Chapter 44
Harbor
Years earlier, I told Lark we needed a redo. Our meeting wasn’t one made of the stuff that filled the romance movies and books she loved. But I fucked up that redo back in New Haven. Twice.
This time, I’m not taking any chances. I won’t fuck it up again. Too much time without her has passed. Every moment matters, so I’m not holding back anymore. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that secrets are only meant to hold you back and make you despise the very thing you were protecting.
I reach the edge of the city and keep driving over the George Washington Bridge into New Jersey. Lark hasn’t said a word since she got in the vehicle. I haven’t felt the need to fill in the silence. I’m content with the trust she’s given me that allows her to go wherever I choose.
It’s tempting to reach over and hold her hand like we used to. I tighten my fingers around the steering wheel and try to keep my eyes forward. It’s easier to face the future than stare at my past, wondering if we’ll ever get back to where we once were in each other’s lives.
There’s no winning that battle. Lark has always been the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, so I steal a peek.
The last light of the day shines through the windshield.
It’s bright, but she doesn’t bother to shield her eyes.
She embraces the light instead. Leaning forward, she closes her eyes and soaks in the rays.
I could stare at her for hours and find new captivations on every inch of her skin, but I drag my attention back to the road ahead, needing to stay focused on driving instead of the mesmerizing woman beside me.
Lark’s features are more defined than when she was back in college.
Her nose is a little sharper like her chin.
Her skin is smooth, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a blemish on her.
If there ever was a flaw, I never noticed.
She used to wear her hair up most days. Now it’s longer than it ever has been, shiny in the sunshine, and a thousand shades blending from blond to darker than my brown.
She looks incredible in that dress. It shows off the curves I used to spend nights traversing with my tongue.
I thought I had better control of my cravings for her, but being inside the car with the rest of the world trapped outside, her sweet, floral scent wraps around me like a scarf.
Her being this close to me again has unintended consequences that are out of my control.
I shift in my seat.
As if she senses my weakness for her, her eyes open, and her gaze slides over to me and down without apology. She says, “I have a feeling you weren’t in the area.”
I glance at her, catching sight of the gold centers where the sun is as rapt as I am, finding peace within the greenest depths of Lark’s eyes.
Death of me . . .
Closing my eyes briefly, I breathe, inhaling her into my lungs.
What a glorious death it will be.
I chuckle. “No, I wasn’t in the neighborhood.”
“I always knew you were a stalker.” She grins, resting her head back on the seat. “I called it the first day we met.”
She’s right. “I’d been watching you since the first time I saw you.” I grip the wheel like it can transfer the support I need to confess my sins. “You took my breath away. That had never happened before.” I glance over at her again. “I knew you were special.”
“I wasn’t special because you noticed me, Harbor. I was special because I saw through your facade. I saw you.”
I’m leveled by her words, and her insight hits me square in the heart.
“You did see me. You’re the first person who ever did.
I meant to thank you for that.” I volley my gaze between her and the road a few times.
“After I left, I think I spent the first two years trying to become a man worthy of you again.”
Her expression falls, but she doesn’t give in and fights to keep the corners of her mouth even. “You were worthy the day we met, Harbor.”
Hearing her tell me I’m worthy cuts deeper than a knife ever could. I know I did what I had to for her, but I still doubt how I went about it. I saw no other way. I scrub over my face and turn on the music.
We cover miles, but she’s still riding along like we’re on a pleasant Sunday drive. I finally reach our destination. I drive over gravel and park. Not making a move to get out, she asks, “Where are we?”
“Palisades Cliffs.” I get out and come around, opening the door for her. When I offer my hand, she slips hers right in. The surge between us ushers us together when she stands, though our bodies barely touch. Looking at her, I tuck hair behind her ear as if I still have that right.
As if I hadn’t, she turns back and grabs the bag out of the car. Carrying it with her, she walks to the end of the vehicle and turns back. “Hungry?”
I shut the door. “I can eat.” We walk closer to the overlook, but I stop her. “You look fucking amazing, and those shoes . . . fuck me, they’re very . . .” I gulp.
“You like?” She lifts a foot, teasing me.
“Yeah, I like. You could say that.”
When she turns, I realize the view is almost gone for the night. We stand there, side by side, taking in as much as we can with the sun hiding under the tops of the distant hills. She turns to me. “I bet it’s beautiful during the day.”
“We’ll have to return and find out.”
She moves to a nearby park bench and starts unpacking the bag. When I sit next to her, she hands me a plastic fork. So I ask, “You’re feeding me a doggie bag from a dinner you just had with another man?” Gutsy, for sure. Not that I care. I’ll take anything she wants to share with me right now.
She’s mid bite and starts laughing, and then covers her mouth. When she finally finishes chewing and swallows, she clears her throat. “It’s a short story actually. It began when he ordered a salad for me and told me a woman of my age shouldn’t be eating pasta.”
“Does he want a fucking death wish?” I take a bite, remembering how she ate carbonara the first time we ate together.
“Right? That’s what I thought.”
“How did it end?”
“Well, when he ordered me a salad and told me I shouldn’t be eating pasta, it was pretty much over right then.”
“I’d say so.” I’m about to take another bite, but ask, “So where did this come from?”
“The server was incredible. He saw what went down and made my order anyway, packed it to go, and I was gone.”
“His loss.”
“Your gain,” she says, taking another bite.
It is my gain. She is. He’s a fool for fucking up, but I get it. We all do now and then, yet there’s no coming back from what he did and said. I wonder if I have a better chance.
We eat a few more bites before she says, “I wish I had brought some water.”
“I have some.” I get up and pop the trunk. Pushing the flannel blanket to the side, I open the flap to the basket and pull two bottles of water from it.
I’m about to close the trunk when she asks, “What’s this?” I watch as her gaze darts around the trunk, and I’m quickly found guilty right after. She runs her fingers over the hand of the basket. “You brought a picnic for us?”
Busted. I run my hand over my hair. “Well, yes.”
“Why are we eating cold pasta then?”
“Because you love that dish.”
She sets the bag in the trunk with the pasta dish tucked back inside. “It’s not Moretti’s.” She remembers. I don’t know why that gives me hope, but it does. Moving to the back rear of the car, she leans her hip against it. Her gaze lengthens toward the road as a car passes by.
When she turns back to me, she says, “I’m starting to realize that it wasn’t the pasta I loved back then. Maybe it was the company.”
That’s when I know in my heart that we aren’t too far gone. This is the chance I never thought I’d get.
She digs into the basket and pulls a bottle out. “You brought wine. Can I have a glass?”
Over the next hour, our conversation has started to flow like it used to, without any pain clouding it. I stick to water since I have a long drive back, but I pour her a second glass. She has her knees tucked to her chest after discarding the heels while drinking the first glass.
“Lark?” She turns to look. I say, “I’d like to tell you the rest of the story of my cousin’s death, if that’s all right.”
Her lips have parted, and she leans forward, rubbing my shoulder. “Are you sure?”
“I shouldn’t have kept it in.” I swallow harder.
Despite being open with my family a few years back, it’s not something I often talk about.
“It controlled my life for too long. I told my family everything, and releasing the lies changed my life. I wish I had been strong enough to tell you when we were together. To trust you instead of trying to protect you from it.”
“You never should have had to bear that burden.” She nods and takes another sip of the wine. “I’m here and listening. Whatever you say is safe with me.”
I know . . . I knew all along. “Back when Lucas and I were fifteen, we were smoking weed and drinking, dabbling in a few heavier things. While under the influence of probably all of those things, we made a blood pact. If I go, you go. It was dumb and had no real meaning behind it. Best friends making vows they had no intention of carrying out just to see if the other was that loyal. I mean, it was right after he said if I smoke, you smoke. If you drink, I drink. If I go, you go. Meaningless in the scheme of things, but especially when you’re high as a fucking kite. ”
Lark’s body has stilled beside me. Her glass is now next to her on the bench, and she’s staring out like she can still see the Hudson. When her mouth opens, I think she’s going to ask a question. I wish she would, but she doesn’t. She takes my hand instead and holds it on her lap.
Needing to get this story off my chest, I say, “I told you we weren’t hanging out much those last couple of years.
I wasn’t into the same scene, but I remember when he showed up at my house.
He seemed sober enough. Dragged me from the pool to go check out the cliffs at Devil’s Edge.
” I exhale as the memory comes back. “I was glad to see him. It had been too long. I’d been holing up in my room, so I went along.
He drove us out there and ran so fast from the car that I thought he was about to jump.
Fuck.” I scrape my nails over my scalp to redirect the pain threatening to overwhelm me.
Lark whispers, “It must have been terrifying.”
It’s not a word I would use often, but she nailed how I felt back then.
“He was starting to bounce, anxiety getting the better of him. He was erratic and kept grabbing my shirt, wanting me to listen. I was listening, man. I was listening.” I glance at her again, and this time, her eyes meet mine. “He brought up the pact.”
“Harbor . . .” I can’t tell if it’s a cry of sympathy or a warning to stop.
“I’m sorry. I can stop.”
“No. I don’t want you to. It just hurts to know you carried this secret all on your own.” She takes my hand and brings it to her mouth. When she presses her lips to the top of it, I close my eyes and savor everything about it, about her, at this moment. I may not get another.
“Lucas was convinced that day was the day we needed to hold each other accountable for the pact. He was determined to make me keep my promise.” My knee is bouncing.
I wish it were daylight so I had something steady to set my eyes on.
Fisting and releasing, stretching my fingers, I fist again and repeat as anxiety rebuilds from that day.
“He just kept swearing that I swore my life that night, grabbing my hand to show me the scar.”
A tear rolls down Lark’s cheek. I reach to wipe it away for her, but then I pause.
She gives my hand a little squeeze and the green light.
I gently catch the tear and hold it to my lips, tasting her for the first time in what feels like forever.
The tears she cries for me give me strength, knowing she still cares.
“He went to the edge and told me he didn’t want to live this life anymore.
When I went to stop him, he grabbed my shirt to take me with him. ”
With a gasp, she jumps to her feet and throws her arms around me. “That’s horrible, babe.” The wine spills, but neither of us cares. As I pull her onto my lap, this woman I never stopped loving, I know what saved that day and again years later. She did.
Her tears seep through my shirt, but she doesn’t hold back, just like the name she called me. We’re bonded more than she used to think. We always will be.
I hold her tightly to me, and say, “He jumped, but I fell. My life was inexplicably tied to his that day. He hit his head, not clearing the cliff, and I fell on my back fifteen feet below Devil’s Edge, landing on a ledge.
” I exhale and set her back on the bench.
As much as I want to hold her again, I need space to work this out not just in my head but also around me.
I say, “I broke a leg and most of my ribs on one side, but I held Lucas in my arms until he died. It wasn’t long, probably ten minutes, but I was stuck there for hours praying I’d be saved.”
“I’m sorry, Harbor. I’m so sorry you went through that.”
Seeing her in her bare feet against the gravel, I stop and scoop her into my arms. “Did you not feel the pain under your feet?”
“How could I when your pain was so much greater?”
Sighing, I’m so torn up that I’m not sure how to feel. She has me feeling like a superhero flying back into her life, into her arms again, but I’m not a fool. This story takes a toll when I relive the words that tell the story. Is she just feeling sorry for me?
I carry her to the car and set her in the seat. Kneeling beside her, I say, “Don’t do that. Don’t compare our pain. Yours matters to me just as much, if not more, than any I’ve experienced.”
She caresses my cheek. “How did you survive?”
“I was there, but my phone had fallen out of my pocket. Lucas didn’t have one on him. So I waited. For hours, I waited. At different points, I was fading in and out of consciousness. I knew that wasn’t a good sign, so I focused all my energy on one thing.”
“What was it?”
I drag the pads of my thumbs over the apples of her cheeks and wipe away the tears and makeup that’s run down her face. “A bird.”
“A bird?”
“Yeah. This little bird was perched high in a tree that overhung the cliffs and lake.” I’m glad she smiles. I say, “I listened to that bird, tuned into its melody as it sang. I remember that bird being there, singing to keep me awake, until I was rescued.”
“How did they find you?”
“My car. I’d run so fast to stop Lucas that I’d left my door open. A passerby called it in, and the police and paramedics came.” I smile. “That bird kept me alive.”
She smiles, her hands resting on my knees. “It sounds like it. What kind of bird was it?”
“It was a lark.”