Chapter Twenty-One #2
"Like I said, she thinks she's overstepped, and now she's pulling back, removing herself to make it easy on me."
"But why would she think it's easier? You love her. How could… wait… she knows you love her, right?"
Emmett pursed his lips.
"Well, shit, Mitty. What do you want the woman to do?"
"I have no freaking idea. Want? I want her to stay.
I want for the four of us to figure out how to be a family—a new-shape family.
Not anything that would replace Em, but to be, I don't know—the what-came-next in the story of our life.
But Alana's not ready for it. How can I make my daughter miserable to make myself happy?
And it's not that straightforward even for me.
How could I be happy letting someone new—letting Harper—into our life?
I know I'm contradicting myself, but that's how it feels, bud.
It's all one big contradiction. And I don't know what to do with it.
And Harper's trying to remove herself from the equation, and maybe…
maybe…" He didn't want to say it, didn't want to see it as the solution—even though he couldn't find another.
"You're thinking maybe you should let her go?"
Emmett stared out through the windshield at the mountains as Blane turned out onto East River Road and headed south. "Yeah," he said eventually. "What do you think?"
Blane didn't reply for a while. Instead, he reached the pullout by the river and brought the truck to a stop. "You want to know the truth?"
Emmett braced himself—Blane's truths were never gentle. "I do."
"Okay. Then I think you're a damn fool if you let her go.
You love her. I never thought I'd hear you say that about someone who wasn't Em—you know I didn't want to.
But Harper's… good. I didn't want to like her, but I do.
More than that, I respect her. I see what she does for you and for the girls.
She's good for them, even Alana—maybe especially Alana.
And I know figuring it out would be hard.
I have no fucking idea how you can do it.
But you're no quitter, Mitty, and nothing worth having comes easy. "
He went on before Emmett could reply. "You know I'm the last one to give relationship advice, but I'd say maybe you let her take that step back.
Maybe you guys need to build more slowly.
She moved in because you needed help, and that was right.
But maybe what it needs—what Alana needs—is time to get used to the new shape before she's landed right in the middle of it.
Maybe that's it. Shit, I don't know. But I don't think you should give her up. "
Emmett shifted in his seat. "That's not all, though."
"Jesus, what else?"
"Her old boss called this morning—that's the second time that I know of. He wants her to go back."
"Does she want to?"
"She says she doesn't, but how can I ask her to stay here—to take on me and the girls when she could have her old life back?"
"Seems to me the better question is how could you not ask? If you don't, you'd be letting her make a decision without all the available intel."
"But telling her I want her to stay, telling her I love her—that seems like putting pressure on her."
"It seems like being honest to me. And besides, she strikes me as the kind who wouldn't buckle under pressure."
Emmett smiled. "She is."
"Do you want me to take you back to the house so you can talk to her some more? I felt like I walked into the middle of something when I arrived."
He considered it for a moment. "No. Thanks, but no. I said I'd talk to her later, and I will. And she might be talking to her old boss."
Blane shook his head. "I'd say that's all the more reason to get your ass back there."
"Maybe. Thanks, but I’ll wait."
"I wish I could do something to help. I promised Em I'd have your back—and we both knew that didn't just mean I wouldn't let anyone hurt you. I won't let you screw yourself over, either."
"I'm not trying to screw myself over, just trying not to screw things up."
"I know. When you talk to her, you should tell her that you love her. I think that might be what she most needs to hear."
Emmett turned to look at him.
"Don't go trying to psychoanalyze me. I'm saying that because I did some digging around—needed to know what you were getting yourself into."
Emmett scowled.
"What? Don't act surprised. If you'd given it a minute's thought, you'd know that's exactly what I'd do.
Turned out it wasn't too hard to find out about her.
She's Shelley's friend. Trip's always happy to talk about Shelley.
And when we had a few beers and I asked about Shelley's background, he told me about her oldest friend—Harper, who grew up in foster care.
Who… had it tough. He thinks the world of her. "
"The way you hesitated—does that mean you know about her adult life, too?"
"That she’s divorced, never had kids, and now the ex has three? Yeah, but that was from my digging, not from Trip."
Emmett nodded, relieved that Blane’s digging hadn’t surfaced Harper’s private pain over her babies who didn't get to be.
Blane shrugged. "Seems to me that she's spent her whole life not finding where she belonged—never managing to become part of a family."
"I know. That's what makes it so much worse. She talked about always having the rug pulled out from under her, and here I am doing the same thing."
"Then don't do it. Let her in. Just take it slow enough that Alana can be okay with it. It's not as though she doesn't like Harper—she does."
"Have you been digging there, too?"
"Not digging; listening when my goddaughter talks."
"Thanks."
~ ~ ~
Harper closed the cottage door behind her and stood in the warm, dimly lit space.
The place smelled like cedar, and dust. She straightened her shoulders and went to open the blinds.
She could clean the place up in no time.
Let some air back in, give the place a once-over, pick up some fresh flowers. It'd feel fresh and lived-in again.
The question was: did she still want to live here?
Marcus had left her a voicemail asking her to call him back to discuss a very generous offer he wanted to make.
She'd bitten and called him—generous wasn't a word she'd heard him use before.
It turned out that the department was struggling since her departure—not that she was going to claim it was because of her.
The offer came from above Marcus's head, and she'd almost enjoyed hearing how much it pained him to make it.
Almost. But the point was that she didn't want to go back.
Not to New York, not to her job—not even for that kind of money.
She wanted to stay here in Montana. Truthfully, she wanted to stay with Emmett and the girls.
But since that possibility was off the table—and she was vaguely aware that she was the one who'd removed it—she didn't know if it would be harder to stay or to go.
Of course she loved the valley, loved being close to Shelley—although they hadn't spent nearly as much time together lately.
She'd told Emmett that she'd still help him with the girls and whatever else she could.
But she questioned the wisdom of that offer.
She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water before sitting down to make a list. She'd told Tanya earlier that she wanted to pick up a few things for herself from the grocery store—she just hadn't known that she'd be restocking her own fridge.
She looked up guiltily when she heard tires crunch on gravel outside and blew out a sigh when she saw Cash's black Suburban pull up.
She went to open the door and waited. "What can I do for you, Cash?" she asked when he got out.
He trotted up the steps wearing his usual cocky grin and greeted her with a peck on the cheek. "You can invite me in, offer me a drink. Haven't seen you in a while. How are things going?"
She made a face. "I need to go out soon."
"Yeah, but not just yet." Cash herded her back inside and stopped dead when he spotted her bags leaning against the wall. He gave her an inquiring look.
"What?" she asked defensively. "Am I not allowed to bring things back here?"
"Whoa! What's going on, honey?"
She glowered at him. "Who says there's anything going on?"
"I do."
"Because I brought bags back with me?"
"No, because you bit my head off before I even said a word—about the bags or anything else."
She blew out a sigh. "Sorry. I'm a little tense, that's all."
"Don't apologize. Anything I can help with?"
She shook her head.
"Everything all right with Emmett?"
She narrowed her eyes at him. "He's doing much better. Getting back on his feet. But you know that, you saw him on Sunday."
"That's not what I meant."
"I know."
He chuckled. "And you're not going to answer the real question?"
She shrugged. "I don't know how. But before you go off at half cock, he didn't do anything wrong. I don't want you to think that."
He smiled as he rested his hand on her shoulder. "I don't need to have the slightest clue about what's going on to know that. And I'm almost as sure that you didn't do anything wrong either."
She folded her arms across her chest and made a face at him. "Sometimes things go wrong without it being anyone's fault, you know."
"Believe me, I know. I'll see ya later, honey." He turned and headed for the door.
"I thought you wanted a drink."
"I do. I'll get Emmett to fix me one."
After he'd gone, she stared at the door he'd closed behind him. She'd love to think that Cash could do some of his famous meddling to make things right, but the situation wasn't that simple. It was so much harder to make things right precisely because no one had done anything wrong.