by Sam Crescent
“If you can’t win someone’s favor with pancakes and bacon, are they even worth winning?”
“You think that’s what I’m doing? Winning you? Like a trophy?”
“I don’t know what you do, Jax.” She props her elbow on the granite counter and rests her chin on her hand. “You’re the one that studied strategy.”
Little good it’s doing me now. I smile at her and stir the batter. “Spoken like someone who never saw my report cards. But thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Grades are nothing compared to the raving profiles the internet keeps writing.”
My ears perk up at that. I haven’t let myself look her up, but I guess that wasn’t a mutual arrangement. Hm.
“You keeping tabs on me, Harper?”
“Unintentionally. Half your high school class reposts those things every time. Facebook makes sure I see. If you ever need an ego boost, hit up a class reunion. You’ll have actual fans.”
“And a dozen business pitches, philanthropic requests, and a hell of a bar tab.”
“High price of being stupid rich. The rest of us have to hustle if we want to eat.”
“Well, one meal down.” I pull bacon from the fridge and hold the package up for her inspection. “Two more to figure out later.”
“So, you think I’m hustling you for meals?”
“Hoping I can convince you to hustle me for a roll in the hay if the meals are up to snuff.”
She bursts into laughter, and some of the tension leaves my shoulders. Maybe I can do this. If I ever figure out what the hell this is…
Harper
The bacon’s a little too crispy, the pancakes odd shapes, but it’s the best breakfast I’ve had in weeks. Even if it is past noon when we load our plates in the dishwasher and head out. No one recognizes him in Wal-Mart, but I have to dodge a couple regular customers. By the time we walk out, he’s talked me into guiding him through the old haunts.
I pop the contraceptive pill in my mouth and swallow with a sip of cola before he pulls out of the parking lot. Jax stares at me for a second. “You really did it,” he marvels.
“What?”
“I wasn’t sure,” he admits. “Chicks do some weird shit when they think they might…”
“Get pregnant by a billionaire? Jax, don’t take this wrong, but I’ve met your grandfather. I can’t comprehend ten billion dollars, but I can damn sure picture the hell of facing him down at Christmas. ‘Hi, Mr. Hargrave, remember me? I took a decade, but I finally proved you right about being a gold-digging slut’.” My nose wrinkles. “No thanks. If I need a baby daddy, I’ll get one at the steel mill.”
“Ouch.” Jax laughs. “He’s never thought that about you.”
“So that check he wrote me for freshman year at Mo West was a sheer coincidence? And that private eye who stalked me for a month after you left was totally normal. Sure.”
The car swings wide into the next parking lot, and he stops hard. I grab the dash out of habit and stare from the abandoned movie theater and its empty marquee to Jax’s white-fingered hand on the black wheel.
“He paid you off?”
“Of course he did,” I whisper. “I thought you knew.” Since I hadn’t heard from him beyond a couple confused messages before I abandoned all my accounts. But maybe I’d just hoped his grandfather told him, and then pretended that was fact. Denial does work miracles. “It seemed like business as usual. But I felt so bad, Jax. I was seventeen, and I needed to go to school. I couldn’t afford it any other way, and I was scared…”
He closes his eyes and leans his head against the seat. “You vanished on everyone, Harper! One day your phone was off and nobody could tell me where you were.”
“I finished senior year with my dad. Moberly had a better school district, and I didn’t want any reminders. I’d have broken and started calling you.” Fidgeting with the bag, I tear one of the handles and shove it down to the floorboard.
“I’m not mad at you.” His tense posture and snarling voice say otherwise.
“So why are you looking ready to kick my ass?” I’m not afraid of him, but I know how reckless he was when we were kids. If he was hurt, he’d lash out and do something stupid. Sure, he’s an adult now, but that doesn’t mean old instincts won’t win out.
He flexes his hand and releases the wheel. “You could have turned down the money.”
“Yeah. I thought I needed it more than I needed a boyfriend.”
That makes him flinch.
“But I could have come back and found you,” he says, his voice catching on the last word. “Sorted this out in person.”
“You weren’t the kind to dispute a breakup. Or act like some kind of stalker.” I shrug off his fantasy. “I made a choice; you accepted it. That’s kinda what I loved about you. Don’t rewrite it.”
“I did know Grandfather’s a hard-nosed bastard. I should have done the math on that situation.” Jax’s hand finds mine on the console. His grip is light, far more careful than I expect. I stay still. The other shoe’s going to drop. This is where he tells me thanks, now vanish and stay out of my sight.
“The end problem would have still been the same.”
“Probably. But I’m sorry for the pain,” he says. My throat almost closes. I clear it and wipe at my cheek.
“I’m sorry for yours, too.” He studies me as I speak, and the silence draws out after.
I don’t know what else to say. Is it even possible for him to understand the terror that comes with watching your parents crumble under the debts they’ll never pay? Looking ahead and seeing nothing but the plant or the mine, and all the walls you’ll never escape? That money was the only security I’d been offered in so long. What was love to keeping the power on through the winter, and eating something aside from ramen? At seventeen that check felt like the only lifeline I’d ever get.
But what comes out is: “I wish I’d at least said goodbye. You deserved an explanation.”
“That would have helped.” We lapse into quiet again, listening to the rumbling coal trucks and whirring engines passing by on the main road. “It was bad back then, wasn’t it? I knew your dad wasn’t working or something…”
He’s trying to convince himself I didn’t have a choice. I cringe. “He got laid off. They were losing the house. Uncle Charlie saved the day, but I felt so powerless … and your grandpa had this huge check, just holding it out.” I wipe my cheek, but to my surprise Jax squeezes my hand.
“He knew the position you were in. He played you. I’m not going to sit here hating a teenager for choosing security. Or for running away. We aren’t those kids anymore.” Jax’s posture shifts, his shoulders squaring before he runs his thumb across the old mark on my wrist. “Harper, I’m just here for a couple more days.” Our eyes meet. I don’t like hearing it out loud, and for that second, I think maybe he doesn’t like saying it either. “I was going to ask if you’d help me get Grandpa Delaney’s papers sorted out and the necessary stuff packed up. Figured you could use the extra cash, and I’d get to be near you. But I don’t want to be your employer. I want … to spend time with you.”
“So you’re hoping I’ll help you pack up and accept payment in sex? Cheap ass.” I grin, and after a startled blink, he does, too.
“It’s that or pay you and have you say I’m paying you for sex.”
“You should. I’m fucking amazing at getting you off.”
“No argument here.”
I bite my lower lip. Next month’s mortgage bill scrolls through my head in neon yellow and black. “How about I take the packing gig, and we keep the sex ‘til after hours. When I’m not on the clock. It’s two days, right? Not like you’re planning on denying me a promotion up the ladder next quarter.”
“Long as you don’t ask me for a letter of reference for your next boyfriend.”
“Fuck buddy,” I correct him. His eyes glint before he smiles.
“Technically I’ve held both positions, boss.”
“Oh,
you’ll get a wide variety of positions, gorgeous,” I drawl in a lowered voice, making him laugh.
Two days, and then back to life as usual. I can handle it.
****
Three days later, I admit the truth. I’m an idiot. Jax keeps moving his departure—the wrap-up for the Delaney estate isn’t as easy or quick as he’d hoped. I don’t dare hope he’s dragging his feet for other reasons. But I’ve had the last stay of execution: he has to be in New York soon for an immovable meeting. He’s leaving the day after tomorrow. I’m staring at a pile of old-fashioned farm ledgers, leaning against a massive mahogany desk, my plebeian butt sitting on a rug that probably cost more than my car. And all I can think of is getting up and walking into the game room where Jax is taking a call from Switzerland. I want to run my hands over his firm muscles and down to his waist. Get his attention with my mouth on his cock through his pants. I want him, and I know I need to stop.
I can’t get used to this. To him. I’m a weekend fling at best, an unhealthy coping mechanism at worst. Either way, I’m going to be on my own and back to normal life in two days. Forty-eight hours. Less than. My stomach ties itself in another knot.
And it’s his fucking fault. When the call came in, he leaned in and kissed my cheek. “You got this?” he asked, like my opinion mattered. Like I did. He ruffled my hair and called me baby before he got up and walked out, phone to his ear.
Here I am. Waiting. Aching. Missing him before he’s even gone. I’m pathetic. This is stupid. I rub my hands over my face and thump my head back against the desk. I knew what I was getting into. I can’t whine now.
“Baby, you ready for dinner?” Jax leans against the door, smiling, phone held carelessly in one hand. I can’t stop my smile even though I’m breaking my own damned heart.
“I should go home and check on Mom.”
“I’ll take you.” He pauses. “You think Kayla can’t handle her?”
My mom’s sick. Liver cancer, stage three. Not operable. It’s not like I’m alone in handling her every day—a nurse comes by, and Mom can use her walker just fine. But she’s starting to get more confused. Chemo brain, they call it. And if the chemo doesn’t get things done soon, well… Kayla’s here for the week to give me more of a break, and alleviate her own guilt for not being able to quit her job and move home. I haven’t told Jax all of that. I don’t tell most people.
“I don’t know. I think she can, but I don’t want to just … walk off and leave her holding the bag. Even for a weeknight.” Kayla can’t live here, but my sister’s never failed to answer her phone and field one of my meltdowns when the stress gets too much for me. “I don’t know that she understood how things … what it might be like.”
Jax settles on the carpet next to me and slides his arm across my shoulders. “It’s getting bad, huh?”
“Not yet. But I can see the bad parts coming.”
“Try not to look at them too much. Sometimes I think I spent so much time focusing on logistics with Grandpa that I missed the time before.”
I wipe my face, but I lean against him. “Thanks. But I can’t waste time moping, I have a job to finish. And you need to figure out what the hell you’re doing with all these papers. You know if I was halfway good at numbers, I’d probably have a load of blackmail material on your family.”
“Only the Delaneys, and they’re all halfway broke now.” He kisses my temple. “But I trust you not to give a shit about that.”
“Says the guy who hasn’t seen my credit card bills.”
“I never said I didn’t think you could spend money.” He chuckles and ruffles my hair before releasing me.
Jax
“I can’t go with you,” Harper announces as I walk into the living room. The last two days we’ve been packing or in bed. I just spent a long meeting nodding about financial arrangements and trying not to think about Harper. Now, finding her in the upstairs parlor, I can’t take my eyes off her. She’s in an oversize shirt that falls off her shoulders and yoga pants, and my eyes are locked on her breasts. Which is amazing, since they’re not visible, hidden by a bulky shirt and a bra. But she’s here, they’re here, and I’m apparently desperate to see them.
“Where?” I settle on Grandfather’s giant sage green couch, a few inches between us, close enough I can smell her vanilla lotion and watch the light play across her cheekbone when she tilts her head downward. She isn’t looking at me. I reach for her, but she flinches. I let my hand fall. “You don’t want to hit a movie tonight?”
“I meant New York.”
I sigh. Thought we had another day—maybe two, if I played off delaying my departure again—before we got to this conversation. “I didn’t think you would.”
Pain flashes in her sky-blue eyes, and she wipes her cheek. “You weren’t going to ask me, were you?”
“No.”
“That’s … harsh.” She sniffles and pulls further away. “I knew this was just a weekend fling but—”
“Harper, you can’t go. I’m not the asshole who asks a woman to abandon a cancer patient parent! Come on. Even I’m—”
“Don’t use Mom as your excuse.” The words are sharp as a knife, and this time, I’m the one moving back, as if a few more inches will blunt her anger.
“Fine. I wouldn’t ask you because you’re fucking terrified of the city. And society pages. I can’t wave a magic wand and give you that confidence—you have to build it on your own. Or you have to want me enough to risk it. But honestly … a new relationship has enough shitty pitfalls, I don’t want to add gossip columns.”
Instead of reassuring her, the speech adds another sob, and she puts her face in her hands. I’m frozen, instincts yelling at me to embrace her, but familiarity with her temperament telling me to stay out of arm’s reach.
“So this is revenge? Make me care and walk away, just to teach me a lesson!” She rears up, practically spitting the words at me. “Now it’s my fault. My family, my insecurity—a whole list of excuses and all on my account. You don’t want me, but it’s for my own good. Just like your grandfather.” She’s on her feet and rushing toward the doorway.
I should let her go. Give her the time to calm down, breathe. Think. But she’s crying, and I’m a goddamn idiot about her. I take a breath to figure out what the hell I’m going to do, then get up and run after her like some soap opera numbskull.
If the NYC society columnists could see me now, we’d be on the front page for a year.
She’s on the stairs, barely two yards ahead of me, and the world stops. She wobbles, coming down too hard on the ankle she sprained last summer—she’d laughed when she told me the story—and pitches sideways on the curving staircase.
“Harper!” I can’t reach her. She slams into the bannister, shrieking, and the thud as she hits the stairs knocks the wind out of my lungs. She falls backward, sliding down, her head thumping against the unforgiving wood. I catch hold of her trembling shoulder as I kneel on the steps next to her. She groans. Her eyes slant open and blink. Focus. “Harper, babe, you okay? Stay still.”
“I’m fine. I hate you.”
“That’s the embarrassment talking.” She’s allowed to hate whatever she wants until we know if she’s broken anything. “Just keep talking.”
Her cheeks go from ivory to rose, and she shoves my hand away to sit up with a pained noise. “Fuck off. Pity eyes are worse than you being a dick.”
“Catch your breath, then worry about insulting me.” I drape an arm around her shoulders that she doesn’t shrug off. “Can you stand up? I’m taking you to the urgent care.”
“My ankle’s weird, that’s all. And I’m going to have some bruises. No point in a doctor.” Despite the bravado, she lets me help her up and uses my arm to steady her balance as she limps down the last few steps. I leave her on the sitting room couch and grab some frozen peas from the kitchen. A pillow goes under her leg and I slap the bag of peas on her ankle.
“Sorry, sweetheart. Steve cleaned out the first aid ki
t last week when he got hungover. I’ll send him for fresh ice packs.”
“No need. I’m not staying.” Her arms cross defensively, but after a second she reaches down to adjust the bag of peas. “Just like you.”
“Really?” My eyes roll, and I pull the extra key from my pocket, dropping it onto the cushion by her leg. “Just in case, you should take this.”
“What?”
“A key.”
Her brows lower into a deadly scowl. “To what, Captain Sarcasm?”
“The front door.”
“Of where?” Her bright eyes are almost as dazed as they were minutes before. I lean in and touch her temple.
“Where do you think?”
A line forms between her brows and I hate myself a little for teasing her, but she’s so damn cute I can’t help it. “Are you trying to make me strangle you today?” She lifts one of the extra throw pillows, so I delicately pull it from her grip.
“I want you to have a key to this place. Since I’m staying in town a while, this house works well as anywhere for now. I already got cable laid ages ago, so I have the connection I need for work. Figure you should have a key if you’re going to be staying over this often.”
“I…” My hand covers her mouth, and she stops talking. Waits. I smile.
“You can’t leave your mom, but my work’s pretty mobile. I may have to be gone a lot, but if you can handle some sexting and snaps here and there…”
“This is real? Seriously real?” Harper’s red-rimmed eyes widen as she lifts the key in a shaky hand. “Y-you want … you and me? This is a thing?”
“Yes, sweetheart. This is a thing. But it isn’t final. If you’d rather break it off now, call it quits…”
“Never!” She catches herself and laughs, then lunges for me, spilling the stacked pillows and thawing peas onto the floor. I get hold of her waist and shove her back into the sofa, but follow with my body until I’m holding her, half splayed across the displaced cushions while she kisses me into forgetting her fall. I barely stop my hands from squeezing her hips. “Maybe, once things settle here … you and me … I could handle city life. With a lot of vacations. Learn how to handle your friends…”