Except my brother.
I dragged my fingers through my hair, not sure what more there was to say. He took a step forward, but stopped.
“I just…” he began, his voice lower, quieter. “I just want to know my son.”
“You had your chance sixteen years ago.”
He shook his head. “But that’s the thing. I never had a chance.” He took another step forward, but stopped again before he made any real progress. “I didn’t know about him. The people who should have told me didn’t. And the one who should have shared all this with me thought that I had no interest. And that—“
“I don’t want to know,” I said, turning from him. “I don’t want to know your story. I don’t want to care about you or what happened to you. I don’t want—“
“Why?”
He was closer. He was standing behind me, but I didn’t turn. I couldn’t look at him anymore. I couldn’t let my thoughts go to all the places they so desperately wanted to go.
But he wasn’t about to let it go.
Harrison laid his hands on my shoulders, his fingers biting into my flesh. It wasn’t so much the way he touched me, but the fact that he was touching me. There was heat in his touch that woke things inside of me that had only been woken once—the night he lay with me in my bed.
I turned and he opened his mouth to say something more, but I pressed a hand to his mouth.
“Don’t talk,” I said softly.
And then I kissed him.
Men used women all the time. Why couldn’t women use men?
He’d used me the other night. I was only returning the favor. And I so desperately needed to forget. I needed to forget everything that had been happening even if it was only for a few minutes, even if my way of forgetting would only muddy the water that much more. I needed this and I think I had the right to take it.
And he wasn’t fighting it.
He buried his fingers in my tangled hair, tugging me so close to him that there were no secrets between us. I pressed my hands under his shirt, trying to make the difficult choice of going up and running my fingers over those perfect muscles, or going down and smoothing my palms over his hard ass. Or both.
Definitely both.
He tugged at my shirt, forcing me back from him for the long second it took to strip it away. And then he was pushing me backward, trapping me against the edge of my desk, wiping away a carefully stacked pile of papers. I sat back happily, working at the drawstring that kept his pants in place even as he tugged at the waist of my sweats.
I’ve never been naked in my parents’ bakery before. I’d made out here—one too many times—when I was in high school. It was convenient, having a key to a private building when everyone else was making out in the back of their parents’ station wagon. But I’d always ended things before they got to that point of no return. Having a strict curfew and living in a small town where everyone knew everyone else, therefore everyone knew who was with who, was convenient.
I’d had sex on a desk before, but that was a long, complicated story. And it had not been anything like this.
Harrison was beautiful. And he knew exactly what he was doing when he touched me. His hands slid over my thighs as he bent for another kiss, his tongue dancing in my mouth like a ballerina on a New York stage. I ached for him in a way that took my breath away, and it threatened to push me to heights I never even dreamed of.
I tugged at his pants, wrapped my fist around him as he moaned deep in his throat. And then he was inside of me, that tenuous connection creating something I never thought I could be a part of. I was too cynical, too independent to ever be open to the kind of love my parents shared. And I was too stubborn to allow even a good guy, like Nick, to break through my walls. But this…there was such promise in Harrison’s touch that my soul was beginning to think…maybe.
I grabbed his ass and pulled him closer to me, needing this. My mind went blank for the first time in days, weeks even. My heart pounded, my muscles tightened. Harrison held my hips, pulled me close to him, too, and I didn’t want him to let go. I wanted this to last forever. I wanted to live in a world where this was all that mattered. But the good things can never last.
My lower belly began to quiver and my muscles threatened to clench. A moan like nothing I’d ever heard before slipped from between my lips. My vision darkened even as I lifted my arms to his shoulders and wrapped them around his neck. I felt his lips on mine, but my nerves were exploding and they weren’t working the way they should have done. I heard him whisper something against my ear, but I didn’t understand.
And then his heat was burning inside of me and his muscles were quivering, his hold on my hips becoming tenuous.
I’d given him pleasure. The same he’d given me.
That thought was like a second orgasm, making strange things happen in my chest. Tears filled my eyes and I couldn’t stop them even if I’d had forewarning, even if I could control anything about this whole situation.
“Penny?”
He pulled back, his hand reaching to wipe away the first of the tears.
“Don’t,” I said, pushing at his chest. I pushed hard, jerking away from him and grabbing my pants off the floor. “Please go.”
“Penny, I just—“
“Leave before I call the police.”
He was quiet for a long moment, but then I could feel the wind of his movement, the heat of his anger. Then he brushed past me and walked out, slamming the heavy fire door behind him.
I collapsed onto the floor, the sobs coming so quickly that all I could do was give in to them.
Chapter 14
Harrison
“What kind of questions will the judge ask him?”
Finn looked up and offered a shrug that didn’t really make me feel any better.
“He’ll want to know what he thinks about this situation. What he thinks about you, about his sister. And then he will take all that into consideration when he makes his decision.”
I nodded as I paced the surprisingly large hotel room. Finn flew in last night to work with the local lawyer he’d found for me at the hearing in the morning. I’d known Finn for years. We actually went to the same university, but Finn was two years ahead of me. We didn’t meet until ten years ago when I expanded Ashland Furniture into Ashland-Philips and he helped with the requisite paperwork. He’d been my attorney ever since.
“I know this is nerve wracking, Harrison,” Finn said, “but we have a strong case. I don’t think the judge could keep your son from you based on the law. As emotional as adoptions are, they are essentially a contract. And a contract requires agreement from all parties. But you didn’t give your consent.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is pretty simple.”
I wished it was. But even as I stood there in that hotel room, one foot back in the life I left behind in Oregon, I couldn’t stop thinking about Penelope and…and what? What happened the other night? Why did she attack me like that and then push me away when she so clearly needed me? Or needed someone?
I understood she was angry with me. Hell, I’d be angry with me in her position. But then to kiss me, to let me touch her, to…I didn’t understand. And I couldn’t stop thinking about it.
And I couldn’t stop wanting her.
It was all so insane. I was on the cusp of getting what I wanted, and now I find myself regretting all of it. I regret coming here, I regret calling her into the classroom to talk about JT. I regret the way things played out, the way JT learned the truth about me. And I desperately regret that we have to face off in court again tomorrow.
Could I have done things differently?
Yes.
Would the results have been different if I had handled the situation better?
I don’t know. Maybe not.
If I had met Penelope under any other circumstances, would things be the same? Would she be the same person she is now? Would I?
I hated this. I prided myself on being
a man who knows what’s going on around him. I walk into a business meeting, I know exactly who’s going to argue for the sake of arguing, who’s going to agree with everything I have to say, and who’s going to have some valid points I’d damn well better be prepared to counter. I always had control, always knew what the outcome was going to be before we even got to that point.
I didn’t know how this was going to end and that scared the crap out of me.
“Have you spoken to Julia Rowell?”
I glanced at Finn. “Who?”
“Julia Rowell. The biological mother.”
“Oh.” I’d not heard anyone ever refer to Julia as more than just Julia. “She’s flying in this afternoon.”
“Good. It’ll only help our case to have her in the courtroom.”
“A little worried about JT. This will be the first time he’s met his biological mother. I’m afraid it’ll be too much for him.”
“Then we’ll keep them apart until after he’s given his testimony. Shouldn’t be a problem.”
I nodded, but that wasn’t really my point. I didn’t care about JT’s testimony. I cared that JT had had to deal with a lot this past week. Meeting Julia might just be that proverbial straw. Especially if the judge ruled quickly and ruled in my favor.
I needed to talk to Penelope about it, but I was afraid that any overture I made would be rebuffed. I hadn’t seen her since that night in the bakery, but I hadn’t really expected to. Still, it felt like the right thing to do. She was his sister. She would know how much he could handle.
“And your mother?”
I shook my head. “Not coming.”
“That’s not good,” Finn said, putting down the papers he’d been studying to regard me full on. “Why not?”
“I didn’t ask her.”
“Harrison—“
“That’s not negotiable.”
“But you identified her handwriting in court. You told the judge that she was the one who forged your signature. Her testimony to that effect would solidify our case.”
“You already said our case was pretty strong. Why do we need to solidify it any further?”
Finn stood and took off his glasses, stretching a little as he came toward me. “Because it never hurts to have an overwhelming amount of evidence in a case like this. You know that.”
I shook my head. “She’s not coming.”
Finn studied my face for a long minute and then nodded, backing off of the subject.
“Libby?”
“She flies in this afternoon too.”
“Good. At least we’ll have someone to offer a character reference.”
“Do I really need people to testify to what a great guy I am?”
“It doesn’t hurt.”
Finn came over and patted my arm lightly. “Nothing in family court is ever set in stone. This could, realistically, go either way. But, like I said, it’s basically a contract case and all the evidence is in your favor. However, every little bit helps, like putting a shine on the diamond.”
I had to admit that I saw the logic in his words. But I still felt uneasy about this whole thing. I wished we didn’t have to go in front of the judge. I wished…but wishes never did anybody any good, did they?
*****
Libby threw her arms around me the moment she stepped onto the tarmac, a huge smile on her pretty face.
“Hello, Harry,” she said softly against my ear.
“Thank you for coming.”
“Where else would I be?”
She stepped back and studied my face, running soft fingertips along my unshaven jaw.
“Having trouble sleeping?”
I shrugged. “Night time is a good time for a long run.”
She shook her head. “You should take better care of yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
I turned, sliding a hand over her shoulder to lead her to the car. She climbed in, graceful in her business suit, offering me a wink as she pulled the seatbelt into place. I got in and started the car, driving a little too fast out of the private airport’s gates.
“How’s it going with Finn and the case?”
“We’re jumping right into it, huh?”
“I figure it’s better to acknowledge the elephant in the room sooner rather than later.”
I carefully pulled the car into traffic and turned onto the country highway that would take us to the small town that was JT’s home. I was buying time, pretending that this route I’d taken hundreds of times over the last six weeks or so was more complicated than it really was.
“Finn wants Mom to testify.”
“I have to admit, I was a little surprised you didn’t talk to her about it.”
“I don’t think I want to know what she did. Then I would have to acknowledge to myself that it was her who created this mess.”
“Mom was never an angel, Harry. Dad just outdid her because he was louder and more aggressive.”
An image of my mother, beautiful and frail, flashed through my mind. My mom was always the person I could run to when my father was on a tirade, the one who let me hide behind her skirts when I was little and my father decided I needed a spanking to get me back on the right track. Later, she was the one who came into my bedroom with a peanut butter sandwich when my father sent me to bed without dinner, or who helped me sneak out when I was grounded but there was some party I wanted to go to. She was my coconspirator, my confidant. She knew about the tattoos, the drinking and the questionable behavior. She knew how desperately I wanted to be a teacher, how much I wanted to shape young minds. She knew how difficult it was for me to give up my dreams when my father passed away and the complete mess he’d left behind was revealed.
My mom was my saving grace. To know now that she was also the one who stole my son’s childhood from me was almost unbearable. I wasn’t ready to face it.
“JT is supposed to come over right after we get to my place. You’ll get to meet him.”
“Finally.” Libby smiled. “I’ve been looking forward to this moment ever since you told me about him.”
“Me too.”
I reached over and squeezed her hand. Her smile widened as she tugged my hand against her thigh and ran her other hand over the back of it.
Libby was…Libby and I had a complicated relationship. She was a child when I went off to college, only fifteen when our father died. She was a responsibility, someone else I had to watch over and care for in my father’s absence. Not only did I have to fix everything to protect our mother, not only did I have to keep my older brother from interfering in something he was never prepared to deal with, but I had this child I had to watch over, keep from trouble. I had to keep her from walking down the same road my brother and I had walked.
And then she walks into my office one day, all of twenty years old and fresh from her college graduation, and she wanted a job. I nearly laughed her out of the office. Seven years later, I can’t imagine what I’d do without her.
Now she was coming to meet my fifteen year old son with me.
It felt almost poetic.
We pulled up to my little house and I waited for the comment. I waited for her to pop off and make some remark about how it wasn’t anything like the elaborately designed and built house I had back in Ashland. But she didn’t say a word.
Sometimes I forgot that Libby wasn’t a snob like so many of the people I surrounded myself with back in Oregon.
I carried her bags inside and set them inside the guest room. I was about to offer her a drink when there was a knock on the door. Right on time. JT was like clockwork with his visits. He arrived every afternoon at four, paced the living room and asked me seemingly unconnected questions, and then left just as quietly, but punctually, as he’d arrived.
I opened the door.
“Hey,” he said, looking down at his shoes.
“My sister’s here,” I said, wanting to give him some sort of warning. But then I felt Libby’s hand on my back. I stepped aside and watch
ed as JT’s eyes came up to take in her welcoming expression.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, JT,” Libby said. “Harry’s told me so much about you.”
“Harry?” JT glanced at me and a smile burst like a bubble on his face. “You call him Harry?”
“Doesn’t he look like a Harry?” Libby jabbed her elbow into my side. “I always thought he did.”
JT nodded as he regarded me with the most open curiosity he’d displayed all week. “He does, actually.”
Libby slipped her arm around JT and pulled him into the house, the two of them laughing and joking like old friends. Leave it to my sister to win my son over that quickly!
I felt like a third wheel, watching them get to know each other. I think I learned more about JT in that hour than I’d learned teaching him literature for a month.
Was this what it was like to be a parent?
Chapter 15
Penelope
“Go home, Penny,” Nick said, coming up behind me and rubbing my shoulders a little too roughly for a long minute. “You look exhausted.”
“There’s no point. I can’t sleep, anyway.”
“Yes, well, you could spend a little time with JT.”
I snorted. Spending time with JT was like having long, drawn out conversations with a blank wall. He wouldn’t answer any of my questions, unless I asked him what he wanted for dinner. But he was there. And he was engaging—sort of. That was a one hundred and eighty degree spin from the way he was before. But, still, it was difficult walking that field of landmines—not asking him questions about Harrison even though that was the only thing I really wanted to talk about.
I’d gone to all these lawyers, and none of them could help me. Jack was more than eager to help, but he had no fresh ideas and almost no optimism that we might be able to win. The only thing I had was the adoption papers my parents signed nearly sixteen years ago and the custody order I was given when my parents died. And those, Jack assured me, should carry some weight. Unless, of course, the judge threw out the validity of the original adoption order. Then we had nothing other than JT’s testimony to stand on.
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