Wade
Harlow looked over the rim of the coffee mug. “You're staring.”
“I’m thinking,” he said.
“That's usually dangerous,” she teased.
“Harlow,” he breathed.
She put the mug down. “Why do I suddenly feel like I'm about to hate whatever comes out of your mouth next?”
“Because you're smart,” he said.
“Wade,” she breathed.
He rubbed a hand over his beard. “You need to decide what you want.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said.
“I did. I'm just not sure what you're talking about,” she insisted.
“I’m talking about us,” he said.
Her expression changed. “Us?”
“Yeah, us,” he repeated.
She stared at him. “What about us?” she asked.
Wade leaned against the counter. “You've been through a lot.” Her face immediately closed off. He saw it happen, but he still kept going. “You ran away from your wedding.”
“I remember,” she said.
“Your father was involved in trafficking women,” he continued.
Her jaw tightened. “I remember that too.”
“You killed Frank,” he said.
“Pretty sure I won’t ever forget that one,” she spat.
“Harlow,” he said.
“What exactly are you trying to say?” she asked.
Wade pushed away from the counter. “I'm saying your whole fucking life exploded, and somewhere in the middle of all that, you ended up with me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Ended up with you?” That was the wrong wording, and he knew it immediately, but he still didn't fix it, probably because he was an asshole.
“You know what I mean,” he said.
“No. Actually, I don't.”
Wade exhaled. “Christ.”
“Don't Christ me,” she shouted back.
“I'm trying to do the right thing here,” he said.
“That's usually when people do the most damage,” she almost whispered. He went still because that one hurt.
Harlow crossed her arms over her chest. “Say what you want to say.”
Fine. “You need space,” he said.
Her face fell, just slightly, but it was enough that Wade hated himself. “I need space?” she asked.
“Yes, you need space to figure out what you want,” he said.
“Interesting,” she breathed.
“Don't do that,” he mumbled.
“Do what?” she asked.
“That thing where you get quiet instead of yelling at me,” he said.
“Would you prefer yelling?” she asked.
“Probably,” he said. It would make all this easier if she argued with him. He’d feel like less of an ass then.
“Fine.” She slapped both hands against the counter. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Wade almost smiled, but he didn't. “You need time to figure out whether you actually want me.”
Her anger disappeared. “What do you mean? I do want you.”
“You heard me,” he insisted.
“Yes, Wade, I heard you. I'm trying to understand why you're saying something so unbelievably stupid.”
“It isn't stupid,” he insisted.
“It really is,” she countered.
“You met me because you were running from Frank,” he pointed out.
“So?” she asked.
“You needed somewhere safe. You needed money and a job. You needed somebody standing between you and your father.”
“And you did all of that for me,” she said.
“That doesn't mean you want me,” he said. Her mouth fell open, but Wade continued before he could stop himself. “Maybe you want what I represent.” The second the words left his mouth, he wanted them back.
Harlow's face went completely still. “What you represent.”
“Safety,” he said.
Her eyes flashed. “Wow.”
“Harlow—” he breathed.
“No, keep going,” she spat. “You’re on a roll.”
“That wasn’t an insult,” he insisted.
“It sure as hell feels like one.”
“I'm saying maybe you're grateful, but you don’t really want me,” he said.
“Grateful?” she breathed. “And you think I slept with you because I'm grateful?”
“That's not what I said,” he insisted.
“You didn't have to say it,” she said. “I understand perfectly.”
Wade cursed under his breath. “This is why I didn't want to have this conversation.”
“No. You wanted to have it. You just wanted me to agree with you. I think that you’re panicking now that you don’t have to save me anymore, and you’re rethinking being with me. That’s what this is, right, Wade?”
“That isn't fair,” he said.
She laughed, and it wasn't a happy sound.
“Do you hear yourself?” Wade pushed his fingers through his hair.
He was fucking this up—badly, and he knew it, but the fear underneath everything wouldn't shut up.
What if she woke up a month from now and realized she'd grabbed onto the first man who offered her protection?
What if she stayed because she didn't know where else to go? What if she looked at Wade one day and saw another man who'd made choices for her? He couldn't fucking live with that.
“You've never had a chance to just be you,” he said. Harlow stopped, and her anger softened slightly. Wade seized on it. “That's what I'm trying to say.”
“Then maybe you should've started there,” she said. She looked away, and Wade stepped closer, but he was careful not to touch her.
“You went from your father's house to Frank's plan to marry you, to running into my bar.”
“I know,” she breathed.
“You haven't had five fucking minutes without somebody else being tangled up in your life.”
“So your solution is what?” she asked.
“You figure out who Harlow is when nobody's telling her who she needs to be,” he said.
She looked back at him. “And you're telling me to do that.”
Fuck. He almost laughed at the irony. “Okay. Bad wording.”
“Very,” she agreed.
“But you know what I mean,” he insisted.
“I think I do,” she said.
Wade studied her face. “I want you.” Her breath caught, but he needed her to hear that part.
“I want you in my bed.” Her cheeks pinked slightly.
“I want you in my house.” Her eyes softened.
“I want you behind my bar arguing with me about receipts and over pouring whiskey because you know it pisses me off.” A tiny smile appeared and then disappeared. Wade's chest hurt. “I want all of it.”
“Then what's the problem?” she asked.
“I need you to be sure that you want all the same things,” he said. He was met with her silence, and that was worse than her yelling.
Harlow stared at him for several seconds, and then she nodded slowly. “Okay.”
Wade frowned. “Okay?”
“You think I need time,” she said.
“Yeah, I do,” he agreed.
“And if I take that time?”
He didn't like where this was going. “Then you decide what comes next.”
“I get to decide whether I want to be with you,” she clarified.
“Yeah,” he breathed.
She nodded again. “Fine.”
Something cold settled in Wade's stomach. “Fine?”
“I'll take time,” she agreed. He should've felt relieved. This was what he wanted. Wasn't it? Fuck.
“Okay.” Harlow picked up her coffee, and Wade noticed that her hand was trembling slightly. Of course he fucking noticed because he noticed everything about her.
“Harlow,” he whispered, reaching for her.
“No,” she spat, “don’t touch me. You wanted me to decide.”
“I didn't mean right this second,” he insisted.
“You said I needed space,” she said.
“Yeah, I did,” he agreed.
“So I'm taking it.” Hearing her say that hurt more than it should have.
Wade's jaw tightened. “Good.” The word came out harder than he intended. Harlow looked at him, and there it was again—that flash of hurt. Wade hated himself.
“Good?” she repeated.
“Yeah,” he said. “Good.” He was doubling down, but he couldn’t help himself.
“Wow,” she breathed.
“I mean—” he started.
“No. It's fine,” she said, cutting him off.
“It doesn't sound fine,” he challenged.
“You said good,” she reminded.
“I know what I said,” he spat.
“Then apparently we're both clear,” she said. Fuck. She turned toward the hallway, and Wade followed her. Panic immediately filled him, and he had a sick feeling that he had just completely fucked up his life.
“Where are you going?” he asked.
“To pack,” she said.
He stopped. “What?”
“You want space, so I’m giving you space,” she said.
“I didn't say that you needed to leave,” he said.
She turned around. “You want me sleeping in your bed while I decide whether I want to be with you?” Wade opened his mouth and closed it. Harlow nodded. “Exactly.”
“You can stay here,” he offered.
“That makes no sense,” she insisted.
“It makes plenty of sense,” he argued.
“No, it makes sense to you because you want to push me away without actually letting me go anywhere,” she said.
Fuck. She knew him too well already. “Harlow.”
“I can't decide what I want while you're sleeping beside me every night,” she said.
Wade's temper snapped. “Fine.” She flinched. He saw it, and immediately regretted it. Still didn't take it back because apparently he had decided being a complete asshole was the best way to survive the morning. “Fine,” he repeated. “You want space? Take it.”
Her face hardened. “Gladly.” She disappeared into the bedroom, and Wade stood in the hallway.
What the fuck was he doing? He should go after her.
He should tell her he was scared or tell her the real problem wasn't that he thought she didn't want him.
The problem was that he wanted her so fucking badly he didn't trust himself not to make it too easy for her to stay.
But he didn't move, because if he went in there, he'd probably kiss her, and if he kissed her, this conversation was over.
Wade returned to the kitchen and grabbed his coffee.
It was cold, and it went perfectly with his mood.
Twenty minutes later, Harlow came back carrying one of the shopping bags she'd brought clothes home in earlier. Wade stared at it. “That's all your stuff?”
“I don't have much stuff,” she reminded.
He hated that sentence because it was another reminder of everything she'd lost. “Where are you going?”
“I don't know yet,” she admitted.
“No, that won’t work,” he said.
Her head snapped up, and she stared him down. “Excuse me?”
“You're not staying at some fucking motel,” he said.
Her eyes narrowed. “Interesting how quickly my freedom disappeared.”
“That's not what I meant,” he said.
“Then stop saying things like that,” she warned.
Wade clenched his jaw. “You're still in danger.”
“Frank is dead,” she reminded.
“Your father's people aren't all gone, Harlow,” Wade said.
“My father is in jail,” she countered.