by J. S. Scott
Blake was probably one of the most complex but kindest men I’d ever met. “My mom loved your mother like a sister,” I confided.
“I know. Mom still mourns over losing her best friend,” Blake answered.
We were silent as we sat there together, comfortable in each other’s arms. It wasn’t awkward or difficult. In fact, for the first time since I’d returned to Rocky Springs, I actually felt like I was really home.
Blake
“Are you glad you don’t have to be Marcus anymore?” Harper asked me curiously as we sat in a small Mexican restaurant, having dinner in Rocky Springs the next day.
As promised, we’d visited her parents’ resting place in the cemetery, and my father’s gravesite. Harper had insisted on getting the flowers for my dad’s site in addition to her own for her mom and dad.
She said each flower she picked up had meaning, but all I could remember was her solemn expression as she’d decorated all of the graves with beautiful blooms that would probably die off the next day. It was still cold in the Colorado mountains at night. But Harper hadn’t seemed to care. She’d been adamant about leaving every single flower, and I have to admit that my dad’s resting place had never looked so nice.
As we stood by each headstone, we’d shared some of our better memories about our parents. Some of the things that came to mind about my dad I hadn’t even thought about for years.
I considered her question for a moment before answering, “When we were kids, I did want to be Marcus.”
Harper looked up from her food and frowned. “Why?”
“He always knew what his future was going to be, and he had balls. I didn’t think there was anything he was afraid of, and we were close back then.”
“You aren’t close now?” Harper asked.
“I’m not sure anybody can really be close to Marcus. He’s changed. We used to have the connection that people talk about with identical twins. We could almost sense each other’s emotions. But once he started traveling the world, we just drifted apart.” I still wasn’t sure what had happened. “Since I started helping him cover his disappearances, we’ve gotten closer, but it’s never been the same as it was when we were children.”
“We’re never as innocent, either,” Harper said thoughtfully. “Sometimes as we get older, we want to keep more things to ourselves.”
“What are your secrets?” I asked her, because I really wanted to know.
She shrugged. “Some things don’t ever need to be told.” Then she smiled. “Personally, I’m glad you’re not Marcus, and that you don’t want to be him anymore. You’re wonderful just the way you are.”
“If you think that, then I’m glad I don’t want to be Marcus, either.” As identical twins, maybe my brother and I had both gone through some identity crises when we were young, but we’d grown into two very distinct individuals.
“You found your own place, your own calling,” Harper observed.
“It just took me a little longer than Marcus. He always knew he was going to run my father’s company. None of the rest of us were even remotely interested in taking it over.”
“So you finally figured out you shared Zane’s talent for science?” Harper asked as she laid her napkin on her plate, her dinner finished.
“Not as quickly as Zane did. Hell, he was always scientifically gifted, even as a kid.”
She took a sip of her wine before she commented, “Sometimes it takes a little longer to figure out where you belong in life.”
I knew damn well she was referring to her own late awakening that she wanted to make something out of her life rather than just being a rich man’s daughter. “Like you figuring out you wanted to preserve historic buildings while still updating the rest of the facilities?”
She laughed, a genuine sound that made my chest ache. Harper was beautiful when she smiled, her happiness almost infectious. She’d left her gorgeous blonde hair down today, but she was still in jeans and an old college sweatshirt. Casual seemed to be her comfort zone, and it looked damn good on her.
“I always liked old buildings,” she explained. “When I chose an architecture major, it was because I’d always been good at creating, visualizing places how I thought they should or could be. The specialty area happened completely by accident, but I love it. I wouldn’t want to do anything else.”
“You’re good at it,” I answered honestly. I’d seen photos of some of her projects. She did have amazing vision and talent.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I’d like to think I leave a little part of myself in every job.”
I had no doubt that she left a tiny piece of her soul in every place she designed. Because that was part of her personality. Everything she did, she seemed to put herself into heart and soul.
Even the simple task of bringing flowers to a gravesite.
Or buying property to build a homeless shelter in cities that desperately needed it.
I remembered how much I wanted to help Harper assist more of the homeless. “I would really like to get your work with the homeless set up as an official charity. Are you sure you’re okay with that? I know a lot of people who would be supporters and give donations.”
Harper tilted her head, like she was thinking about the implications of her work becoming an official charity. She’d seemed fine with the idea before, but I wanted to make sure she hadn’t changed her mind before I started the paperwork.
“I think I’d like to move forward if you think it will help more of the people without a roof over their heads. Right now, I’m just working on temporary shelter, but that’s only a small part of a solution. We need long-term housing for these people, mental health workers, and so many more resources than I could ever provide myself.”
I could hear the passion in her voice as she started talking about her work with people who needed homes. She was pretty amazing. That single incident twelve years ago had impacted her life so significantly. Only someone with a huge heart would continue to care so damn much. Harper could talk about how spoiled she’d been as a kid, and believe me, I knew it firsthand, but she’d been a product of her isolation from the real world. She’d grown into the most incredible woman I’d ever known.
“I’ll handle it,” I assured her. And I really wanted to be involved. Harper had started something important, and I wanted to help her make it grow. Maybe one charity couldn’t singlehandedly deal with the homeless problem in our country, but we could certainly make a dent in the progress.
She nodded. “What are we doing tomorrow?”
To be honest, I was trying not to think about tomorrow, her last day with me here in Rocky Springs.
“I don’t want this to end, Harper. Not on Friday. Why does it have to? I can come to Boston to visit, and you could come to DC. I have a damn private jet at my disposal. We can still see each other.” My gut ached already just from the thought of Harper leaving me.
She shook her head slowly. “Long-distance relationships rarely work, Blake. You know that. We both know our lifestyles and personalities aren’t conducive to a casual, long-distance arrangement.”
The last thing any relationship I had with Harper would be was casual. I wanted to complicate everything, see her every moment that I had away from work. And that didn’t mean once a month, or every few months. I wanted her to be…mine. “It doesn’t matter. I still want it. I still want to see you.”
Harper was silent as she gazed at me across the table. Finally, she shook her head again. “It won’t work for me. I’m sorry. All we could ever be is friends, and I don’t think I can do that. I’d want…more.”
“Then take more. It’s not like I’m not willing to give you whatever you want.”
Christ! Did she not get it? I’d waited my entire adult life for her. There had never been anyone but Harper for me, and there never would be. If she left again, I’d be completely useless, fuck
ing destroyed.
Maybe before I’d seen her again, I could put Harper away in a separate compartment and not think about her, but that isn’t going to work for me anymore.
I glared at her, watching as she swallowed hard and avoided looking at me directly as she said, “You’re not the problem, Blake. It’s me. I can never give you what you deserve.”
She rose to her feet and started putting on her coat, barely giving me time to pay the check before she walked outside.
I followed, angry that I couldn’t figure out what was wrong, why we couldn’t make this work. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t the best of situations, but when you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, compromises could be made.
“Harper!” I grabbed her arm and turned her around to face me as she hurried toward the car. “We can work this out. I know we can.”
“We can’t,” she said stubbornly.
“Why?”
“It’s personal, Blake. But believe me, it’s all me. You’re an incredible guy, and if I was a normal woman, I’d be bending over backward to keep you in my life.”
Her emerald eyes were glistening with tears, and it sliced my heart to ribbons to see her this way. Something was tormenting her, and I wanted to know exactly what it was so I could make it go away. “Why aren’t you normal?”
There wasn’t one damn thing wrong with her. In my eyes, she was perfect.
“Can’t you just accept that we’ll never have anything beyond the time we’ve had in the last few weeks?”
“No, goddammit, I can’t,” I answered harshly. “I can’t accept that we’re just never going to see each other again. I can’t accept that we can’t work this out. And I sure as hell can’t accept that you don’t care about me as much as I care about you.”
Her expression grew distant. “You have to. I am leaving and I can’t see you again.”
“What if you’re pregnant?” I asked desperately.
“Let’s not think about that. Do you really want to be a father?”
“Hell, yes. Of course I do. If you get pregnant, I’d want us to be together. I want us to be together if you’re not pregnant right now.”
“I’m not pregnant,” she said flatly. “But I’ll text you once I know for sure.”
She jerked her arm away from me, and then turned and headed back toward the car.
I was hurt and angry, but I had to face the truth, deal with it.
She just didn’t want…me.
There was no other goddamn reason that she didn’t want to work this out somehow, and the last thing I wanted was to make a fool of myself over a woman who had wanted nothing except to experience the same pleasure we’d found together twelve years ago.
I wanted to deny it, but the only real excuse she had for brushing me off was because she didn’t want a permanent place in my life. Maybe that’s why she said she wasn’t normal. She didn’t want commitments or heavy responsibilities.
After taking a deep breath and then releasing it slowly, I followed her to my vehicle, determined to somehow salvage a tiny bit of pride.
Harper
I spent my last day in Rocky Springs avoiding Blake. I’d told him I wasn’t feeling well and wanted to take it easy.
But I knew he didn’t buy my excuse.
God, it tore my heart apart to hurt him this way, but what choice did I really have? I couldn’t make a permanent commitment to him, even though my heart had never wanted anything more. And I couldn’t stand to be near him without begging him to take me, imperfections and all.
No, it was definitely better to stay away, but it hadn’t been easy.
Once I realized he’d left the house to go check out things on the breeding ranch, I’d taken a swim in his indoor pool and then tried desperately to relax in the hot tub. I’d gone back upstairs and had taken a shower and then tried to read a book.
Nothing, and I mean nothing, could take my mind off the fact that I’d rather be hanging out at the ranch with Blake than doing anything else.
God, how had all this ever happened? How had I gotten to the point that leaving Blake felt like leaving a big part of my heart and soul behind me?
My heart was breaking as I finally tossed my book aside, everything inside me telling me that I should tell Blake the truth. Problem was, he would probably tell me it was okay that I wasn’t normal, and that we could work it out.
But I knew there was no way to fix me, and I knew what would lie ahead for us as a couple would be an ugly road that could very well end up tearing us apart.
Blake deserved everything he wanted: love and a family of his own. He should have a wife who would make him her everything, and one capable of giving him all that he wanted.
I swiped at my tears angrily. Wishing I could be his was selfish. Yes, I wanted Blake. I had since the moment he’d come to rescue a silly eighteen-year-old girl from a homeless shelter all those years ago.
Problem was, things had changed since we’d met back then, and I no longer had a massive crush on him.
I was a woman, and I loved him with every fiber of my being. That more mature love made me ask myself if I wanted to give him part of the life he wanted, or if he should have it all.
The answer for me was simple. I loved him. Blake was worthy of having it all, and that didn’t include a woman like me.
I was restless as hell, and I kept pacing my room, trying to figure out what to do with myself. I thought about going out hiking, but I’d noticed what looked like freezing rain coming down earlier and I was pretty certain it would probably turn to snow later if it kept falling.
Finally, I pulled on a pair of sweatpants, a T-shirt, and my sneakers, and then headed to the part of the house where I’d seen a gym.
If I didn’t find a way to burn off some of my nervous energy, I swore I was going to lose it.
I’d only opened the door halfway when I heard a steady slapping noise coming fast and furious from inside the gym.
Blake? I’d thought he was still outside.
I nudged the door open a little more, and then peeked inside.
The gym was enormous for a home facility, with high ceilings, exercise mats, and plenty of pieces of equipment I’d never seen before. Not that I was exactly an exercise aficionado. My preference was to walk outside and see whatever sights I could see while getting my exercise, and I liked a good hike when I could get one.
I gaped as I watched the large man with his back to me jumping rope at a speed that made him and the rope both look like a blur. As I focused, the rope was still fuzzy because it was moving so fast, but I had no doubt who the powerful man was pounding away at jumping, his torso bare from the waist up, and only a pair of light sweatpants on his lower body.
Holding my breath, I wondered how long he’d keep up the punishing pace, but I finally had to release the air before I passed out. He went on and on, never slowing down for a moment.
Moving inside, I took a seat in the corner, hoping he wouldn’t see me and I wouldn’t interrupt his workout.
It seemed like it took forever for him to finally drop the rope, and I was surprised when he moved to a large punching bag suspended from the ceiling. He stood completely still for a moment before he began a series of kicks, his feet flying high as he hit several of the marks on the large bag. It would swing and then move back toward him, but he timed his kicks so well that it had barely come back toward him before he slammed it again. And again.
I watched him move with the grace of a ballerina and the force of an angry tiger. I cringed in the corner as he did an amazingly fluid and lightning-fast roundhouse kick, but I was pretty certain he had turned so fast that he didn’t notice me.
Turns out, I was wrong.
He stopped and turned around, his hands on his hips and breathing heavily. “I thought you decided to hide in your room until you were ready to g
o,” he said in a panting, husky tone.
I got to my feet, thinking about his question, but my eyes never left his toned body coated with a thin sheen of perspiration. “You did once tell me that you were into the martial arts. It looks like you still are.”
I moved forward, realizing I really was doing the one thing I swore I’d never do again.
I was hiding, running away.
He grabbed a towel from a bench and scrubbed it over his face and down his upper body. “Taekwondo. Black belt. Yeah. I still try to keep up my skills. It’s easier if I have a sparring partner, but Marcus is my only decent opponent, and he’s obviously unavailable.”
“So does that make you a lethal weapon”? I asked jokingly.
He tossed the towel in a basket next to the mat. “Never,” he answered seriously. “If you meet somebody who truly practices the art, he or she would be the first one to walk away from a fight instead of escalating it. I use what I know only if I have to.”
Blake was strong, powerful, yet he’d never use his strength and training to hurt someone if he could avoid it. I think I admired his attitude even more than his skills.
I shrugged. “I’m sorry I can’t help you. I don’t know the first thing about martial arts.”
His gray eyes met mine and he nodded. “I know. You like to walk.”
“I do, but it’s sleeting, so I came down to see if I could find something else to do.”
“Nervous energy?” he asked.
I nodded.
“Running away from things will do that sometimes,” he answered solemnly.
“Blake, I—”
“Don’t,” he warned, his jaw clenched tightly. “Don’t tell me that’s not what you’re doing.”
“I won’t,” I answered grimly. “Because I’d be lying. I like to think I stopped running away, but I haven’t. Not this time.”
“Then why are you doing it?” He glared at me, the intensity of his stare compelling.