16. Harlan
16
HARLAN
T he room is still dark when a soft buzzing sound pierces the silence in the room. Reid doesn’t move, his body draped over mine like he can’t get close enough. It’s another thing I never appreciated because I never had it.
Last night had been intense.
Being with him had been so easy out in town, but the closer we got to the cabin, the more the blood roared in my ears that I needed to have him.
To consume him.
And I had.
I’d fucked him and made love to him in a way I never had with anyone else before. He held me, his kisses across my skin seeming to heal the scars of my past. He’d been sweet and gentle but he’d also claimed me—pulled my hair and raked his nails down my back and chest.
I have half a mind to cancel that job in February and see what life with Reid might be like. My lips twitch as his hips rock against my thigh; the man had been insatiable and I wasn’t complaining.
I want to stay like this forever.
His weight on me feels decadent, his warmth seeping into my bones.
My phone sounds again, my brain already resigned to being awake until I find out why someone would need something this early.
Easing myself out from under Reid, I hunt through our discarded clothes, finally locating my jeans and wrestling the phone from the front pocket.
WINSTON: I have an early meeting but when I get back, I need to see you in my office
WINSTON: I’ll call you—don’t bother making plans
Don’t bother making plans.
Fuck my fucking life.
A rational man might not jump to conclusions.
But I’m anything but rational in this moment.
Does he know about Reid and me?
Does he know he stayed at the cabin the last two nights?
The breath leaves my lungs, my vision blurring, but I try to keep the panic at bay. I don’t want to wake Reid. I can’t face him when it feels like my past is repeating itself. Except it’s so much worse.
Because this time, I know the feelings I have for the man naked in my bed are real and that he feels the same in return. It’s terrifying—a feeling I’d never dreamed I’d have again.
Not until Reid.
And I like it here.
I like my job and the Sterlings—but I’d gotten too comfortable, hadn’t I? I’d let myself feed into the family mentality.
I let myself think this could be different.
Now my only hope is to see if my new job would be willing to take me early—the job I hadn’t thought about once while having Reid curled up in my arms.
Giving him one more look, I try and memorize every curve and shadow, every dip and line of his perfect face and body.
I try and memorize everything for the days when I wake up alone and miserable, knowing this was the happiest time of my life.
Blinking back tears, I dress quietly and head to my truck. I need to walk among the trees—I need to prepare.
Because the next time I see him, I’ll undoubtedly break us both.
The extra time in the orchard did nothing to calm my nerves. I’d thrown up the two sips of coffee I had this morning behind a bush on the far side of the farm, the liquid souring my stomach as the world started to spin around me.
The way things ended with Dante had been brutal but they’d been nothing like this. And Reid… God, why does it have to be this way?
I blink back the tears that have threatened to fall since I left the cabin. I can’t afford to start now; I’ll never stop.
And then I won’t be able to do what needs to be done.
My heart stutters in my chest at the sight of Reid walking across the lot. I see him before he sees me, and the inclination to run has never been higher than at this moment. His gait is light, his expression full of hope and contentment like a man that is still feeling the aftereffects of a night of orgasms.
A night spent with me.
How did I let this happen? I’d let myself get too attached—too caught up in the goodness radiating from him.
I’d let myself be happy.
More than happy.
But it hadn’t taken long before it was ripped away with one ominous text, two if we’re being technical. The parallels to my departure in Wyoming had drawn the same path to Montana and I’d be out on my ass soon enough.
No reason to drag Reid into it.
It’ll be easier for both of us if he isn’t wrapped up in my bullshit when his uncle fires me—easier for him to forgive his uncle instead of some guy he got naked with a couple of times.
I’d never want to come between him and his family because he loves them and they think he hung the moon.
I’m going to miss it here so damn much.
Already, he’s drawing attention from the few people milling about. He should because he’s perfect— such a better man than I am—weaving through the trees like there’s some kind of invisible thread between us.
“Hi,” he says, the single word of greeting breathy, causing a white puff of air. His eyes are sparkling as he holds out a cup of coffee toward me. “I got this for you. I think I remembered your order. No peppermint—that’s for later.”
His cheeks pinken and I know it’s from my proximity and not the cold.
“I can’t,” I start, the mask I’ve so carefully honed falling into place—the one that I never should have taken down. “I can’t do this with you. I thought I could, but I can’t.” My voice cracks on the last word, the only indication that I’m not made of stone as I do this.
As I end things.
As I break us.
His brow furrows, his glasses sliding down his nose the slightest bit. “But last night?—”
“Last night was a mistake.” The words are cold, and he flinches like I’ve struck him and I might as well have. “Being together…giving in to you…was a mistake.”
I stare and let the words sink in.
Being with you was a mistake.
I know the moment it happens. His lips part ever so slightly, a softly exhaled wow the only sound I can hear as if he’d exclaimed it rather than whispered it.
Eyes dropping to the ground, he scuffs his boot over the earth and I think he’s going to say something—anything—but he doesn’t. Instead, he bends down to place the coffee cup on the frozen grass before standing. He won’t look at me and I don’t blame him. I did this to him.
To us.
I want to tell him I’m wrong, but I can’t for both of our sakes. He’d been a moment of weakness—a moment of the most beautiful reprieve. But he deserves so much more than what I could offer. I open my mouth to tell him that—to somehow lessen the blow—but all the air is sucked from my lungs as I watch him lift his hand to wipe a single tear from his cheek as he turns to leave.
My jaw clenches, my teeth grinding as I watch his shoulders hunch, his hand reaching up to his face again where I know without seeing him that more than just that lone tear has escaped.
I didn’t cry after losing Dante, and I know damn well he didn’t cry over me. Guy didn’t even lose sleep after using me and tossing me aside. I should have learned my lesson. I should have heeded the little voice in my head telling me not to get involved with Reid in the first place.
But I’d so desperately craved his warmth. I sought out his kindness, hoping to have some of it for myself.
To have him.
“Harlan, can you help me over here?” Lake’s voice sounds like he’s talking to me underwater, my head turning in slow motion to look at him. “Are you okay?”
No.
“Of course,” I say, shaking away the devastation of breaking Reid’s heart. It might have been bold to assume he’d fallen for me in any capacity in such a short time, but I knew deep in my soul that he had.
Because I’d fallen too.