Love You Forever (Serendipitous Love Book 5)

by Christina C Jones

  “You sure it’s just heartburn. You look… clammy, or something,” I said as I rounded the desk, prepared to help him out if needed.

  He grunted. “Lord have mercy, not you too son,” he chuckled as he waved off my help. “I thought it was just Short Stack and her mama, but now here you go too. I may be getting old, but that don’t mean I’m… don’t mean… shit…”

  My heart nearly dropped to my feet as he nearly dropped to the floor. It was only because I’d moved closer that I was able to catch him, and ease him to the ground.

  “Stacks, come on, man. Tell me what’s going on!”

  Eyes closed, he shook his head, raising his arm to weakly gesture toward his chest.

  Shit.

  I grabbed a pillow from the armchair, tucking it under his head before I snatched up the desk phone to call an ambulance. The next call I attempted was Mrs. Natalie, who was halfway across the country, visiting her family. When I couldn’t reach her, I shook my head, then made the last call I would have ever wanted to make.

  I called Syd.

  I doubt she meant to hurt my feelings.

  Insensitivity wasn’t really in mother’s nature, so when she decided, after I told her that my father and I had been arguing just before he suffered a heart attack, that it was probably best that I go home for now… I did. They wanted to let my father rest, not do anything that would ramp up his anxiety if he woke up, and apparently, just my presence was too risky. So… instead of being at the hospital, I sat in my room.

  Alone.

  In the dark.

  Because I was just dramatic like that.

  Really though, the alone in the dark was Quinn’s idea. She’d said something about it being soothing for me to disengage from everything. Maybe it was working, or maybe not. Maybe I’d be somewhere jumping off a building if I were out and about, instead of just having a pity party in the quiet darkness of my room.

  A soft knock sounded at my door, and I didn’t answer, knowing that if it were important, Quinn would just come in anyway. Sure enough, the door swung open, but nothing was said before it closed again. Just silence, more silence, and then a little more before my bed creaked under the weight of someone sitting down beside me.

  “Are you okay?”

  I closed my eyes, even though it was already dark, and shook my head before I answered. “No.”

  “Can I turn the light on?”

  “No.”

  The bed shifted, and a second later, the lamp on my nightstand came on anyway. Harlan turned to face me with a slight smile, seemingly unaffected by my scowl. “I went back by the hospital after I left the restaurant. He was still asleep, but your mom said the doctors said he would probably be okay. Said it was good he got medical attention as soon as he did, instead of waiting.”

  I nodded. “Good. I’m glad you were there. Bad kid causes the heart attack, good kid is there to come to the rescue.”

  “Don’t say stuff like that.”

  “Stuff like what, Harlan? The truth? Don’t tell the truth?”

  Harlan shook his head. “That’s what you think the truth is? That this is your fault?”

  “Isn’t it?” I sat up, then shrugged. “If I’d pushed harder on him eating better, if I’d called the doctor myself, if I hadn’t been so goddamned argumentative—”

  “Then this would have eventually happened anyway, because Stacks is stubborn as hell, and would have ignored you, ignored the doctor, and done what he wanted to do anyway. You didn’t clog his arteries, you didn’t encourage unhealthy habits. And you shouldn’t feel guilty for standing up for yourself. You may have bruised his ego, but nothing else, darlin’. Okay?”

  I cut my eyes away from him to stare down at my hands. “It’s not that simple.”

  “Yeah,” Harlan said, after a heavy sigh. “Yeah, I know.”

  There was silence for a long moment, and then, “I need a drink.”

  On the other side of my bed, Harlan chuckled. “Yeah. I know.”

  My phone chimed, and I checked it to see that Quinn had sent me a text. “Left to stay over with Astrid… Harlan assured me he would take good care of you. I’m on standby if you need me. <3 – Quinn.”

  With my face still pointed at my phone, I snuck a glance at Harlan from the corner of my eye. Why was he here? And what in the world had he told Quinn to get her to leave him alone with me, at a time like this?

  “Come on,” I said, standing suddenly. “The bottle of bourbon in my fridge isn’t gonna drink itself.”

  Harlan lifted an eyebrow as he stood. “I wouldn’t have thought bourbon was your thing.”

  “It’s not.” I pulled open the door to my room, and headed into the kitchen. “It’s just all I have here.” Opening the fridge, I sifted past all the health foods Astrid insisted on stocking me with, and reached to the back for the bottle of Maker’s Mark I’d been given as a 21st birthday gift. “I’ve been hanging on to this for five years, unopened. I hope it’s still good.”

  Using a paper towel, I broke the red wax seal, then unscrewed the top from the bottle. I glanced up at Harlan, who was watching me with his eyebrow raised, then shrugged and lifted the bottle to my lips.

  It was… sweet.

  It burned a little down my throat, but before that, it was smooth, and almost buttery. I immediately recognized the hints of fruit and maple that made bourbon a perfect ingredient in Stacks’ bourbon maple cream sauce, followed by a subtle smokiness that left a pleasant warmth lingering on my tongue.

  So I took another swig.

  I coughed a little as I handed the bottle over to Harlan, who took a longer swig than both of mine combined, then followed me out to the miniscule balcony attached to my apartment. I leaned against the railing, accepting the bottle back to take another drink.

  “I was surprised you weren’t still at the hospital,” Harlan said, dropping into a seat. He wasn’t a huge guy – well built, but slim – but his tall frame looked ridiculous draped over the tiny patio chair.

  I turned around, looking out over the street. “I got sent away so I couldn’t finish the job.”

  “Syd…”

  I shook my head, then took another swig from the bottle before I passed it back in his direction, but didn’t look at him. A moment later, I heard the footfalls of his heavy boots, and then his arms were around me, pulling me close. I settled against him and closed my eyes as he pressed his lips to my temple, then took another drink.

  It was crazy, really, that I’d already grown so used to being in his arms that I didn’t feel awkward at all. At the hospital, when I came rushing in, he’d grabbed me, almost just like this, to keep me from rushing into Daddy’s room. “They don’t need anybody in there right now,” he’d said, fighting to keep me contained. “Let them take care of him.” He was right, and I knew it, but still… in that moment, when I didn’t know if he would be okay, if I’d get to apologize, if I’d ever see him again… I just wanted to get to him. But Harlan was firm. And I did get to see Daddy, got to hold his hand, even if he was in an induced sleep.

  Harlan had stayed until my mother’s luckily obtained, last-minute flight arrived, and then left to check on the restaurant. I’d knelt beside my mother at my father’s bedside. Prayed with her, and cried. I’d swallowed my anger when the doctor gave us his prognosis, told us what I already knew – that with more activity and better food choices, a heart attack may very well have been prevented. And I sobbed tears of guilt when I explained to my mother that it was my harsh words and refusal to just walk away that very well may have been the stress-inducing event.

  I wasn’t so self-absorbed that I thought she was mad at me. But still… having your mother take you by the hands, and lovingly explain that you have to go home, instead of waiting at the hospital for your father to wake up wasn’t a good feeling. She framed it along with feeling like the hospital wasn’t good for my psyche, and that I needed to sleep so I could help with the restaurant the next day. Both of which were probably true, but knowing that
I could contribute to my father not getting better… it was like a punch in the face.

  “Y’know,” Harlan said, right up against my ear, after many long minutes of silence had passed, and we’d finished off half the bottle of liquor. Long enough that I felt a little bit dizzy from the bourbon, long enough that his lingering southern accent had deepened into a raspy drawl that, despite the circumstances, sent a shiver up my spine. “I think Stacks is just tryna break a cycle with you, y’know? Like… he told me one time that your granddaddy used to own a little catfish place. And that was all any of the family ever did, never went further. Stacks went off to the military, fought in a war, came back, and what did he do? Opened a pancake place. I think he doesn’t want to see you never go further than that.”

  I frowned. “Why do you say that?”

  “I talked to him today, after you left. That’s why I was in his office when it happened. He was telling me how he wanted you to see the world, and all of that.”

  I turned to face Harlan, leaning back against the rail as I met his half-lidded eyes. “So you talked to my dad about me?”

  One side of his mouth hiked up in a grin. “A little bit. I only said good things… y’know, planting seeds?”

  I knew how he meant that to come across, but it still made me roll my eyes. “Maybe since you said it, he’ll actually take it to heart.”

  Harlan sighed. “Come on, Sydnee, don’t—”

  “Don’t what?!” I snapped. “You and I both know that he’ll actually listen to you.”

  “Not always.”

  I huffed. “Maybe not immediately, but yes, always.”

  Harlan opened his mouth again, but didn’t say anything, because he had to know there was truth to my words. Finally, he shook his head. “Just be patient with him. Before he… got sick… when I was talking to him, it seemed like it was getting through.”

  “You realize you’re proving my point?”

  “You know how Stacks is! To him, we’re just his kids—”

  “Only one of whom he actually listens to, and not even the one who is actually his kid!”

  Harlan jerked his head back, and his eyes went wide. My heart leapt to somewhere around my throat as he pulled his lip between his teeth, then gave a subtle shake of his head as he stepped away from me.

  “I… Harlan!” I grabbed his arm as he turned away, then stepped between him and the door, looking up at him with pleading eyes. “I didn’t mean it like that, I—”

  “Syd, move,” he said, swiping a hand over his face.

  I shook my head, moving my grip to the front of his tee shirt. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know I’m not actually his kid,” Harlan snapped, easily pulling himself from my grasp. “But I’m still actually fucked up by this too. I’m the one who watched him struggle to breath, I’m the one who—”

  “Harlan I know.” I lifted my hands to either side of his face, tugging until he looked at me. “I know. I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t mean that as a jab at you.” I sniffled, then swiped a hand across my face to scrub away sudden tears. “I don’t even know why I said it, I’m just… I don’t know.”

  Slowly, the heated anger in Harlan’s eyes cooled, and instead of his arms remaining tense at his sides, they enveloped me again. “You’re scared. And frustrated,” he mumbled, with his lips pressed against my forehead. “But you’re not by yourself.”

  “Yeah.”

  “And we might be a little tipsy.”

  I giggled a little, with my face buried against his chest. “Yeah.”

  Long moments passed again before either of us said anything, and then finally, Harlan kissed my forehead. “It’s pretty late. I should probably get out of here,” he said, his words slurring a little as he slowly unwrapping me from his arms.

  “What?” I wrinkled my forehead. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. It’s late, and we’ve been drinking… you can just stay here.”

  Harlan chuckled. “I’m a grown man. Pretty sure I can make it home.”

  “I’m not saying you can’t, I would just feel better if you stayed. Please?”

  I didn’t wait on him to give me a real answer, I just grabbed his hand and led him back inside, going straight to my room.

  “Whoa,” he said, hanging back at the door. I tugged at him, but he wouldn’t move. “I’ll stay since you said please, but the couch is—”

  “A piece of crap. Come on.”

  After a heavy sigh, Harlan followed me into the room, and I closed the door behind him. I started to walk away, then thought about Quinn’s propensity for just walking into my room, and decided to lock it.

  And somehow… that made things suddenly awkward.

  I avoided looking at Harlan as I went to the dresser, pulling out a simple cotton nightgown. I hesitated with it in my hands, glancing at the door to the bathroom. Should I undress in here, in front of Harlan, or go—Oh. Movement across the room caught my attention, and I looked up to see Harlan tugging his shirt over his head. I watched the slow reveal of his carefully etched stomach and chest, then averted my eyes when his hands went to his belt buckle.

  Okay.

  I went to the side of the bed, where my phone was plugged in, and quickly stripped. I yanked on the nightgown, then glanced over my shoulder at Harlan, who was standing casually in nothing but black boxer briefs, tapping at the screen of his phone. My eyes stayed on him longer than intended, lingering over a muscled body that hadn’t ever really been apparent through his clothes. Strong, muscled thighs, abs – my phone chimed, giving me something else to look at.

  “Kitty stroking is a great way to relieve stress, clear the heart, and the mind. Just saying. – Astrid.”

  My eyes went wide as the bed shifted to accommodate Harlan’s weight, and I hurriedly cleared the message from the screen, but he’d already laid back, covering his eyes with his arm.

  “Only you would get us drunk on bourbon of all things,” he chuckled. “My damned head is swimming.”

  I smiled, even though my eyes were a bit shaky too. “Sorry. Turn off the lamp, you’ll probably feel better.”

  He laid there without moving for a long moment, and finally I just climbed over him and switched it off. “I was gonna do it,” he mumbled, and I shook my head as I crawled under the covers myself.

  “It’s fine.”

  I settled back against my pillows and closed my eyes, trying to savasana and get myself to sleep, but it wouldn’t come. There was too much on my mind. Offending Harlan, talking to my mother, seeing my father in the hospital, arguing with him before that, and…

  “You kissed me this morning.”

  I wasn’t sure what made me say it out loud, but once it was out there I couldn’t take it back, and I held my breath waiting for his response. It took him so long that I thought he was asleep, but then finally, he spoke up.

  “I did. Doesn’t even feel like it was the same day, does it?”

  I shook my head, even though I knew he couldn’t see me in the dark. I felt a sudden need to be close to him in the queen-sized bed, and instead of thinking about it, I just did it. I scooted until I was right next to him, and to my surprise, he wrapped his arm around me, hooking it around my waist to pull me close.

  I propped my chin on his chest, pointing my face up toward his in the dark. The little LED light on my phone was blinking, notifying me of something, a feature that usually annoyed me, and I always meant to turn it off. Tonight though, every time it blinked, it reflected off the ceiling, bathing the room in soft pink light for a second before it dropped into darkness again.

  On one blink, I watched the rise and fall of his chest as he slipped away into sleep. On another, I reached up to trace the line of his facial hair, noticing that it was growing back, outside of the neatly groomed lines. On the next blink, I gently pressed my finger to that dimple on his chin, smiling when he mumbled something in his sleep, and tried to pull me closer. On the blink after that, I pushed myself upward, and lowered my lips onto his.


  At first, he didn’t respond, but the harder I pressed, slipping my tongue between his lips, trailing my hand over his chest, he began to come alive. Half asleep, we devoured each other with slow, lazy, bourbon-flavored kisses, until I pulled together enough liquor-soaked courage to climb on top of him.

  Harlan grabbed both sides of my face, bringing my mouth back to his. His fingers moved backward, into my hair, gently easing away the ponytail holder keeping it contained, so that he could rake his fingers over my scalp. I had my thighs spread wide to straddle him, and feeling his growing hardness between my legs had me second-guessing several things. The drinking, asking him to spend the night, inviting him into my room, kissing him, climbing on top of him when I was in nothing but a nightgown and no panties… all decisions of mine that had led us to this point, and…

  It wasn’t like I could really turn back.

  Maneuvering my hands between us, I felt my way to the waistband of his boxers. Harlan grunted against my mouth, then eased my head back, meeting my gaze in those sporadic blinks of light. “We really doin’ this?” he asked, stroking a thumb over my cheek.

  I swallowed hard, then nodded, pushing my hand past the soft, wiry hairs to grip him in my hands. I pulled him up, flinching a little at the way much more of him than I expected sprang free.

  Oh dear.

  But again… it wasn’t like I could turn back. When the light flashed again, I could see him watching me, feel him holding his breath, waiting for me. I pushed myself up on my knees, and Harlan’s hands went to my hips, guiding and steadying me as I lowered myself onto him.

  I dropped my head, letting my hair fall over my face so he couldn’t see me cringing as my body stretched to accommodate him. If it weren’t for the pressure of his hands at my hips, edging me down, I would have stopped. But I bit my lip and let Harlan pull me onto him, letting out nothing but a whimper when my body was finally flush against his.