44. Harrison
Chapter 44
Harrison
Witch: You coming by the bunkhouse tonight?
Me: I was planning on it.
Witch: See you soon.
C oming to terms with healing from this heartbreak has made me realize that I want to spend as much time as I can with Harlow. I don’t care if my heart is on my sleeve and it’s going to get shattered. The village that stands behind me will help me piece everything back together. Knowing it’s coming to an end in a few days brings me a sense of peace and pain.
The drive over to the bunkhouse is quick and easy. I could probably do it with my eyes closed since I’ve been here more than my own place since we started all of this. If she brings up the money, I won’t be taking it. I’ve gained something else from this.
Our relationship is more than an arrangement, and today while we were out riding horses, she could see that. She’s a friend to us all, especially me.
The small house is dark except for the soft light from the lamp in the front room. Even after redoing the space and cleaning it after each guest, I will have that space better memorized than ever before. We’ve been intimate in almost every room and on almost every surface. It only takes being in the same space as her to excite me.
When I walk up the wooden steps, I peek into the window to see her lying on the couch with Cleo. Like the complete creep I am, I take a picture of her. She took one of me earlier while we were riding, so in a way, it’s the same.
She’s undressed from the day, wearing my PCHS hoodie and a blanket over her lap. Her black hair is tossed up in a messy bun, loose tendrils framing her face. Her ivory cheekbones are sun-kissed from the sunny fall day. Cleo is content in her lap, enjoying the loving strokes her mom gives her.
She is perfection in this moment, completely effortless and amazing.
After I snap a pic, I open the door and let myself in. Her hat hangs with her jackets. Another sight I’ll miss. It was perfect for her. She looks good dressed in English, but I know she’d be a fucking stunner Western.
I step out of my boots and drop my bag by the stairs before going into the living room. She smiles from the couch, but there’s sadness behind it. She’s feeling what I am. It’s good to know that I’m not the only one who’s a bit messed up over it.
I walk over to her and kiss her lips.
“Hey, witch.”
“Welcome home,” she jokes.
My eyes go to the piece of paper that’s been crumpled and then flattened out on the coffee table. It’s our contract. I stare at it for a moment and then back at her. As if Cleo can sense our tension, she hops off her lap and rubs against my legs for a moment before heading up the stairs.
“Reviewing our terms?” I joke.
“Unfortunately.” She frowns before rolling her lips together.
I push myself behind her so she’s sitting between my legs and leaning against me. My right leg is half on and half off the couch, and I tap my foot as I work up the courage to see what’s going on in that beautiful brain of hers.
“What’s going on?” I undo the bun from her head, and her long locks fall free. That shit has to be heavy on her head. I start to run my fingers through her thick mane while she gathers her thoughts.
“I’m leaving tomorrow.” She sounds as sad as I feel.
I thought for sure I was going to have more time. A few more days at least.
“Tomorrow? Thanksgiving is the end of next week.” I’m pathetic.
“I know. It’s finally time for me to head back. I’ll pay for my stay up until Thanksgiving since I blocked out the time.”
Money? That’s the last thing on my mind.
“Don’t worry about the money, even for the stay.” Taking her money feels awful.
“Shut up, Harrison. I’m paying you for my stay . . . and whatever else you want.” Her voice is broken. It’s unsteady and weak.
I stop playing with her hair and grab her jaw with one hand, forcing her to look up at me.
“I don’t want your money,” I state firmly before kissing her. “You gave me something so much more than that. Don’t send me a dime over what you owe for your stay. I won’t take it.”
In a flash, Harlow is straddling me on the couch and pulling my face into hers. We urgently press our mouths together, a battle and a dance all at once.
For a breath, she pauses. “I don’t want to leave.”
Fuck, that admission feels so good. She’s saying it so it’s known, not because there’s a chance she’s staying. It’s her desire to stay.
For me, that’s enough because we both knew going into this what it was. As much as I want her to leave behind everything she has in California, I don’t expect her to. We’ve only known each other for two months.
Dad said he knew.
Hunter knew.
Could I leave here?
For the first time in my life, I actually consider it. So many of my girlfriends wanted to leave this town and I didn’t. I had my heels dug deep into my family land, unwilling to change. Could I leave all this behind for her?
I know she wouldn’t want me to. How many cattle farms are there out in Cali? They probably don’t need more.
“I know,” I whisper.
Urgent kisses turn to more and we make our way to the bedroom where I give myself to her, both body and soul.
As I press into her, I know she can feel it. She knows how I feel about her. While I move with her, I tell her how fucking perfect she is, and how good it was for her to be mine while she was. She begs me to never stop. She kisses me deeply and basks in my praise.
When we finish, we stay connected, catching our breath. Harlow’s arms wrap around my neck, and she locks her eyes with mine .
“I’m never going to forget or regret a single minute I spent with you, kid.”
“Same, witch. If I could have broken this spell, I would have done it a long time ago.”
When we separate, I feel a loss. Like I left a piece of myself in her. I think about how that will be our last time . . . but I’m wrong.
We fuck.
We make love.
We hold each other.
It’s cathartic, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.