Chapter 27
Lark
“Don’t move,” he says, his voice as grave as his skin.
I stay where I am, too afraid to take even a step. “Why?” I ask, my voice trembling.
His gaze keeps darting between me and the edge like someone’s standing there. “You’re scaring me, Harbor. What is it?” With my arms wide from my sides, I slowly turn my head to look behind me again. There’s nothing there. Nothing but the rocks, the lake, and the sky.
The wind picks up, causing me to wobble in the breeze. “Whoa!” I overcorrect, making it worse and sending my right leg into the air. “Oh my God, Harbor!”
“Lark!” He lunges, just as I catch my balance right on the edge. His arms come around me, holding me so tight that I can’t see around him.
I grip his shirt and try to regulate my breathing because my gut tells me something’s wrong. His heart is pounding, and his silence is deafening. He barely moves, but I feel his mouth against my head, his breath warm compared to the air. He kisses me, and then whispers, “Don’t. Move.”
I don’t either except for the hair on my head when the wind blows through the strands. I don’t even breathe, waiting for him to tell me what to do. We stand there too long, not taking any steps away, so I ask, “Is it safe?”
His heart is beating in overdrive, so when he doesn’t answer, I slowly turn to look up at his face. His gaze is locked in a standoff he’s determined to win. I follow it over the cliff to a small ledge about ten feet below and suck in a harsh breath.
Before I have time to exhale, I’m swept into his arms. He carries me to a grassy area closer to the road and sets me down amongst the wildflowers that grow there. We’re still holding on to each other. His grip doesn’t loosen, and neither does mine.
Anguish contorts his handsome features, making him look almost unrecognizable.
I reach up to caress his face, to ease the pain that’s latched itself in his eyes.
Tears flood my eyes as I try to comprehend what just happened.
“Harbor . . .” There’s no question or nothing to say. I just need to know he’s still with me.
He closes his eyes and slowly releases a long breath while tilting his face to the sky. The breath he takes comes easier. Looking back at me, he runs his hand over my cheek. “Don’t scare me like that again, baby.” There’s no anger in his tone, just concern and a dash of something unfamiliar.
We’re far enough away to keep us safe, so I grin. “I’ll do my best.” I’m still unsure what I saw down there . . . I know, but I don’t know if I’m right thinking about it, much less asking him.
“I need you to promise you’ll never come back here, not ever, Lark. Can you do that?” Holding my shoulders, he tightens his grip with each insistence. “Will you do that for me?”
I wrap my hands around his wrists, still staring into his eyes that now reflect a watery surface. “I promise.”
He nods as if that’s enough for him. Taking my hand, we walk to the car in silence. The quiet between us used to be something I was okay with. Now, lately, it feels different. We are starting to feel different. And I don’t like it.
The wind picks up, so we hurry and hop inside the car.
Harbor doesn’t rush to start it, but I’m ready to get out of here.
I snap my seat belt and then sink against the seat.
Closing my eyes, I wish this day away. It’s been horrible, and it’s not even two o’clock.
“Can we go?” I ask, bordering on impatience.
He starts the car and shifts into gear. As soon as he pulls onto the road, I ask, “What just happened?”
Glancing at me quickly, he replies, “You got too close.”
Maybe it’s the tension between us, but the words hit me wrong. “To the cliff or to you?”
Emotion is lost in his eyes as he stares ahead at the road. Answered with silence again, I punch my fists against the seat beside my legs. “I’m too close to you, Harbor?” Staring right at him, I raise my voice when there’s no reaction. “Too clingy? What is it?”
He swerves the car to the left, cutting across the other lane to a picnic area a little distance from the cliffs.
I hold the door to keep from banging into it.
Slamming on the brakes, he shoves the gear into the park, and gets out of the car.
“Fuck!” he shouts as loud as he can, storming away from me with his fisted hands punching the air at his sides. “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”
I’ve never seen him so angry. Even when I pushed his buttons early on, he never got mad, not like this. I sit in the car, not sure what to do. Do I let him process as he has requested in the past, or do I force him to address the issue?
Something I’ve learned about Harbor is that he says he needs time, but when I’ve asked, he still opens up like it wasn’t time he needed but someone to be there for him.
I take a deep breath and open the car door.
The anger I felt that caused him to pull over has subdued compared to before, and by the time I near Harbor, it’s gone altogether.
His back is to me, his arms crossed over his chest. I approach, not so quietly, thinking it’s never a good idea to sneak up on someone, especially someone deep in thought as he appears to be.
Stopping to where I’m even with him, and our connection stretches between us, I whisper, “Harbor.” There’s no obligation to respond, just my heart speaking for me.
He looks at me.
I look at him, pleading with my eyes to understand what’s happening.
I don’t see love in his eyes. I see defeat.
It’s then that I realize how temporary we may be.
“Harbor?” I press this time, needing to hear his voice, needing him to hold me and tell me it will be all right.
I just don’t think he’s capable of it after what happened on the cliffs.
What did happen back there?
He had turned away briefly, but then he looks over at me.
“What were you thinking?” He stalks toward me, but I don’t flinch like I did at one time.
Not because he told me not to but because I know he won’t hurt me.
“You could have slipped like you fucking did. The rocks could have given way, the wind blowing in the wrong direction, anything. Anything could have sent you over that cliff.”
“But it didn’t.” Then the image of what I saw on the ledge below comes back to me.
“You were lucky this time.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I snap back, “Guess you’re going to have to share the title.”
He spits in annoyance with a half smirk sitting on his face. “You want to know why I’m called lucky?”
My expression sours, and I roll my eyes. When they meet his again, I plant a hand on my hip. “Sure, I’ll bite,” I say, half-sarcastically and partly aggravated. “Why are you the lucky one, Harbor?”
“Because I survived Devil’s Edge when my cousin didn’t.”
The ledge with chipped edges as if there’d been a recent rockfall.
The white paint faded from the sun, but clearly in the shape of a body.
The smirk is knocked right off my face, and my breath punched from my belly.
He sighs, looking down and pinching the bridge of his nose. When he looks back up, he says, “You didn’t do your research.”
“I didn’t. I put my trust in you instead of the internet.
” I move closer to him, risking it all since we’re close to a breaking point anyway.
I can’t hold back, not with him, not ever.
He’ll either be my closest ally or biggest enemy.
There will never be middle ground for us. “Do you prefer I read about it online?”
“No.”
“I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. What do you want from me, Harbor?”
His hands are no longer clenched. The life that had left his eyes has returned, but the warmth that is usually there is remorse this time. “I love you, Lark.”
“I know you do, but it isn’t enough. I need answers.”
He closes the gap, not leaving room for us to exist in a purgatory of our making anymore. “Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you, but don’t make me confess like a criminal.”
Tension has escaped his muscles, leaving him in surrender. I’ve been pushed to my limits as well, but I still won’t hurt him. Not purposely. The paint. The rockfall. The wind. “Lucas slipped on the rocks? Is that how he died?”
“The truth?” he asks as if the concept is foreign to him.
I know it’s not, so this is bad. “That’s all we have left.”
His gaze slides to the side of me and then returns with a renewed mission. “He slipped. That’s what all the news articles will tell you. That’s what my family knows. That’s what I lived through. Him slipping and hitting the ledge.”
I’m lost. It can’t be that simple. Horrific, yes. An awful tragedy that Harbor survived. Most definitely. But something’s not right, something I’m not privy to—a look, a secret, a lie in his eyes. I just have to know what to ask.
The question dawns on me. The only one that makes sense to ask. My hands start shaking, knowing this could change everything for him. His haunting words come back to me. “Ask me anything, and I’ll tell you.” My heart starts racing, afraid of the answer, but I ask anyway. “How did he die, Harbor?”
“Lucas didn’t slip. He jumped.”
The answer is harder to hear than I expected. Sickness coats my stomach as I realize the mistake I’ve made with my assumption. I throw my arms around him, hugging every part of him as if I’m the glue keeping him together. “You weren’t keeping it from me. You were protecting him.”
I hold this man, his giant frame squeezed in my arms. When I finally let go, I step back to rest my palms on his chest. Harbor doesn’t blink, and I’m not sure he’s even breathing. He’s just standing there, staring at me, so I whisper, “No one else knows, do they?”
He shakes his head.
I take a deep breath and tears fill my eyes again, thinking how seeing me on that same cliff brought back the worst day of his life.
“Oh, Harbor, babe, I’m so sorry. I wouldn’t have been there had I known.
I’m sorry for putting you through that again.
” I lean my head against his chest, hoping, praying his arms wrap around me this time.
Not for my comfort but for his, so he knows I’m here.
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m not leaving you. I’m here. Right here with you.”
Strong arms wrap around me, and I’ve never felt such relief and reward equally. He kisses my head, and then says, “The knot in my chest is gone.”
The lies he carried . . .
The burden he bore . . .
The secrets he swore to uphold . . .
All weighed on him, and then his aunt tortured him some more.
I kiss his chest and then under his chin. His arms don’t loosen until I wiggle enough to look up again. Searching his eyes, I return to what started it all, and ask, “Why are you the lucky one?”
“Because he tried to take me down with him.”
My stomach drops, the revelation almost too much to handle. I might not have ever had the chance to love this man. I lift on my toes to kiss him, and then he kisses each of my cheeks where the tears stream down. He says, “You’re only allowed to cry happy tears, remember?”
“They are happy. I’m happy you’re here.” We embrace again, but this time when we part, our hands stay together.
The winds have changed, and the temperature has suddenly dropped.
I think I’ve had enough of the cliffs today, maybe forever.
Who cares if they’re gray or shine like diamonds.
They almost stole him from me. I say, “I’m exhausted. Let’s go home.”
“Yours or mine?”
We start walking to the car. I think about his question, and only one thing comes to mind. “Wherever you are is home to me.”