Worthy of the Harmony (Mountains & Men Book 2)

by Martin, R. C.

  “What are we doing here?”

  I press a button, looking over at her as the convertible top retracts. “You got some bullshit to let go of, baby doll. Not takin’ it home with me.”

  I climb out of the car, push my seat up, and crawl into the back. For a minute, she doesn’t move; then I watch as she follows suit. When she sits as far away from me as possible, I wonder what the hell I’ve done wrong.

  “Millicent?”

  She grips her fingers and squares her shoulders before she looks me dead in the eye. “I’d like you to tell me about your ex-girlfriend. I suppose, to be more specific, the one before you started seeing me.”

  I narrow my eyes at her, even more confused than I was a second ago. “The fuck? Where did that come from?”

  “She’s been mentioned to me, more than once. Apparently, whatever happened between you two is supposed to be some sort of proof that I can trust you—trust us.”

  I blow out a breath, reaching up to run my fingers through my hair. “Millie—I don’t know who has mentioned that bitch to you, or why for that matter, but she’s got nothing to do with us. You should trust me because I care about you. You should trust me because you know I’d never want to see you hurt. You should trust us because we’re fucking amazing, baby doll. Nora should have no bearing on any of that.”

  She stares at me for a moment, nodding her head slightly. Then, just when I think we’re on the same page, she asks, “So—her name was Nora?”

  “Christ,” I mutter, scraping my hand over my mouth and along my chin. “I don’t talk about this shit, Millie. Not anymore. You want answers, you get your pretty, little ass over here—this is a conversation that requires fucking cuddles.”

  A hint of a smile dances across her lips, but I’m one-hundred-percent serious, a fact she picks up on when I open my arms. Her amusement wanes as she crawls into my lap and wraps her arms around my shoulders. I take a deep breath, knowing if it were anyone else asking me to come clean about this, I would refuse them. But Millicent isn’t anyone else. Not even close.

  “When I was in high school, I had a little side paying gig. I’d play piano for this dance company. Wasn’t really a big deal, mostly recitals and stuff. Anyway, that’s how I met Nora. She was a ballerina in one of the advanced classes. She was really good. Really passionate. Dance was her life like music is mine.

  “Anyway, we hit it off. The summer after I turned seventeen, we started dating. We were together for all of senior year. I fell in love with her. Thought she loved me, too. She said as much. We were together all the time. I mean, we didn’t go to the same school, but that just fed our desire to see each other everywhere else.

  “At the time, the band was just starting to be something. At least, we thought so. We hadn’t met JJ yet, but we had found Derrick and Wren. We were playing at parties and shit, which was getting us out of the Bradley’s garage. Nora led me to believe she was supportive of everything I did; though, like my parents, she was partial to my more classical training.

  “She wanted to go to school in New York—some fancy dance academy. When I got into Juilliard, she practically had our whole future sorted out. She knew from the start that I wasn’t planning on leaving town, but she thought she could change my mind. When I finally got her to understand no one was changing my mind, she got it into her head that my decision had something to do with her. It didn’t. It had absolutely nothing to do with her. I loved her. I wanted her to go and do her thing, but I wasn’t going to sacrifice my dream for hers.

  “I was willing to give long distance a try, but she was so pissed at me. When she left, I wasn’t really sure what we were. I called her every day for a month before I just decided to get on a damn plane and go out there to fix us. The guys helped me scrounge up the money to go fight for her.”

  For the first time since I started talking, I look at Millie. She’s staring at me, her curiosity on full display in her gorgeous green eyes. She’s so different than Nora. She’s so different than any woman I’ve ever met. I don’t know why she’s so hell bent on hearing these details, but I know I’ll give them to her without regret. I’ll give her whatever she wants if it means I get to keep her.

  That’s exactly what I want—to keep her. To know her. To know the demons in her haunted eyes… Perhaps if I share some of mine, she’ll share some of hers.

  “Then what happened? Did you find her?” she murmurs, tracing her fingers up and down the back of my neck.

  “Finding her was the easy part. I got her address from her parents. I knew she was shacking up with three other girls in Brooklyn. When I showed up at her place, one of her roommates opened the door. I should have known by the look on her face that something was wrong.”

  I remember it like it was yesterday. I’d never met the girl before in my life, and yet her eyes spoke of recognition. They also spoke of her fear. She knew the fight from hell was about to go down.

  “She tried to tell me Nora wasn’t home, but it was a lie. Just as I was asking if I could stick around until she got back, I heard her voice. I’d recognize the noise she made anywhere—but I only knew it to be a sound she made when we were having sex.” I shake my head, surprised the memory still makes me so damn angry. “I followed her voice, ignoring her roommate’s protests, and found her behind door number one with her legs spread for some scrawny-ass dick.

  “Four weeks. We’d been apart from each other for four weeks. We hadn’t even really broken up. I was furious, so I pulled him off of her and punched the motherfucker in the face. The pansy didn’t even fight back. Nora did, though. And you know what she said to me?” I pause, locking my gaze with Millie’s. “She told me that she’d already wasted a year with me and she wasn’t about to waste another day. She said she used to think I was going to be somebody, that I was better than Mountains & Men, better than CSU, better than the kid who played recitals for a little extra cash. But she didn’t think that anymore. She said I was never going to be anybody and my decision to stay in Colorado proved that.

  “Apparently, a month in the city opened her eyes to how much of a loser I was. Well, one night in the city opened my eyes to how much of a bitch she was. Still hurt, though. Swear to god, that was the lowest night of my life. But it was also the start of something.”

  “The start of what?” Millie practically whispers as she gently brings a hand to my cheek.

  “A new life. I vowed from that day forward that nothing—no one—was going to stop me from being all that I knew I could be. I promised myself that I would prove everyone who didn’t believe in me wrong, and that I would make everyone who did more than proud, or I’d die trying.”

  I offer her a feeble shrug, my story done. She simply stares at me for a couple seconds before she leans in slowly and presses her lips against mine. It’s not the response I was expecting; then again, nothing that’s happened since I climbed into the backseat of my car has been what I was expecting. I kiss her in return, reaching up to hold the back of her neck. When she pulls away, she rests her forehead against mine and sighs.

  “My dream chaser…” she murmurs.

  “What?” I ask with a smirk.

  “You really are remarkable, Sage. I hope you know that. I hope you know that I mean that. I’ve never met anyone like you. I’ve never known someone with such fierce determination and drive. You astound me.”

  This time, it’s my turn to respond with a kiss. Hearing her say those words does something to me—makes me feel bigger, badder, bolder. Now, as she kisses me back, her tongue twisting with mine, it hits me all over again. The truth. The truth I’ve known since that night I woke up without her—since the moment I knew what it felt like to have lost her.

  I’m going to love this woman.

  I’m going to love her hard.

  I know it’s coming, and I’m ready.

  “What’s your dream, baby?” I ask, my lips grazing hers.

  “I don’t know,” she breathes, her fingers gripping hold of my shirt.
r />   “Everyone has a dream.” I pull away from her, just enough to be able to look into her eyes.

  Her eyes, green and gorgeous.

  Her eyes, haunted and mysterious.

  There are demons in those eyes…

  “Maybe I did, once. I don’t wear my resilience as well as you do.”

  I furrow my brow at her. No way in hell I’m letting that bullshit lie—not here. Not in the field where bullshit is left behind.

  “Who was he? Or she? Shit—who was it?”

  “Who was who?” she asks, shaking her head in confusion.

  “The fuckface who broke your heart—the one who made you so guarded, so scared. Baby, who was it?”

  I watch as her eyes turn glassy, filling with tears I can tell she’s reluctant to shed. She takes a deep breath and looks away from me, blowing out the air that fills her lungs before she responds. “My father.” She coughs out a humorless laugh and shakes her head once more. “I can’t blame him for how I am, though. It’s not his fault. It’s mine. It’s my fault for believing that he would come back; for believing that he loved me enough to not abandon me; for wishing that I was important enough not to be left behind, never to be thought of again.

  “I was only six. I didn’t know better. I still believed in Santa Claus, so how could I not believe in love? I didn’t know that without him, my world would be cold and void of any love or magic. So, you see, I admire you for your resilience and your optimism.” She forces a smile as she brings her eyes to meet mine. “I hope all your dreams come true. I believe they will. But my dreams—I let them go. It hurt too much to hold onto them.”

  Suddenly, all her shit makes sense. She was never running from me because she thought I was in this for the chase. It was always bigger than that—bigger than me just leaving when I’d had my fill. She’s not afraid of being alone. She’s afraid of being broken. Every time she has run, it has been because she was trying to let me go before I had a chance to hurt her. Now I get it—I understand why she needed to hear about Nora. She’s still hesitant to trust me, hesitant about letting me all the way in.

  Fuck. Is that why she still makes me wrap it up?

  I’m not going anywhere. Never was.

  “Everyone dreams of something. You’ll find yours, again. Until then, hold onto me, doll face,” I tell her softly, holding her tighter.

  She sighs, curling up against me as she rests her head on my shoulder. “I’m trying.”

  We both fall silent, and for a while, she just rests in my arms. Unlike before, our lack of verbal communication isn’t uncomfortable or tense. I don’t know how we got here, what triggered the chain of events that led us here, confiding in one another, but I hope being here brings her peace. I need her to be sure of me. I’m sure as hell sure of her.

  IT’S LATE IN THE afternoon by the time we get back to the boys’ house. When Sage and I walk inside, we discover that Derrick and Violet headed into work, Alex headed home to study, and JJ, Knox, and Maddox are all in the living room watching a movie. We’re invited to join them and Sage leaves the decision up to me. I agree, happy for any excuse to cuddle with him some more. JJ is quick to hop up off his couch, making himself comfortable between the Bradley brothers and giving Sage and me plenty of room to stretch out.

  He lays across the length of the couch, leaving barely enough room for me, and I smile as I squeeze into the space between his body and the back cushions. I’m half on top of him, my leg hooked around his, my arm flung across him, and my cheek pressed against his chest. As he kisses my forehead and rests his hand on top of my ass, I’m sure this is exactly how he wanted it.

  Violet was right. He can hardly keep his hands or lips off of me, and I’m sure that I love it.

  I’m asleep in minutes, hardly even aware of what the movie is about. I don’t know how long I’m out, only that when I wake, I smell pizza. I breathe in a deep breath and my stomach growls. I didn’t eat much at lunch and the promise of food has me opening my eyes.

  “Look who’s awake?” Violet says in a hushed voice. I lift my head and look around, hoping I don’t look as groggy as I feel. My eyes stop on Violet, who is sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch between JJ’s legs. “You sound hungry. I brought some grub. Help yourself.” She tips her chin at the coffee table and I see the two opened boxes.

  “Thank you,” I manage, sitting up. When I look down at Sage, I see that he’s still sleeping. For a moment, I can’t help but stare. He really is one hopelessly sexy man—even in slumber. It makes me want to kiss him. I don’t, wishing not to disturb him, but the thought still crosses my mind.

  Just as I’m starting to untangle myself from his grasp, my phone starts to ring from inside of my pocket. I stifle a groan, knowing immediately who it is. Now, there is no question as to what time it is.

  It’s seven-thirty, and my mother is calling.

  I know that if I don’t answer, she’ll just call back until I do. After the day I’ve had, I’m not sure I have the mental or emotional capacity to stay on the phone with her for long, but the least I can do is acknowledge her existence.

  I slide the device out of my pocket, swipe my thumb across the screen, and bring it to my ear. “Mother, could you hold on a minute?”

  “Hello, Tatiana. I will hold.”

  I take a deep breath, wishing I didn’t have to pull myself away from Sage—the warmth of his body and the assurance of his affection—and then I crawl to my feet. “I’m just going to take this outside,” I announce.

  “Sure,” says Violet with a kind smile.

  When I make my way to the front door, Maestro follows me. I let him come outside with me, knowing that he won’t run away, and I take a seat on the top porch step as I watch him wander around the lawn.

  “Mother?”

  “Yes, I am here.”

  “I can’t talk for long. I’m not at home.”

  “What do you mean, you are not at home? You know the drill, Tatiana. I ask for—”

  “Very little. Yes, mother, I know,” I interrupt. My temper is short tonight and I’m already having a hard time reigning myself in. Today, I don't want to deal with this. I don’t want to deal with my mother. I just want to be with my friends. Admitting that I desire the company of the people inside of this house makes me feel good. Knowing that I’m welcome warms my heart. But the sound of my mother’s voice—

  “Tatiana—”

  “I’m sorry, mother, but could we please do this another time? I’m with friends and—”

  “You’re with that bastard boy, aren’t you?”

  I sit up straighter, offended by the way in which she’s referring to the man who holds my heart. She knows nothing about him—nothing except for that he has chosen me—and yet, she’s so quick to call him names. It’s not outside of her character by any means, but just once I wish she’d keep her opinions to herself.

  “Don’t call him that,” I murmur—my tone even and calm.

  “How many times will you blow me off for him? Until he discards you and you suddenly have time for me again? Is that how this is going to go?”

  “Nobody is discarding anyone. I’m sorry that I lost track of time and I’m not in a place to speak with you right now, but—”

  “You’re right,” she bites. “You are sorry. Sorry and weak. How did I raise such a stupid child? When will you learn, Tatiana? How many times must we go over this? Out of all the things that I taught you—”

  “Enough!” I cry. My heart is racing and I can feel my chest growing tight as I combat my tears—tears that I wish not to cry—tears that she does not deserve. “Let’s be honest here, shall we? You didn’t teach me anything. All you’ve ever done is show me what my life would look like if I ever let myself become as bitter as you! And you know what, mother? I don’t want to be anything like you! I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to be angry all the time. I don’t want to look at every man I see and resent him simply because he has a fucking dick.”

  “What
did you say to me?” Her voice is low and soft and I know that I’ve kicked the hornets nest.

  It’s been a long time since my mother and I have stood toe to toe. I ran away from her for this very reason. If I had stayed, we would have destroyed each other. Somehow, over the past eight years, a telephone call every other Saturday for a half an hour has been enough to keep us linked to a relationship that can barely be called as such, all the while preventing us from killing each other slowly. There is no depth to our connection. There is no affection in our repetitive exchange. There is no love between us. Not anymore. Not for a long time. And we’ve skirted around that truth for so long that I have lost touch with how much I hate it. How much I hate her.

  Today, after spending my afternoon in Sage’s arms—in the embrace of a man who has done nothing but try to convince me that I belong with him—I know for certain that I do not belong to Natalya Valentine. It’s not even her name that I carry.

  “Tatiana, I—”

  “For the love of god! Millicent. I go by Millicent, mother.”

  “You disrespectful little brat. How dare you utter that name to me.”

  “It’s who I am! For fuck sake—would you just let it go? It’s been twenty years. How is it possible that you can’t even hear my name without freaking out? Millicent. Just say it. Millicent!”

  “Shut your mouth!” she yells. “I have had enough. You disrespect me. Your own mother. I brought you into this damn world. I sacrificed everything for you, and this is how you treat me? And all because of some boy who will break you—snapping you in half like the twig you are. You know nothing of this life. You know nothing of the hardship of sacrifice. You know nothing of the price of love. You refuse to see that it is not worth it.”

  “Bullshit!” I cry, standing to my feet. “Don’t talk to me about sacrifice, as if I never had to give anything up to accommodate you. I sacrificed most of my childhood accommodating you—doing whatever it was that I had to do so that we could live in some type of order. You put all of that responsibility on me when you decided that the entire fucking world was against you, and your only response was going to be to give up and succumb to your bitterness.”