Chapter 33
Thirty-Three
Storm
“Can I have a Cedar Hollow Kiss?” the woman beside me asks, her eyes wide, her tone dreamy.
I bite back a groan, keep sipping at my Storm Warning.
It’s definitely the best drink on the menu.
Either that or it’s because Poppy mixed it for me.
“You can have a Shepherd Hall kiss,” my teammate says, waggling his eyebrows even as he starts pulling out ingredients.
The woman giggles. “Can I have both?”
This time I do groan, but even as I do it, I keep my eye on Poppy.
She’s smiling at Shep’s antics, but she’s starting to flag. I need to get her into bed.
Luckily, the bar is quieting, only the group of female tourists that Shep is serving, Clover and Clem, and Gertie, Tommy, and Roger of the curmudgeon crew remaining.
Shep leans over the bar, busses his lips over the woman’s.
But he does it looking at Clover.
Whose cheeks flush and she looks away, jaw clenching.
And it doesn’t surprise me that she and Clem make their exit a few minutes later.
What does is that Shep stays where he’s at, mixing Cedar Hollow Kisses and watching Clover’s back as she walks out.
“You can walk her home,” Poppy murmurs. “We’re okay here.”
Shep cuts a look in her direction. Then exhales, doing some jaw clenching of his own. “Nah, she’s fine on her own.” But he’s not convincing anyone, not even himself given the doubt in his voice. Still, he’s a stubborn fuck, so he just finishes the tray of drinks and delivers it to the women.
“Shep!” Gertie calls. “Yoohoo!” She holds up her empty water glass, silently (or not so much) asking for a refill.
Poppy giggles again, but I’m too busy watching Shep dodge Gertie when she tries to feel his muscles (though, not the ones on his arms).
He yelps but manages to collect dirty glasses and close out tabs and generally make himself useful for a change.
Then the bar is empty, and we’re sweeping and mopping, wiping tables and stacking chairs.
I snag the trash and carry it to the dumpster outside, shoving the lid open enough to toss it inside.
As I’m securing the top, movement catches my focus, and I turn to see Rain walking across the dark parking lot, his footsteps clipped and his expression thunderous.
A glance behind him clues me into why that is.
Riley’s stomping away, the door to the Cedar Hollow Inn slamming shut.
“She pissed you didn’t get to the gutters?” I call.
Rain misses a step then turns and glares at me.
Then he starts walking again.
“Christ,” I mutter, and even though it’s not a very Harrison thing to do, I follow him.
And then I apologize.
Sort of.
“Look,” I say when I catch up to him. “I was an asshole.”
He snorts, keeps walking.
Jesus. Fine.
I’ll apologize for real.
I force out a breath, grit my teeth, and lean into that very un-Harrison thing. “I’m sorry.”
He skids to a stop. “You’re sorry?”
I roll my eyes. “I was a dick. I…” I stare into his eyes, look past the surly edge of his temper and see…
Fuck, I see me—edgy and tense and sad and hurt and pissed off at the world and not sure how to move forward because no one has a goddamned playbook for this fucked-up game we’ve been thrown into.
So, I take a breath.
I shove back the anger, the hurt, the years of miserable memories, and I sit in the truth—
“We’re not dad.”
He jerks.
“I tried to be,” I admit. “The last year and a half, I did my best to become him.” I suck in a breath, exhale heavily. “But turns out that it wouldn’t stick.”
“Because of Holly,” he says.
“No, because I’m not dad.” A beat as I let that sink in. For him. For me. “And neither are you.”
His eyes flare with emotion and he looks away.
“It was a low blow to accuse me of running again,” I say quietly. “You know I wouldn’t have left if I’d known. Same as I know that you needed to get the fuck out of that house in order to not get sucked into the shit that dad created.”
“I shouldn’t have left,” he whispers. “You were alone and—”
He breaks off, shakes his head.
“You were alone,” he says again.
Damn.
I exhale heavily, but for the first time in a long time, there’s not even a whisper of rage inside me.
Instead, I feel…sad. Tired. And maybe a little hopeful.
Because I’m not going to live like I was, not going keep allowing the same cycles to replay over and over and over again.
“You were a kid, Rain. You were just trying to live your life. There’s nothing to regret. ”
He clenches his jaw.
“Things were bad after you left—but they were fucked when you were here too. Nothing you did would have changed it.”
“Except if I’d stayed,” he says quietly.
Stubborn fuck.
I’m trying to extend an olive branch.
Unfortunately, he seems determined to take it from me…and then flagellate himself with it.
“By that logic, I’m just as guilty as you.
It was easier to run, to stay away, to avoid all the pain this town, that house brought.
” I sigh. “And because of that, I missed out on six years of Holly’s life.
I missed Poppy’s pregnancy. I wasn’t here to feel Holly kick inside Poppy’s belly, didn’t hear her first word, wasn’t here to hug her when she got hurt or hold Poppy’s hand when she pushed her out. ”
That sadness grows heavier.
But I don’t ignore it, don’t shove it away.
It’s part of me.
Part of why I’m going to break this fucked-up cycle.
“But I will be here for her first hockey game and to threaten her first boyfriend within an inch of his life, and I’ll watch movies and cook meals and play games and fend off Gerald and the rest of the fucking mafia from taking her bubblegum ice cream.”
He remains silent.
“I’m not leaving Cedar Hollow,” I tell him. “And I don’t need you to give me a house to make up for you just living your life.”
“You didn’t feel that way a few weeks ago,” he mutters.
“No, I didn’t. Because I was still trying to make Norm Harrison stick.” I smirk. “Turns out, I can be even more stubborn than the dead bastard.”
He chuckles.
“Still, I need it to be clear. I don’t need the house, don’t need you to do all the work—and not because my bank account is bigger than yours,” I add when his chest puffs up. “But because I’m staying.”
Quiet falls between us.
Sits heavy for long, long moments.
Then he nods and turns away.
But his terse words as he walks toward Main Street make me smile.
Make me hope.
Because they are—
“I’ll see you tomorrow at the house.”
“Nah,” I call. “Let’s meet at the lighting store. We’ll pick out some fixtures that will make the bastard squirm in his grave.”
Rain stops under the streetlight, looks back at me over his shoulder.
He’s smiling too.
Because for the first time in a decade we’re in perfect harmony.
Watch out Cedar Hollow, the Harrisons are fucking back.