by Kate Stewart
“Round,” Tony yells as both men exhale, retreating to their corners. Nick’s eye is swelling as Lance swishes and spits a mouthful of blood.
Trevor’s whispers carry slightly as he encourages his brother. I’m on the edge of my senses, admittedly and ridiculously turned on at the display of testosterone. Both men are in insanely good physical condition, and I’m having a horrible time keeping my head in the fight, instead of in my overactive sexual imagination. I think of the first time Lance made me come, the intensity in his eyes, the way his lips felt, the feel of him on top of me. And later, when he pressed into me for the first time, the burn, the ache I felt for him after. The ache I feel now just watching him.
Does she belong to you?
No.
But I do. Head and heart, body and soul. I need him. He needs me, and I can’t do anything but pray he comes to the same conclusion.
He’s hurting me in a way he never has before with his denial. It’s bitterness going down and numbing my heart. I would do anything to erase it. To drown the pain with the love I feel. I’m not giving up. But it appears, he isn’t either.
Tony calls the next round as Lance’s family and I watch him exhaust himself, throwing himself into the fight as if his life depends on it. Nick taps out at the end of the round, and Tony proudly declares Lance is ready.
He will reign the ring. That, I’m sure of.
And the only place I want to be when that happens, is by his side.
But on this day, he leaves the ring silent and alone.
Lance
“Damn,” Trevor says as Harper enters the living room from her bedroom.
“You look beautiful,” Mom chimes in as I keep my head down. I’m set up at the kitchen table with Dad’s books. I’ve got hours of this shit to work on before I can get some sleep. I don’t bother looking up as Harper thanks them both, walking past me toward the kitchen while the scent of vanilla drifts to my nose. I won’t even entertain this bullshit, this attempt to make me jealous.
“I’m going to grab some coffee to go if that’s okay?” Harper asks from the kitchen.
“Sure, sweetie, I have a new travel mug in the cabinet. It says ‘Beautiful and Badass.’”
Harper laughs. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Out of my periphery, I see her struggle to reach the mug. Pushing away from the table, I walk into the kitchen and feel her freeze when she senses me behind her. I extend my arm above her, and she turns to face me and softly says, “Of course.”
Unwilling to try and decipher whatever that means, I snatch the cup from the shelf, feeling her eyes on my profile.
“Please, look at me.” I lower my gaze to hers and see her eyes brimming with tears. They’re outlined in dark shadow, her lashes curled up, making her look painfully innocent. She looks beautiful in a light pink sweater and jeans. Her long hair flows over her shoulders. “I miss you. Please come with us.”
“I’ve got shit to do.” I hand her the mug and catch the slight wobble of her chin. I capture it between my fingers, trying my best to ignore the shimmer of her lips, the sting of her tears. “If this is too much to handle, I understand if you pass the bar and head on out.”
“Please stop punishing me. I just want to go and have a good time.”
“Then go.”
“I’m not doing it to make you jealous.”
“We aren’t together.”
“I belong to you.”
“Stop,” I snap. “I need to get back to work.”
“Please come with us.”
“No.”
She slowly lifts before pressing a kiss to my jaw. “I love you.”
“Have a good time, Harper.”
“She’s twenty-two,” Mom pipes up when the front door closes. I look up from the books to see both of my parents’ eyes on me.
“Drop it.”
“You need to get your head out of your ass, son,” Dad says. And that will be the only thing he says. He’s not much with words, and we’re alike that way.
“Lance,” Mom says, drawing my attention to her. “She’s still a baby. She’s still sorting herself out.”
“Drop it.”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, you little shit. You’re still my kid, and you’ll give me the respect I deserve.”
“Sorry.” I drop my eyes back to the books.
“She’s been working her ass off for the last ten days trying to prove herself to you, to this family, and you just can’t stop giving her hell.”
“Mom, please just stay out of it.”
“You need to give her some grace, room to grow.”
“Mom!” I say, boiling over. “It’s not your business.”
Standing from the couch, fists at her sides, her eyes narrow in the scariest of ways. My mother does something she hasn’t done in years. She…moms me.
“Lance Alexander Prescott, get your damned ass in that truck right now and go have a beer!” Laughter bursts from me as she walks over to the table and snatches the books up. “I’ve got this.”
“Mom, stop, okay? I know you all love her, but it’s just not going to work out.”
“You love her, you fool. And you’re throwing her love away, to what? Prove you don’t need anyone? Bullshit. Get up! Get up! Now!”
“Fine,” I huff, standing and making my way down the hall where she trails after me. I know my mother, she’s long-winded when she’s pissed, and it’s apparent I’m in deep shit.
“I’ve had enough of this crap. You won’t listen to anyone. You need to snap the hell out of it. You think parading around on a pedestal makes you the more mature adult? You think throwing judgment at me and your father for our past mistakes makes you a better decision-maker?”
I pull a hoodie on and gape at her. “I’m not judging you.”
“Bullshit. The way you’re talking to me,” she points to the living room, “to the man who’s given you everything,” her voice wavers, and my heart cracks right down the middle. “We’re your parents. Us. And Harper’s heart isn’t the only one you’re breaking.”
“Hey, Dad,” Trevor calls from the front door. “Got you some of the ice cream you like.”
My mother’s eyes water as she steps up to me. “I’ve never been so proud in my life as I have of you boys in the last year, but no matter what happens, Lance, no matter what happens to this damned ranch, we have each other. And I won’t lose you to this. So, keep it up, I’ll sell this damned thing out from under you.”
“What?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Anger simmers low as she faces me head-on. “You heard right. Your father and I have been discussing it. We’re thinking about selling.”
“Why?”
“Because it’s not worth losing our son!” She cries out hoarsely.
“What’s going on?” Trevor enters the room and looks between the both of us.
“Tell him,” I demand as my mother’s tears fall. “Tell him what you just told me.”
“Trevor, give your brother and I some privacy.”
“No, tell him you’re thinking about selling his birthright because his brother is fucking it all up!”
“That’s not what I said.”
“Is that true?” Trevor looks between us for answers, and I give a gruff nod. I can feel his heart breaking from feet away.
“Don’t you dare, Mom,” Trevor pleads with her. “We’ve been working day and night. Haven’t we, Lance?” He looks to me helplessly, and I feel the failure down to the center of me.
“I won’t let you lose yourself the way your father did,” Mom whispers, her eyes on mine. “I won’t let it drag you down anymore. You deserve the life you choose.”
“I choose this life, over and over again,” I swallow.
“Then don’t let it eat you alive.” She walks over to Trevor and grips his face. “Neither of you.”
“I won’t, Mom, I swear,” Trevor assures her, his eyes spilling over. It’s the look on his face that is eating me alive.
“Don’t, Mom,” I swallow again and again, “don’t do it. Please, don’t do it.”
“Then prove to me you can handle it,” she says between the both of us. “Without losing yourselves.” She peers over at me with my eyes. “You always told me you didn’t want to be one thing, right?”
I nod, feeling the rug being ripped out from under me, just another thing I can’t control.
“Then don’t be one thing.” She leaves Trevor shaking in her wake, and I walk over to where he stands.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let it happen.”
He wipes his face. “What are you doing? When’s it going to be enough?”
“Dad—”
“You’re my Dad,” he interrupts. “I lost him years ago. You had to take over, and I’m sorry for that,” his voice cracks, and he shakes his head. “I can’t lose you too.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“What the hell are you saying…you’re halfway gone already.”
He kicks at the edge of my dresser and scrubs his face. “I just went to get ice cream. What the fuck happened?”
Harper. Harper happened.
Harper
Tossing back a shot with Tony, he grins over at me as I turn the glass over and set it next to the others. “I needed this.”
“Me too.”
I pinch the edge of the stick and take aim, the way Tony taught me. “Three ball, corner pocket.”
“You’re stripes this round.”
“Crap.”
I reposition, take a shot, and miss as Tony steps up for his turn.
Nick sits silently in the corner of the ripped pleather booth, next to where we shoot, his face swollen from rounds of Lance’s brutal blows. My insides match his outsides, feeling just as battered. But I refuse to dwell on it tonight as I look around the decade’s past-prime bar feeling the upbeat vibe before glancing over to Nick.
He’s got an easy smile, but he’s not much for words, much like his recent opponent. Though he has caught the eye of one of the women in the booth adjacent to us. They’ve been going back and forth with lingering looks for the last few songs. “Hey, you,” I say to Nick, who draws his eyes from hers to look at me. I push two of the shots his way. “Take one over to her.”
“Not a bad idea.” He winks in thanks, and I giggle. Vodka does that to me.
Nick saunters away on the prowl while Tony nudges me that it’s my turn.
“How are you doing?”
I scan the table and line up my stick. “Hanging in there.”
“He’s making it tough.”
“I can handle it.”
I look up to see he’s calling my bluff with his expression.
“I can. I’m just having an off day.”
“If you say so.”
I miss another shot. “Is he really ready?”
“Yeah, absolutely. I’ve never seen anyone hit as hard as he does. He wants you to think being here isn’t helping, but since you showed up, he’s thrown himself back into it. I think knowing where you are is help enough.”
“That’s so barbaric.”
“True.” He clasps his hands around the top of his stick, planning his next shot. “But think about it this way, how would you feel trapped in a corner of the world where nothing existed but your job, your two very hard jobs, knowing the girl you want is living this great life without you, and possibly with someone else? I call that fucking torture.”
I scrub my face, forgetting my makeup. “I just want to be with him.”
“He just wants it to be real.” He takes a shot and sinks it before his eyes lift to mine.
“I’m all in. He’s not just my first, he’s my only. And it’s terrifying because I’m not sure what I’ll do if he won’t let me love him anymore.”
“You’ve only been here a little over a week. He’s still thawing.”
“You saw him in the barn the other day. He’s doing anything but.”
Tony sighs and lifts his beer from the tall cocktail table we’ve congregated around. “I need to tell you something.”
This has me pausing, and I lift my eyes to his. He gestures toward the seat, and I take it. I look up puzzled by his expression when he speaks. “I’m trusting you with this, which may end Lance and me if he ever finds out.”
“Okay, you’re scaring me.”
Tony blows out a breath. “He’s scaring me.”
I grip his forearm. “Tell me.”
He looks me over carefully and shakes his head. “Fuck it. Three months ago, Lance found Jack alone with one of his hunting rifles.”
It takes me the length of a second to realize what he’s saying, and suddenly, there is no air in the pool hall. My whole body cringes as I try to grasp the idea of what that was like for Lance.
“I don’t know if he was really going to do it, but I know there were shells scattered around him.”
“Jesus, Tony.”
“Jeannie and Trevor don’t know, and the only reason I do is because I happened upon them at the right time. Lance has slowly come unglued since.”
Reeling, I try to reason with it. “Not Jack. He wouldn’t, he couldn’t do that to Jeannie, to his boys.”
“He wasn’t in his right mind. Even so, I really don’t think he could have gone through with it, but then again, I don’t have a disease taking over my body and ruining my brain.”
“Oh my God, Tony. What if he had—”
“Damn, he’s here,” Tony whispers before his pleading eyes meet mine.
I try and give him as much reassurance as I can. “You have my word, Tony, I swear it.”
I turn in time to feign a smile for Lance. “You came.”
He’s not planning on staying, that much is clear when Tony lifts a fresh beer in his direction. “One won’t kill you.”
Lance jerks his head before he eyes me, his voice clipped. “We need to talk.”
I look back to Tony, and he grabs my stick and lays it on the table. “Go on, I’ll tab us out.”
“Okay.”
Tony makes his way toward the bar as I look back over to Lance. I physically feel his flinch when his name is called from across the bar.
“Prescott, that you?” I hear a guy call out from a booth across the way. He stands, and that’s when I see the brunette at his side, her eyes trained on Lance like she can’t tear them away.
Channah.
On instinct, I know she still wants him. It’s written all over her face. I wonder if the same desperation laces mine. Fighting the sting of jealousy, my stomach drops as the man draws near, a sinister grin on his face.
“Thought that was you,” he says, sidling up to Lance. I can feel the air thicken around us as Channah pulls at his arm.
“Mark, you promised.”
“And who do we have here?” he says, ignoring her and looking me over.
“Mark,” Channah begs, “Please don’t.”
“Don’t what?” His eyes cut back to her as she pulls at his bicep. He’s attractive, but dressed business casual, and looks out of place in the bar. “Just making friendly conversation.” He shrugs. “Haven’t seen this guy around lately, have we?”
Her eyes dart away, a sure sign of guilt. I feel like I just walked into a wall as I realize my assumption was right.
“Gotta pay our respects to our hometown hero, our football star, don’t we? Oh, that’s right,” he clamps a hand on Lance’s shoulder, “you didn’t get drafted. Damned shame, probably why you’re back home crying in your beer.”
“We’re leaving,” Lance says, grabbing my arm possessively. I glance back over my shoulder to look at Channah, whose eyes are trailing Lance. Following him out of the bar, I study him. His face is impassive.
“You want to tell me what that was about?”
“It’s history.”
“Yeah, well, history has a way of repeating itself, doesn’t it?”
“Not this time.” He turns to face me once we’ve cornered the bar, his eyes granite. “Harper, leave. I’
m not asking anymore. I’m telling.”
He might as well have slapped me. “What?”
“We’re done. I don’t want you here. You’ve already cost me too much. I’m done with this. Us. Leave.”
I feel like I’m having an out of body experience. He can’t be saying these words to me. And meaning them.
“You really want that?” If I thought he was impenetrable before, it’s nothing compared to the arctic indifference he’s showing now. It’s as if I’m some groupie gnat he can’t seem to bat away.
“My mother’s going to sell the ranch if I don’t get my shit together, and I don’t have time to play patty cake with you anymore.” Heat climbs up my neck as I try to grapple with the weight of his words.
“I’m going back inside.”
He grips my wrist to stop me. “I mean it, Harper.” I cut my eyes to his.
“Enough. You’re scared. You’re afraid things won’t pan out this time. You’re terrified of what’s around the corner, and I can understand this more than you will ever know. You’re afraid I’ll hurt you again. Well I’m fucking scared too, but Lance, this is just life trying to put us at odds again. These are our circumstances now. Not forever. We can deal with this together. If you would just let me in.”
“You aren’t what I need.”
“That’s a lie. Jesus, and if she’s threatening to sell the ranch, it’s because you’ve turned into a raging dick void of personality. You don’t get to pin this on me. This is your fear talking. I’m not going anywhere. I’m not here to hurt you.”
“I don’t want you anymore!” His voice booms, humiliating me, and I flinch on impact. I barely recognize my own voice when I counter.