“Once.” The memory of it still made him feel itchy inside. “I was around Bree’s age, maybe a year older, and I was failing math. I was worried if I didn’t get at least a C on the next test, Papa and Nonnie wouldn’t let me go to basketball camp so I copied the answers of a buddy of mine.”
“Did you get in trouble?”
“Not at school. The teacher didn’t seem to notice but when I brought home an A, Papa and Nonnie thought it very suspicious that I’d gone from barely passing to getting such a good grade. So, they decided to see if I’d really learned what I needed to in order to pass that test. They got another test from one of the teachers at school and made me take it at home. I didn’t do so well and I had to admit to them that I’d cheated.”
“Did they take away your video games?”
“They grounded me which meant I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything for two weeks. Including basketball camp.” It’d been the most miserable two weeks of his life. “I learned that no matter how much I want something, I can’t take the easy way. If I wanted a good grade, I’d have to earn it.”
Max’s head hung so low, his chin hit his chest. “I can’t.”
“You can’t what?”
“I can’t get good grades. I try, I try real hard to listen and to understand but things get mixed up in my head and then I forget what Mrs. Kavanagh said and I can’t remember how to spell the words and which letters are which.” He started crying softly. “Everyone else in class gets good grades. They get stars and happy faces, and it’s easy for them but not for me. I’m the dumbest kid in my class.”
“Hey, you are not dumb,” he said firmly. He stood and gathered his little boy in his arms, sat with him on his lap. “You are bright and creative. Some kids just learn differently than others. It’s like not everyone can draw and paint as well as you do.”
Max laid his head against Eddie’s shoulder like he used to when he was little. “I just wanted to be one of those kids who got a good grade for once.”
Harper’s words about Max finding success floated through his mind. She was right. He really had been an idiot not to see what his son needed, to let his pride and fears keep him from doing what was best for Max.
“I didn’t do very well in school either,” Eddie told Max. “But I had help and I’ll get you help, too, as much as you need. All I want is for you to do the best you can. It doesn’t matter what grades anyone else is getting, you hear me? All that matters is that you’re trying your hardest.”
Max turned and hugged him, and Eddie knew he’d finally done the right thing. Luckily, it wasn’t too late for him to give his son what he needed. He just hoped he wasn’t too late to fix things with Harper, either.
* * *
“I THOUGHT ABOUT what you said,” Eddie told Harper the moment she opened the door.
He stepped forward but she shut the door so that only her body was visible, her message clear. He wasn’t welcome in her home.
She didn’t want him there.
How dare he show up all glowering and intense and act as if she should welcome him with open arms? Did he really think she was just going to forget everything he’d said—or, better yet, all the things he’d never said?
“Your thoughts are your own,” she said, proud that she sounded so strong and snippy, “and none of my business. You’ve made that perfectly clear.”
He blushed but she didn’t feel the least bit remorseful. “I’d like to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
“Are you going to let me in?”
“No.”
That seemed to take him aback. Good. Seemed she could keep him on his toes, off balance like he’d done to her all these weeks.
“You were right,” he admitted.
“About?”
“Max. He needs help. Lena and I discussed it—”
“You spoke with your ex-wife about this?” There went his lone wolf status.
“We decided this is the best course of action for our son. I’ll sign whatever you want, do whatever you need to help him. Including putting him in special classes.”
At least that was something. She wondered why he’d changed his mind but she wasn’t about to ask. She was done begging him for scraps of information, for his thoughts and feelings.
“Good. I’ll set things up when I go into school in the morning. Good night.”
And she shut the door.
He knocked—make that hammered—on the wood.
She wrenched it open. “Could you keep it down?” she asked quietly. “Cass is in bed.”
And the last thing Harper wanted was her daughter hearing Eddie’s voice, not when it was such a chore just getting the baby away from him.
“We need to talk,” he said, hunching his shoulders. Well, it was cold and windy outside. “About us.”
“There is no us. Again, something you’ve made perfectly clear.”
“I want there to be.”
Her heart went pitty-pat with joy. She ruthlessly squashed the feeling.
“Why?”
He glared. “We’re good together.”
“You mean the sex was good,” she said, beyond disappointed that she’d allowed herself to hope he’d open up to her. Disappointed he didn’t care enough about her to do so. “I’m pretty sure both of us can find that with a number of other willing partners.”
That idea didn’t seem to set too well with him. Too bad.
“I think we should give it a try,” he insisted stubbornly. “You and me. For real. A...a...”
“God, you can’t even say it.”
“A relationship.” He stepped forward, lowered his voice so that it was husky, sexy and intimate. “Let me in so I can convince you.”
He could. She had no doubt about that. But she needed more than just sex, wanted more from the man in her life.
She deserved more.
She shook her head, held on to the door, making it clear she wasn’t going to budge. Not physically or emotionally. “It’s too late. I was going to give you everything I am, everything I have. I would have shared my daughter with you, my heart, my life. But you have nothing to give. Not your heart. Not your thoughts or words. And I realized after I left your house the other night, I want them. I want the man I’m with to have enough respect for me, to care enough about me to give all of that to me and more.”
“You want to change me, for me to be someone I’m not,” he said, sounding angry and resentful.
“No,” she said softly. “I wanted you to share yourself with me fully. But you couldn’t even trust me when it came to your son, couldn’t trust my opinion. I never wanted you to be anyone other than who you were. I just wanted you to share that person with me. It’s partly my fault for expecting so little of you. I thought it would be enough.”
“You thought what would be enough?”
She met his eyes and gave him all she had. “Loving you. I thought loving you would be enough but it’s not. I need you to love me, too.”
* * *
I THOUGHT LOVING YOU would be enough but it’s not. I need you to love me, too.
Harper’s quiet words echoed in his head. Panic slid up Eddie’s spine, spiraled through him. He wanted to shout at her that she didn’t mean it. She couldn’t love him. Love was too big, too powerful. There were too many expectations.
He’d failed at it once.
He wanted to insist she take the words back but he couldn’t get anything out past the tightness of his throat. She looked so sad, so disappointed but resolved, too, as if nothing he did could change her mind.
As if nothing he did could win her back.
“Goodbye, Eddie,” she said, and shut the door, leaving him out in the cold.
He raised his fist, would have pounded on the door but he remembered at the last moment that Cass was sleeping. Cass. He’d lost her, too. The little girl who’d stolen his heart.
He’d never told her, he realized, his entire body going numb. He’d never told Cass how amazing she wa
s, how smart. He’d never told Cass how much she meant to him. That he’d do anything to keep her safe. That he’d protect her always.
That he loved her.
He’d never told Harper any of that either. He’d never given her the words she needed to hear.
And he’d lost her. Forever.
* * *
JOAN SHIVERED IN the cold, almost turned around and went back to her car but she couldn’t run now. She knocked on the hotel door.
It’d been two days since Steve left her. Two days she’d lain in bed, the blinds drawn. She hadn’t eaten or showered, hadn’t brushed her teeth. Hadn’t cared what she looked like or what people might think if they knew she was so overcome with grief, with pain, she couldn’t even get out of bed.
She’d never been more alone.
Even now she looked a fright—her hair a mess, her complexion wan. She’d forced herself to bathe, to get dressed but she’d only pulled a comb through her shampooed hair, hadn’t bothered to style it or put on makeup. She wore sweatpants and one of Steve’s old sweatshirts that still smelled of him. She looked like death warmed over and she didn’t care.
The door opened and Steve frowned at her. “Joan?” He scanned her from head to toe. “Are you all right?”
She must have been asked that question a hundred times since Beau died, and each time she’d force a smile and say she was fine, that she was getting through it, taking it one day at a time and it was easier each day. But hearing it in Steve’s lovely deep voice, seeing the concern and surprise in his eyes undid her.
Tears coursed down her cheeks. “No. I’m not all right. I haven’t been all right in so long, and there are days when I don’t think I’ll ever be all right again.”
Steve ushered her inside his room, led her to the bed and helped her sit. She couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop shaking. He got a bottle of water from the mini fridge, opened it and handed it to her. She sipped, spilling it on her pants.
He took the bottle from her, sat next to her, their legs touching. “What are you doing here?” he asked, not unkindly.
“I miss you,” she whispered.
He nodded, stared at his hands. “I miss you, too. I’ve been missing you for over a year.”
“I wanted so badly to be strong,” she admitted. “I was terrified if I broke down I’d never be able to put myself back together again. It was easier to be numb, to remain that way. But I miss him.” Her voice broke on a sob. “I miss my boy so much. Some days it’s as if I can’t even breathe. And I’m angry. I’m so angry that he was taken away from us, that he won’t get to see Cass grow up, won’t get to drop her off for her first day of kindergarten or see her graduate from high school, won’t get to walk her down the aisle. I’m furious that kid took my child’s life, that he pulled the trigger and that I can’t forgive him for it. And I’m so resentful of everyone who still has their children, who get to see them, talk to them, hug them and tell them how much they love them. It’s not fair. It’s just not fair.”
He held her, smoothed her hair back. “No, it’s not fair. But you’re not the only one who loved him. The only one who misses him. Who mourns him.”
She lifted her head, looked up at her husband through vision blurred with tears. “No, I’m not and I couldn’t see that before and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I hurt you, that I shut you out. I need you, Steve. I need our family. I can’t get through this alone.”
He kissed her temple. “You’re not alone,” he said gruffly. “You’ll never be alone.”
She held him tight and cried, and when she was done, they lay down on the bed side by side, hands entwined, and talked about Beau, remembered her son. Their son. And she knew she’d never get over losing her child, but she would go on. She would heal.
* * *
“UH, YOU’RE NOT PLANNING my violent and gruesome death, are you?” Sadie asked Harper.
Harper, cutting squares of brownies, frowned at her cousin. “Why would I? And doesn’t violent death indicate a gruesome one?”
“To answer your second question, I’m not sure. To answer your first...well...here,” she said, plucking the knife from Harper’s hand. “Let me take this just to be on the safe side. And maybe you should step away from the forks. They look awful pointy.”
“They’re forks,” Harper said. “If they weren’t pointy, they’d be spoons. Now what is it?”
Sadie inhaled deeply and on the exhale said in a rush, “Eddie’s here.”
Harper couldn’t stop herself from glancing over Sadie’s shoulder into the great room and, of course, her gaze immediately zoomed in on Eddie. He stared right back at her.
Harper had debated about accepting Sadie and James’s invitation to their Christmas party, but ultimately had decided she wasn’t going to let her fear of running into Eddie stop her from doing something she wanted to do.
“I’m sorry,” Sadie continued. “I really didn’t think he’d show. James said he avoids all social gatherings that aren’t mandatory—meaning ones his mom and sister throw—and he never actually said he was coming—”
“It’s fine,” Harper said, deliberately averting her gaze. “We run in the same circles—sort of. It’s only natural that we’re going to see each other from time to time. Besides, his son is still in my class and Shady Grove is a small town.”
Small but big enough that she hadn’t seen Eddie in weeks. She’d survived without him. Had gotten through Thanksgiving and Beau’s birthday. The anniversary of Beau’s death. It hadn’t been easy, but she’d managed. And she and Joan were working on repairing their relationship, trying to get back to where they were.
Harper was surprised Eddie hadn’t asked to have Max switched to another teacher. She was glad. She loved that little boy and would’ve been heartbroken if he’d left her class.
She smiled at Sadie, who knew the whole story about what had happened between her and Eddie. “Don’t look so upset. It’s fine,” Harper said again, giving her a hug. “I promise not to make a scene at your party.”
“But I love a good scene,” Sadie said.
Harper laughed. “Maybe your mom will drink too many fuzzy navels and get tipsy. That’s always fun.”
“We can hope,” Sadie said, taking a tray of food into the other room.
Harper shut her eyes briefly. She could do this. She could do this. All she had to do was ignore him. It wasn’t all that big of a house but there was still plenty enough room—and more than enough people—for her to avoid being around Eddie or talking to him.
“Hi.”
Shoot.
Biting back a sigh, she opened her eyes. “Hello.”
Eddie stood before her, a grinning Cassidy in his arms.
Harper smiled tightly. “Looks like someone found her favorite guy.”
“Deddie’s here, Mommy,” Cass said, patting Eddie’s cheek and gazing at him adoringly. “See?”
“Yes, Cass, I see.”
Harper wanted to rip her baby from his arms but that would be cruel as both Eddie and Cass looked pleased as punch to be back together.
“You look pretty,” Eddie said, his gaze intense, his mouth solemn.
Her stomach fluttered. She stopped herself from smoothing a hand down the front of her dress. “Thank you.”
Cassidy took his face in both her hands so that he looked at her. “I pretty, too.”
He nodded. Kissed her nose, which made her smile. “You’re pretty, too.”
And while Harper wished she could stand there and try to make idle chitchat with him, she couldn’t. Not when it was so hard seeing him, hearing his voice. Not when he was being so sweet to her daughter.
“Come on, Cass,” she said, knowing there was only one way she was going to get her daughter away from Eddie without a full-blown tantrum, “I think I hear Santa Claus.”
James and Sadie had hired a Santa for the kids.
Her daughter wiggled so that Eddie set her down. “Santa!” she screamed and ran off into the other room.
&n
bsp; “Thrown over for a fat, bearded man,” Eddie said.
“Yes, well, we women can be quite fickle,” Harper said, forcing a lightness she didn’t feel. “I’d better go check on her before she gets into the presents under the tree again.”
“Harper,” he said, reaching for her but she just shook her head and walked away.
She congratulated herself on being so calm, so poised with him as she went into the great room. Sure, her knees were weak and her palms sweaty but Eddie didn’t know any of that.
“O Holy Night” played in the background and people milled about, eating, drinking and being merry. It was her kind of scene. Christmas, being around people.
She wanted to go home.
Figuring she could slip away in fifteen minutes or so, she checked on Cass, who was with Harper’s parents. She crossed the room toward them.
“Harper.”
She froze. Not because someone had said her name but because Eddie had said her name.
More like bellowed it.
At least it seemed that way coming from the quiet Eddie. She slowly turned, her eyes widening to see him standing in the middle of the room, the conversations around them dying down.
What on earth was he doing?
Her heart sped as he walked purposely toward her. She told herself she didn’t like that glint in his eyes but secretly, she did.
“I miss you,” he said, loud and clear. Loud and clear enough for everyone in the room to hear.
She glanced around, lowered her voice. “What are you doing?”
“I miss you and Cassidy. Max does, too.” He glanced at his son, who nodded shyly then pressed against his grandfather’s leg. Eddie faced her again. “You’re beautiful. I didn’t tell you that enough. I think you’re the most beautiful woman in the world. You make me laugh. You make me a better man.” His gaze held hers as he closed the distance between them. “I need you. I need you so much. Please be in my life. Please be a part of Max’s and my family. Let us be a part of yours. Share your daughter with me, your life.”
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