whelan.”
Zachary turns, and the man who holds my club’s future in his hands straightens his tailored suit. “Harrison.” His mouth curves. “And here I thought putting you on the calendar for this week would get you off my back.”
I extend a hand, and he takes it.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Friend of the groom.”
“Right. I recall my girlfriend saying she knew you. Raegan Madani,” I go on as I look past him, searching for her amidst the crowd.
When I turn back to the man in front of me, he’s transformed.
“This some kind of joke?” His voice is low, his lips thinning into a line.
I don’t answer. I’m too busy trying to figure out what could’ve happened to set him off in the space of a single breath.
Not even a breath. A name .
Rae’s name.
My body tenses. There’s something I’m missing, a piece just out of reach.
“Not a joke.” I’m bluffing but match his low tone.
I didn’t like this man the first time I met him, and that emotion is quickly seeping toward repulsion as he looks around furtively.
“Anything that happened was a long time ago, and it was between us.”
What the fuck?
“You’ve been around,” he goes on. “You know how it is. In college, you like to drink, experiment. Girls see an older guy they want…” He wets his lips. “It’s how rumors get started.”
The vineyard falls away, the world receding down to a point that’s Zachary, his reddening face and shifting eyes and expensive tux with the boutonnière.
When I speak, each word is soft. “Ah, yes. Those rumors.”
Sweat beads on his face. “It was Kian’s party.” His throat bobs. “She shouldn’t have even been there.”
In Miami, she said started making music in high school after she was raped, that her parents began fighting after something disrupted their family, ended up divorcing.
The way she doesn’t rely on anyone to look out for her. The identity she forged, the one that makes it easier for her to be free, to separate herself from someone who doesn’t have fears…
That’s why she didn’t want me here today. She knew he would be, or could be.
Zachary Whelan isn’t only the man responsible for the fate of my club.
He’s the man who raped my girlfriend.
People are watching us, recognizing me.
I don’t care. I step closer, fisting his lapel and leaning in until his awful cologne hits my nostrils.
“Say another word,” I mutter, “and I will break one of these wine bottles and castrate you in front of the bride and groom.”
His eyes widen in shock.
But before I can rip Whelan to shreds, a woman’s voice calls my name.
“Harrison!”
I turn, but it’s not my girlfriend. Though she’s physically similar and around the same age, this woman is taller, wearing a different dress, and the expression on her face is a warning as she looks between me and Whelan.
“Callie,” I guess, and she nods. “I’m in the middle of?—“
“I can’t find Rae anywhere.”
* * *
Rae
The cellar’s damp but comforting. Quiet and far enough from the rest of the party that no one will find me.
Except footsteps have me tensing, and dress shoes appear on the stairs.
I made it through the ceremony, focusing steadfastly on my brother and his beaming bride.
The moment it was done, before the recessional, I asked Callie to cover for me and snuck out.
I found my way down to a room with wine barrels and sank onto the floor. I don’t have a watch, so I can’t know how much time has passed.
The dress shoes’ owner descends.
I thought I could handle seeing family and old friends. I didn’t expect he would be here.
Making peace with your past is one thing. Sitting twenty feet from the man who assaulted you is a stretch.
When dark dress pants appear, followed by a belt and a pale blue shirt I personally picked out this morning, my chest eases.
The soft, yellow overhead light shines on Harrison’s hair as he emerges into the cellar.
“You came back.” My voice is rough.
He crosses the space between us and holds out something. “You left your phone in the car.”
My fingers close around it, the case cool and familiar.
“I ran into Whelan upstairs.”
Harrison’s fists clench at his sides. He shifts onto a barrel near where I’m sitting, easing back to stretch his legs. There’s a smudge of dirt on his pants, but if he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t let on. “Why is the man who assaulted you at your brother’s wedding?”
I swallow hard. “Kian didn’t know. I blamed him still, which wasn’t fair.”
“What happened to you wasn’t fair.”
“But I can’t control that. Forgiving my brother… I can do that.”
Each breath is a little easier with him here.
“You didn’t tell me it was Whelan because I need him to get the venue approved?”
I nod. “I didn’t want you to lose the project over it.”
With a heavy sigh, he shifts off the barrel and eases himself onto the dusty floor next to me. He’s anything but relaxed, and he’s obviously trying to fight whatever dark instincts are inside him.
After a moment’s hesitation, I lean my head against his shoulder and breathe him in. “Did you kill him?”
“Not yet. Would you like to watch?”
My exhale is half laugh and half sob. He takes my phone and sets it on the floor, threading his fingers through mine.
We sit like that for minutes. Maybe longer.
Finally, the device buzzes with a message from Callie.
Callie: I don’t know if you found your phone, but I’m not sure how else to find you. Where are you? Are you okay?
Callie: I lost track of you when the aunts cornered me after the ceremony. Did you bail?
Callie: Kian was looking for you, and I wasn’t sure what to tell him.
Callie: I ran into Harrison, who’s looking for you too. Keep an eye out for the beautiful blond man who looks like he’s going to rain down hellfire.
My mouth twitches. I reluctantly pull my hand from Harrison’s to type back. He caresses my knee as if unwilling to stop touching me.
I don’t hate it.
Rae: I’m okay. I needed some space, but I’m with Harrison. Tell Kian he did great.
“What I said earlier about you not being brave today… I was wrong. You’re the bravest woman I know.”
Harrison’s gaze locks with mine. In it is the compassion I didn’t know I needed.
Back when it happened, I didn’t have many people to talk to. The ones I did confide in made it seem like I put this problem on them. The ones I tried to hide it from acted as if my withdrawing from the activities I previously did was an act of selfishness.
Now, the man I care about is looking at me like there’s nothing wrong with me.
More than that, like there’s something admirable about me, in me.
My gaze drifts to one of the wine casks next to me. “Want to get drunk tonight?”
His lips tug up, his handsome face rueful as he rises to standing. He brushes the dirt off his pants before offering a hand. “After I drive us back to LA. I’ll have the hotel sommelier bring us a selection.”
I consider. “Maybe have him take the night off and we can raid the wine cellar.”
“Done.”
I grab his hand, and he tugs me up in one easy motion.
“Before you suggest laying charges, I’ve considered it,” I say as I adjust my bag on my shoulder. “Not at first, but later. The statute of limitations is up, though, so I couldn’t if I wanted to.”
He exhales heavily, then pops the top button on his shirt as if he needs the air. “In that case, let’s go home.”
I don’t argue with his choice of words.