Chapter 17
Harbor
Lark has been quiet since we got to her place.
Amanda even pulled me aside to ask what was going on. All I could say was Liz is on her mind. That’s all Amanda needed to hear. She made a cup of tea, set it in front of Lark, and then turned on When Harry Met Sally.
The three of us watched half the movie before Amanda told us good night and went to bed, leaving Lark and me to deal with the silence.
Leaning back on the couch, I look over at her, and ask, “You know how sometimes we say we’ll talk about things another time?
Are we waiting for a better time, or will we never talk about them? ”
Lark pulls the elastic from her hair and runs her fingers through the wild curly strands. “I took it as we were waiting for the right time to bring it up and discuss it.”
“Funny thing about time is that it never changes. It’s consistently the same. We’re the ones who change.”
She looks at me, the happiness she usually can’t hide from me void in her expression tonight.
Her eyes, though, those greens aren’t taking time off.
She’s listening, seemingly taking in what I was saying.
She says, “I’m not afraid to open up to you, Harbor.
It’s just not a great story. There’s no happy ending. ”
“I don’t need happy endings, and I don’t need your life to be entertainment for me. I want to get to know you, but I can see how painful this is for you, so there’s no pressure from me to talk it through.”
Curling her legs under her, she gets more comfortable on the other side of the couch.
“I don’t know every detail of what happened to her, and I’m certain some things my dad will take to the grave with him.
But what I do know is that she grew up in The Pointe and graduated from Beacon Pointe High School.
Somewhere in that period, she met my dad, and along came me.
” She frames her face and puts on a fake smile.
She doesn’t have to put on pretenses for me, but maybe it helps in some way.
I’ve done it plenty of times when it came to Lucas, and plastering on a fake smile has helped me out of plenty of situations.
I’m surprised by how few details she knows, or is she not ready to share? I’ll wait for when it feels right for her. Reaching over, I rub the top of her thigh. “Come here.”
She unfurls herself from the cushion and slips into my arms, her back to my chest. Her body is calm against mine, but I know her mind is spinning. She says, “I don’t know anything about their relationship, but something wasn’t working. That aside, how does someone leave a two-year-old?”
I promised not to pressure her. And I want her to know she’s in control of this. As much as I want to give her answers, I don’t have them, and I’m not sure I can find them. So right now, I just want to make sure she doesn’t feel alone.
I hold her a little tighter. She didn’t open up to me for answers. She knows I don’t have them. She just needs me to be there for her. I can do that. I will do it. Seeing her in pain in a way that hurts the core of who she is is all wrong. Lark deserves better.
She says, “No one’s perfect, but the little I’ve gotten from my dad is that she never asked for this life. She was from a whole other world and got stuck here in a run-down shack with a kid and a mechanic.”
“Your dad’s a mechanic?” This is new information. Amanda sharing with me that he likes cars is an understatement. He’s a trained professional. No wonder he knew what my car was just from a quick glance. This is something I can work with.
She nods against my chest. Angling to look at me, she fidgets with the hem of my shirt.
“She was young, about the same age we are now, so I try to give her the benefit of the doubt. She was overwhelmed and cut off from her family. That’s all I know.
It must be why she abandoned me.” Suddenly looking at me, she asks, “What do you think?”
What do I think?
“Um,” I start, not sure what to say. “I don’t know. It sounds like there’s a lot of information missing. That must make it hard to move forward.”
“Yeah. It does. It’s like, if I could just get a fuller picture of the situation, I’d be able to close that chapter. Instead, I’ve been left in limbo my whole life.”
“Is there anyone else you can ask? Grandparents? Siblings of your parents?”
“No, my dad’s parents split up when he was young.
My grandfather took off, and my grandmother died before I was born.
As for Liz, something in my gut tells me she’s still alive.
I don’t know anything about her family, though.
My dad was really kept out of their lives.
They never approved of them or their marriage. ”
Lark pushes off the couch and from my lap.
She pads across the room into the kitchen, and without needing to ask, she pours us both a glass of water.
I follow her in there, holding her by the hips and kissing the side of her head.
That’s when it dawns on me that I’m holding her the same way Dad held Mom.
My instinct is to push away and change positions, but my head tells me to stay. Because they’re my parents, I’ve always given them a hard time about their PDA. But the way they publicly showed each other love was modeling the behavior.
Before I have more time to second-guess myself, Lark’s arms cover mine, taking my hands and holding them to her chest. Giving her the security of my arms is an extension of how I feel about her. It’s us, baring our souls for each other. Though the words don’t come, the feeling is still between us.
I kiss her once more before she turns in my arms, leaning against the counter. Caging her in, I lean down and get the pleasure of her lips again. But gentle pressure has our mouths separating. Lark wraps her arms around my neck, and asks, “Who is Lucas Westcott?”
Hearing his name come from her mouth hits like a ton of bricks. Unable to answer what to her is a simple question, I move away, my back hitting the fridge. I run my hand through my hair, wondering if it’s time for me to go home.
“Harbor?” My eyes are on her as she approaches like she’s sneaking up on a wild cat. Caressing my face, she rubs the space between my brows and then my temples, the skin at the corners of my eyes, and then my frown. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Taking her hands in mine, I lower them between us. “It just didn’t . . . I need—”
“What do you need?”
“A warning next time. I understand the interest, but you can’t trade my pain for yours. They’re two different things.”
“I don’t know what you mean,” she says, freeing herself and moving back against the opposite counter. “I could have asked Amanda who he was. She knew him.”
“Then ask her.” I leave the small kitchen, the space too confining for a confrontation.
“I’m asking you.”
I stop a few feet away and look over my shoulder, our eyes meeting. “I heard you, but there’s no fucking way I’m having this conversation, not tonight, and if I have my way, not ever.” I turn the bolt to unlock the door.
“Why are you leaving?” Lark runs to block me by pressing her back to the door.
My hand is on the doorknob, ready to help me escape.
She only asked about him, nothing more, but I stand there, looking at her as if she’s changed.
She hasn’t. I have, which isn’t fair to her.
“You were sharing your hurt with me.” I touch her cheek, rubbing the pad of my thumb over her soft skin.
“And it means a lot that you trusted me with that part of yourself. But it doesn’t mean I’m ready to do the same. ”
“Harbor,” she says, her tone dripping in sympathy. My hands have lowered, but I don’t move away from her because I’ve done her dirty by making her grovel for me. “I’m—”
“It’s okay. I’m just telling you how it is with me. Lucas Westcott isn’t a story I’ll be sharing.”
“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want. I won’t ask again. Just please stay.”
My throat feels thick with remorse—not for standing my ground about my cousin but for making her feel bad for even asking. “I’m sorry, Lark. Maybe I overreacted. It’s just—”
“You don’t have to explain. You’re allowed to keep parts of yourself private.” She’s too understanding.
“That’s just it. It’s not private. It’s all out there. You can google it.”
“I don’t want to google it. I don’t want to learn about you from the internet. I want to know the person you want to share with me.”
Fuck. I feel like shit now. I move in, bringing her into a hug. She lets me without resistance, which makes me feel worse instead of better.
Generally, I’m as honest as I can be, but Lark speaks her heart, which can be a dangerous proposition. But I speak from mine as well when it comes to her, so I guess we’re both taking a risk.
Getting to know someone—about their family, their upbringing, and their life—isn’t always easy. Her arms finally come around me, and she rests her cheek on my chest. “This is going fast . . .”
This.
Us.
I step back—emotionally and physically—to deal with the tightening in my chest by rubbing the forming knot before it settles in. “What are you saying?”
“I shouldn’t have pushed.” She walks to the bedroom, still talking. “That’s all.” Turning in the doorway, she leans against it. Nothing about her stance is open to me.
Crossed arms.
Pursed lips.
Eyes with no shine for me to find.
What have I done?
I’ve fucked up. That’s what.
But it’s easier to think she’s the fool for opening the door and letting me into her life. Although I hope I won’t be a regret she has one day, I have a feeling I don’t have a say in the matter. She’s already made the sacrifice—herself.
This time, I won’t play games. I won’t toy with her or her feelings. She deserves to have honesty, something that I’m used to burying to protect a ghost.
“I wasn’t believed when I told the truth, but the lies were as if everyone was waiting for this day, anticipating my downfall. I had no choice but to embrace what benefitted my cousin more. I gave them what they wanted and told them I caused the accident.”
Her guard is down, and worry wrinkles her face as she comes back to me. Taking my hands, she kisses one and then the other. “I’m so sorry.” She reaches up and wraps her arms around my neck, hugging me with all her strength. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that alone.”
Her response takes me by surprise. I’ve never had anyone take my side before. I lean back to see her face. “What?”
“Harbor,” she says, caressing my face. “I can’t imagine feeling so alone that you have to lie to please everyone.”
I’ve unlocked the gates, and memories begin to flood back. “You don’t understand. I didn’t deserve a shot to set things right or to make amends. I’d fucked up so many times.”
“Not enough. Not ever enough to be dismissed.” She takes my hand and leads me to her bedroom. “We should be in bed.”
“Why?”
She starts on her shirt, pulling it over her head and dropping it to the floor. She nods in encouragement. Not that I need it to get naked with her, but what the hell, I’ll go along with her plan.
“We’re not rushing into this just because we’re addressing real feelings.”
“I don’t have some elaborate plan to lure you into my bed, Harbor. I just want to be with you. Now take off your clothes and take me to bed.”
I reach over my shoulder and tug my shirt off from over my head, dropping it to the floor like she did. When she starts on her jeans, I start on mine. “You don’t have to ask me twice.”
She grins and then laughs, bringing my own laughter to the surface. Her light is giving me the reprieve I didn’t know I needed until we arrived here.
Like every other time we’ve spent together, this is right. This is us. The levity feels good, even if it comes in the darker hours of our lives.
I take a deep breath when only our underwear is left hiding our secrets. But soon, even that barrier is removed. First her bra and then her panties. Both left in a pile at the foot of her bed. She stands there, baring herself to me. It doesn’t feel erotic, though she’s incredibly sexy.
There’s more weight to this moment we’re sharing. I remove my boxer briefs and stand across from her. She doesn’t rush to me to hide herself, and I don’t close the gap to cover us in an embrace.
As the laughter fades, we just are right then, just us, and the light from the small lamp on the nightstand. Lark moves to the side of the bed and then climbs in. I climb in on the other side and move to the middle to be close to her again.
She rolls to her side and snuggles against me. Her breath drifts across my chest, warming me, and her heart beats against my ribs.
I wrap my arm around her, not knowing what I did to deserve this woman in my life, but I vow to always protect her. I’ve never felt this strongly for someone. I won’t lose her, and if that means putting my heart on the line, I’ll do it. “I love you.”
Those three words come so easily that I realize that a timeframe can’t dictate what the heart already knows.
“I love you, too,” she whispers.
Kissing the top of her head, I’m aware that it’s too soon to share those words. But if we’re doing what comes naturally, I couldn’t hold them in any longer.
She mindlessly doodles with her nails lightly across my skin. Tilting her head, she kisses the underside of my chin, and then asks, “Do you want to start at the beginning?”