Chapter 22
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
HARMONY
“What happened?” Heart drumming, Harmony followed as Dani steered Preston to a tall stool behind the main counter.
He banged his shin into it before settling, tipping his head back and pinching the bridge of his nose, which was not stemming all the fucking blood streaming from it. “Shit. What happened to my glasses?”
“What happened to you ?” Harmony was trying very hard not to yell, even as Dani spoke over her.
“I got them, babe, but you’re not going to want anything touching that.” Dani grabbed about half of a box of tissues from behind the counter and handed them to Preston.
“That awful man punched him.” Rosey dumped the jumbled box of dress-up clothes on the counter. “In the face .”
Harmony had gathered it was in the face. She looked back toward the entrance, where Alice still stood, wide-eyed. “What man?”
“Raymond Vickes.” Preston’s voice was muffled by tissues and horribly wet-sounding.
“Ellie’s husband?” Brewer of pale ale and peddler of the world’s worst calamari? The contract he’d signed was among those she’d just turned in for the festival. “Why the hell —”
“The Vickeses have complained in the past about my storytime,” Rosey said. “He confronted me outside. Blocked me from my car.”
Preston pulled the mass of bloody tissues tentatively away from his face. “He took a swing at her. Who punches a woman?” His eyes were watering, and his nose was still bleeding. A lot. He clamped down on it again.
“He tried to punch me. Preston was very gallant.” Rosey pursed her lips. “Should’ve punched him back, though.”
Through his mountain of tissues, Preston growled, “I’m a pacifist .”
“Where’s Raymond?” Harmony asked, her voice charged. At some point Alice had come up beside her. She slipped her hand around Harmony’s, which she realized now was shaking.
“He took off,” Dani said. “Probably knows assaulting a cis white guy from town looks worse to the cops.”
Rosey huffed. “Coward.”
“The Vickeses are out of the festival,” Harmony blurted.
Alice tugged her back, murmuring just to her, “Hon, no one’s actually in—”
“ I don’t care .” She’d find some other way to strike back at him, she knew plenty of scams. Her heart was still racing, her heated blood chugging through her like a steam train.
A crowd was gathering, a couple of the library staff and others looking on with concern. Dani was emptying the tissue box. “Here, babe.”
Trading out tissues, Preston looked down at himself. “Oh, fuck,” he said low, with feeling. “Don’t let Lacey see this. She hates blood.” Harmony wasn’t too fond of it herself, not when it was Preston’s and all over his pressed shirt instead of safely inside him where it belonged and she was going to destroy Raymond Vickes.
Dani took the bloodied tissues and tossed them. “I’ll get Lacey—”
“Take her home. Don’t tell her anyone’s hurt. Oh, and she didn’t eat, she’ll need—”
“I’ve got her, Preston. And I’ll make sure Rosey makes it home safe.” Dani held out Preston’s battered glasses to Harmony with a questioning look.
“I’ve got him.” Harmony took the glasses. With a sharp nod, Dani went off to find Lacey. Finally there was room, and Harmony was at Preston’s side. She wrapped her hand around his shoulder. “Come on, you need ice on that nose and pain meds. Let’s get you home.”
Alice helped her get him into the car. She shut the door after Preston and gave Harmony a quick hug. “Call you soon.”
Harmony settled everything into the back, tucking Preston’s glasses carefully into her purse. When she slipped into the driver’s side, her hands gripped the steering wheel hard.
“Harmony?” Only when Preston spoke did she realize she’d been sitting there, trying to breathe. “Worried I’m going to get blood on your leather seats?”
“Nope. Because you’re not going to.” She started Furiosa. “You can’t see, but I’m narrowing my eyes at you very hard.” She was, in fact, checking her mirrors and half wishing Raymond would wander back into the parking lot. Definitely not so she could run him down. Though she did have three fake passports and knew where to find a kiln that would leave no evidence. With a deep breath that was more like a shudder, she backed up carefully. Preston was going to be fine. It was ridiculous for her to be so upset.
Except when she caught her own eye in the mirror, it hit her that of course she was deeply upset, because she cared deeply about Preston. Far more than she’d admitted to herself, even while she stole into his life and made his problems hers, while she told herself it didn’t matter because it could never go anywhere.
Lucky for her, he was busy not bleeding all over the car, so while she took him home she managed to compose herself and not think too much about the dead end she’d driven her heart into.
She guided him straight to the kitchen, where he dug an ice pack out of the freezer and wrapped it in a towel. He leaned back against the counter, wincing, as Harmony found him some ibuprofen and a glass of water.
When he set down the smudged glass, he grimaced, and went to wash his hands.
Harmony chased him with the ice pack. “Hey, get this back on there.”
“ Not now .” His outburst was loud in the quiet kitchen. He shook her off and kept scrubbing, his strained voice growing more intense than she’d ever heard him. “Need to clean up.” He took off his jacket and slung it over a chair at the little breakfast table, then reached for his first shirt button. “ Ugh .”
“Preston.” She pressed the ice pack into his hands. “You hold this; let me help.” She took over unbuttoning. “You’ll be glad you iced it when your face doesn’t turn purple tonight.”
She swore she could feel his heart hammering under her fingers. “Thanks.” He sagged back against the counter, sounding more miserable than he had when his nose was still bleeding everywhere. At least the ice was back on his face, though his eyes peering over it were ringed with stark worry that she was sure hadn’t been there before—anger for Rosey, concern for Lacey, that was all. “And sorry. I’m sorry.” His other hand was shaking, drumming the air.
“It’s okay.” She helped him out of the ruined shirt. Maybe it was like a delayed reaction. “You got punched. You’re allowed to be out of sorts.”
He inhaled, and the fear in his eyes melted away at her reassurance. “Thanks. The blood.”
“Yeah.” She tossed the shirt in the sink to deal with later.
His bare shoulders shrugged, almost a shudder. “Fucking messy.”
A relieved laugh cracked from her chest. Except it was something more like a sob.
“Hey.” Preston’s free hand stroked up and down her arm.
What was wrong with her today? Harmony did not panic. But Harmony didn’t catch feelings either. “I’m glad you’re okay.” She hid her face against Preston’s chest, hugging him. “I was really scared for a minute there at the library,” she admitted.
His hand paused on her arm before wrapping around and holding her. “Yeah, I was right there with you, about a split-second before Raymond’s fist made contact.”
“I can’t believe someone was that upset over a storytime.”
His hand on her back made little soothing circles. “This has happened at other libraries. Places have had full protests or had to cancel because of threats. I always walk Rosey in and out.”
“You always take such good care of everyone.” She wanted to be one of those people he cared for, because she was a terrible selfish monster who just took whatever she wanted and was making Preston comfort her when he was the one who’d just been hurt. “Like worrying more about Lacey than your own actual face. She’s lucky to have you.”
“No.” He tensed against her.
She leaned back, wrinkling her nose up at him. “Of course she is. Oh, come here, I’ll wash that sticky blood off your face if you promise to hold the ice on as much as possible.” He wasn’t going to feel better until he was all cleaned up and put back together. She sat him at the table and grabbed a wet paper towel before pulling a chair up facing him.
“I don’t think it’s that bad, actually,” Preston said. “Just a lot of blood. He wasn’t aiming for me, at least at first.”
Harmony pulled away his hand holding the ice and dabbed gently. “He’s still on my shit list.”
“A fearsome prospect.”
“You just take care of that beautiful face of yours. Doctor’s orders.” She let go of his hand, and he applied the ice again.
“And where’d you get your medical degree, Doctor Harmony?”
“Mmm.” She turned to toss the towel in the sink too. “Bar fight I got caught too close to once.” Right in the middle of it, actually. She’d been eighteen, still in school and partially surviving off drinks and bar food she could get people to buy her, plus swiping cash from drunks as the night went on. They normally didn’t notice till she was long gone.
Preston’s eyes crinkled gently. “Bet you won.”
“I always win.” But then, she’d made a habit of only playing games she could rig. Everything had somehow gotten so much more complicated lately. “There’s going to be some bruising. You’ll have to explain something to Lacey.”
He sighed. “I just don’t want her to worry. She has nightmares sometimes, still.”
“She is lucky to have you.” Harmony bit her lip before adding, “Anyone with you in their life is.”
He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Those pain meds better kick in soon. Unless Preston’s discomfort was with the idea of Harmony being in his life for longer than a few months. Now she was uncomfortable, with a sensation like snakes slithering all over her skin, into her gut. Shit, feelings were the worst. But this was not the time to demand more or invite rejection. Preston needed taking care of right now. She reassured him she wasn’t pushing her way in, laying her hand over his on the table beside them, bringing things back to Lacey. “A kid could end up a lot worse off, both parents dead.” At least Harmony had been old enough to watch out for herself by the time she’d been left alone. She had always been fine alone.
“My dad’s not dead.”
“What?” Harmony sat up straight. She’d assumed— “Then where is he?” This was one too many shocks in a single afternoon. She leaned near Preston again. “He’s not dead?”
“He’s an electrician in Sacramento.”
“Sacramento? That’s like—” Preston was doing that thing where his voice went very flat and hollow, and she knew he must be tired and in pain but what? “Then why the hell isn’t he here?”
Suddenly Preston’s voice wasn’t empty at all but steeled with anger. “I don’t want him anywhere around her.”
Shit. She wasn’t going to push, but then she goddamn pushed, and it was none of her business. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“Lucky,” he huffed, with a ghost of bitterness. Face half hidden behind the ice pack, casting his gaze down at the tablecloth he was practically shredding with his thumbnail, Preston said, “I’m the reason Lacey doesn’t have anyone else.”
That was just ridiculous. “You ran your mom off the road?”
He shook his head, still staring at the tablecloth. “My father would jump straight to the strictest therapies for Lacey, he’d be on her case about how she is. Make her change.” He swallowed. “I was kind of a handful, growing up. Meltdowns. Screaming. Not the son my father envisioned. Like that just now—” He jerked his head toward the sink. “Losing it over mud, or grass, or a shirt tag, whatever, he’d hate that. But yelling only made it worse.”
Harmony squeezed Preston’s hand.
“My parents fought over what to do. They were young. A year out of high school when they had me. They put me in this one therapy the state offered, hours and hours every day, but then my mom pulled me out. And they fought over that. She saw how miserable it was making me, spending all my time training to act—not so different. He said that was good.” Preston cleared his throat. “But I sort of figured out how to manage, and I was going to go to college. So they had another baby. We were all going to get a clean start.”
About a thousand choice swear words were battling to get out from behind Harmony’s teeth, which she clenched hard.
Preston lifted his unfocused gaze to her now. “My father left as soon as Lacey showed signs of autism. He wasn’t sticking around for that again, didn’t even stick around long enough to find out she’s brilliant and not at all the same deal. She’s going to do amazing things, I just have to keep getting her what she needs—” He frowned, dropping the ice pack to his lap. “You rolled your eyes. I can see that much. Why did you roll your eyes? She is brilliant—”
“I know.”
“She is .”
“Preston, I know she is, just like her brother when he’s not too busy being a fool.” She lifted the ice pack back to his face. Why were the best people so hard on themselves, when plenty of jerks ran around completely thoughtless of the damage they did?
Preston screwed his eyes shut against the touch of the ice. “I fucked everything up for her. If I hadn’t been the way I was, who knows what her life might have been? I just don’t want to fuck it up for her any more than I already did.”
Harmony had never been very good at holding back, and words spilled from her now, burning in her throat. “This was not your fault. Sounds to me your dad left because, unfortunately, some people are trash and betray everything they should be to you.” Like Travis had done to his business partner.
Like Harmony was doing to Preston, lying to him. Her stomach pinched. But, she realized, she wanted to be better. Even if she wasn’t sure how. “Sounds like Lacey is a lot better off with you,” she told him. “And I like you the way you are.” He opened his eyes. The trust in them made her think of the worry they held before. “Wait, is that why you were apologizing for no reason? Did you think I was going to mind that the feeling of blood bothered you more than actually getting hurt?”
His head listed to one side. “It’s an old impulse. Not to let people see that.”
Because they’d taught him to hold himself back. These were the same therapies he’d mentioned at the library once, trying to—to erase Preston. She set aside the fury that stoked in her. “You’re supposed to say tequila,” she reminded him. His brow rippled. “The code word? If you need space.” She brushed her thumb over the back of his hand. “But you don’t have to hide yourself,” she murmured. “Not from me.”
He set the ice pack on the table and gathered her hand up in both of his. “Harmony, I think I—” He seemed to swallow down whatever he’d been about to say. “I’m really glad you’re here.”
If seeing Preston hurt had sent fear and anger marching through her, the way he was looking at her as he said that filled her with a fizzing, swelling happiness that almost made her chest hurt and spread a smile across her face. Maybe feelings weren’t so bad. “So am I.”
“Oh, shit.” His face fell. “I was going to take you to Café Marotta tonight.”
She held the ice out. “Foiled again.”
He sulked as he returned it to what was looking like not too bad a bruise running from his nose under his left eye. “It’s really romantic.”
“I like the sound of that. We should go when you can enjoy it.” She stood and dropped a kiss to his sweet forehead. “Properly.” She went to wash the glass. The bloody fingerprints were grossing her out a little bit too, honestly. “But I like hanging out with you at home too.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She left the glass in the rack and turned around with a grin. “I don’t get to see your tits at fancy restaurants.” She wanted to make him laugh, which he did, but in fact Preston’s torso, narrow but defined, made her want to run her hands all over him.
“There’s no dress code at my house, if you want to take advantage of that too.”
She laughed now, low and appreciative. “Don’t you think you’d better take it easy there, mister?”
He slumped on the table, resting his head on one propped elbow. “I got punched. Be nice to me.”
“Oh, I’ll take care of you.”
He took her up on this, in a decidedly unsexy way, insisting on stain treating the shirt Harmony had figured was a loss and tossing it in the laundry. She allowed him to direct her through the steps as long as he kept icing his poor face. Once it seemed like it had been long enough, she dug out his glasses, which were scuffed a bit around the frames, and he went upstairs and showered.
She was exploring one of the bookshelves when he came down in a soft T-shirt and sweats that Harmony was pretty sure were his pajamas. He answered a text from Dani, checking in and letting him know Lacey was good, and wandered over to the piano, where he seemed to just play around, until he grabbed a pencil to jot down notes between running through a silvery melody taking shape, again and again. Christ, this man.
Eventually Harmony danced her way over to him, the volume of Millay she’d picked out balanced on her head, making that musing, dreamy look of his turn on her and grow into a smile. They cozied up on the couch together, each with a book, sharing lines they liked or that made them laugh, while the windows went fully dark and they waited for the pizza they’d ordered to arrive.
Preston, predictably, made them eat at the dining table rather than the couch, and so it was there they opened the box to find their thin-crust Neapolitan cut into farcically large slices.
“This isn’t a slice of pizza,” Preston declared, lifting a slice bigger than his head. “This is a bedsheet .”
“Big as a continent. At least Australia.”
Preston’s eyes flashed. “Your ego.”
Harmony almost choked laughing. When they’d finished, she took the leftovers to the kitchen. Preston was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, as she closed the fridge. Her purse was still on the table. She asked him, “Do you want to get some rest?”
“Yeah.” Made sense. He’d had a rough day. She nodded, while he fidgeted with the hem of his sleeve at his bicep. “Stay?”
“Yeah?” Another rush, like golden sunlight through her veins.
“Yeah.” As Preston padded across the tile floor toward her, Harmony thought maybe his wanting her here made her so happy because it meant she was a part of that same feeling for him that he created for her, that he felt safe and cared for and okay being himself with her. He trusted her.
And as he slid his hands over her hips and up her back, pulling her into a hug, tucking her head under his chin, for once she didn’t see that as a sign of a sucker. Maybe it was because she’d earned that trust. Maybe it was because it meant she was actually someone deserving of it.
When he leaned back and tilted his head down to kiss her, she realized that wasn’t true. But maybe it could be. “Hold on.” She wanted him to be honest with her. She couldn’t keep lying to him.
“I knew it.” Preston sighed dramatically and eased off. “I’m too ugly now to kiss.”
“Back to being a fool, I see.” That was a horrible way to start off. She pecked him on the cheek, safely on his unbruised side. He angled his head to brush his lips over hers. “Only—I need to tell you something.” Oh, god, why was she doing this when his hands were back on her hips and she could be kissing him by now? “I’ve been bullshitting. Not about us—” His brows had shot up, and his hands dropped to his sides. Hers wanted to pull him back against her but clenched against her stomach. She stared down at the black and white checkerboard tiles.
Preston lifted her chin with one finger, like he was holding back from touching her as much as he wanted until she gave him permission again.
If he still wanted to after she said this. “The festival.”
He heaved a little relieved sigh. “I know.”
“You—you know?” She swayed a little, anchored only by the barest touch of his finger on her jaw.
He squinted a steely stare at her. “I have a master’s in library and information sciences. I know how to research.” He dipped his head to one side as if admitting something himself. “Plus, a lot of my undergrad classmates are in the industry. I know all about the headliner. Funny story—” He must have seen the anxiety on her face, because he stopped and said, “It’s all right. I understand.”
That didn’t make sense. “You really don’t have a problem with it?” Jeez, she knew she was hot but she’d seriously done a number on him. Though she supposed he had every reason to hate the Weavers too.
His finger traced up her jaw. “Harmony, the only thing bothering me right now is that I don’t have my hands all over you.”
That should have been good enough for her. She wanted those hands. “What do you understand?” Stupid rule-following all over her.
“That you have to spread a big name around to drum up interest, even if they haven’t actually signed on, until you secure a good headliner and all the acts.” His fingers feathered through her hair. “Work your magic.”
“Right.” She swallowed and said, “Right, exactly.”
It had been foolish to try to confess. What did she think would happen if he actually knew? She didn’t want to be some fake Harmony anymore with Preston, but if she told the truth she’d only be a liar to him. She’d only hurt him. What she needed was to figure out some other way to stop lying. She couldn’t tell him everything right now, but she could promise that.
The idea of there being no more faking between them excited her nearly as much as Preston’s gaze searing into her. That trust beaming down from his poor bruised face made her believe she could somehow do it. Like he said, she was good at everything.
And Preston was very good at winding his hand through her hair and caressing that spot just behind her ear, making it hard to think, making her go fizzing and golden everywhere under his touch and through her blood.
“Well. I just wanted to be sure to tell you.” She leaned into his hand, seeking out more of that touch. “Because I’d pretended before. And you should know—” His knuckles grazed her cheek. “What I feel for you is real.”
His hand slipped around the nape of her neck, drawing her into a kiss she wanted more than she deserved, and was determined to find a way to be worthy of.