by Law, Kim
“No. That’s not right. To get the control she wanted.” He looked down at Harper. “She had something called narcissistic personality disorder. If attention wasn’t on her, then she found a way to make it so. People worrying about her gave her that attention.” He thought about how as a small boy, he’d worried about her more than anyone had known. He’d tried to help, to make her happy. He’d wanted her not to feel bad and be stressed all the time.
But he’d never been able to figure out what he could do to make it better.
“I actually caught her hurting herself once,” he shared. A lump formed in his throat. “I was five.”
“Oh, Nick. I’m so sorry. What happened?”
He could feel Harper’s heart pounding against his chest. “She cut off the tip of her finger,” he said. His words were flat. “Literally, cut it off. She caught me watching from the hallway, and screamed that I couldn’t tell anyone. So I ran away and hid in my closet, afraid that if I did tell, then she’d never love me.”
Harper slid her arms around him and pressed her cheek to his chest.
“Only, guilt ate at me,” he continued. “Maybe if she’d loved me to begin with, she wouldn’t have done it. Or maybe I should have run immediately and told someone in order to show her how much I cared.”
He groaned and put the back of his hand to his forehead as he once again stared at the sky. “But then I figured out that she’d cut herself only because she wanted my sister to come home. Dani was in New York City with our aunt. She was having fun, and Mom couldn’t stand it. She would have done anything to get Dani back at that moment, and the sad thing was, I hadn’t mattered in the least. I’d worried myself sick—to the point that I threw up while hiding in my closet—and I had never factored into the equation at all.”
“Your mom was ill.”
“Yes. Very. But I didn’t get any of that at the time. That she brought the problems on herself. That she had a mental issue.” And then he realized what Harper had said. He peered down at her. “You sound like you know something about NPD.”
“I had a friend in the army. Her mother was similar.”
“It wasn’t Thomas?” He asked the question carefully, praying he wasn’t stepping into another minefield.
“No. Though, his parents had other issues. But I did some research on the matter after I learned about it, and from what I remember, I doubt your mom really loved anybody but herself.”
“You’re right, that’s typical. And no, she didn’t.”
“But you didn’t understand that at the time?”
“Right.”
“And you still aren’t convinced of it now?”
Nick stared at her, appreciative of her intuitiveness, and finding that he needed to make her see how he felt. He’d never been able to share these things with Nate. How could he? His mother had beaten into his head that she’d loved Nate more. And though the wedge that had once been driven between the two of them had long since disappeared, he still struggled to talk specifics with his closest brother. “I am convinced of it now,” he finally answered. “I know it. I’ve known it for years.”
“But . . .”
He didn’t take his eyes off Harper. “But at ten years old, I just wanted her to love me. And instead, she died. I took that as my fault.”
“No!” She pushed up off his chest. “It wasn’t your fault.”
“If only I’d made her love me enough,” he said. “If only I’d been tough enough.” He shook his head, feeling like the little boy he’d once been. “Then she wouldn’t have left us.”
“She couldn’t love you, Nick.”
“I know. Logically, I get it. But I was ripped apart when she died. I should have saved her.”
Pain sliced across Harper’s face as she studied him. He could tell she was trying to figure out what to say next. How to make it better. And he could have told her that talking about it was already making it better. But it still wasn’t enough, so he waited. Hoping she’d say something so brilliant that he could suddenly rewrite his emotions from fifteen years ago.
“Refresh my memory . . . how did she die?” When Harper finally spoke, her words came out so softly that Nick could barely hear them in the stillness of the night.
“Car crash.”
“And were you in the car with her?”
He shook his head.
“Then—”
“It doesn’t have to make sense, does it?” He took her hand in his and kissed her palm. “I get that it wasn’t my fault. Yet . . . it still was. I found out years later that she’d caused the crash herself, because she once again wanted Dani’s attention. Dani had gone off to college—back to New York—and Mom couldn’t get her to come home. So she planned the crash to get her to rush home. Only, it didn’t go quite as planned. Mom ended up hitting another car, and died from internal bleeding before anyone even knew it was happening. Cord found her. He says she was asking for Dani up until the end.”
Understanding dawned. “And that bothered you that she asked for your sister?”
He couldn’t answer. Dani’s life had been far worse than his, yet he’d spent years being jealous of her. Angry at her.
“But you know it’s not because she loved Dani more,” Harper said.
He nodded, then looked away. He couldn’t stare into those eyes any longer. That only made it worse. “Hell,” he muttered. He dragged his hand down over his face. “How messed up is that, huh? She had it ten times worse. Yet I was jealous of a sister who—with my own eyes—I saw being treated more unfairly than me.”
“Like you said, it doesn’t have to make sense. Mothers are supposed to love their kids. When that doesn’t happen, I’d suspect a lot of wires get crossed.”
“I suspect you’re right.”
They both grew quiet as he thought back over the years after she’d died. Their mother had hurt her own daughter so much, that at eighteen, Dani had blocked the memories. She’d ended up repainting the past, putting their mother on a pedestal. The rest of them had gone along with it. Why force her to remember? To hurt like they did? And hey, maybe if they all tried hard enough, then they might remember differently, as well. But that never happened. And though he’d been thankful for everything Dani had done, he’d had to get away from her, too.
“I left home at eighteen because I couldn’t stand the thought of being in this house one minute longer,” he told Harper. “My mother was still here. Her presence, anyway. And that presence overshadowed everything. I couldn’t be here. And I never wanted to come back.”
“Yet you do now.”
He gave a single, dry chuckle. “Does that mean I’m maturing?”
“Or just that you have enough distance to finally deal with it.”
Nick gave her a sad smile—knowing she was talking about herself, too—and returned to staring at the stars. He kept a hand on Harper’s back, stroking the length of her spine, and she once again tucked in against his chest. He liked them this way.
And he liked that they were talking.
“I never expected to share all that,” he told her. “And certainly not with someone outside the family.”
“I hope it helped.”
“You help,” he said.
She captured his free hand and kissed his palm the way he’d done hers. “I’m glad.” Then she snuggled in even tighter, and they lay there, the sun fully set now and no lights on in the house, and let the darkness surround them.
At the sound of her stomach rumbling, he suggested going in to forage for food.
“In a minute.”
So he kept her wrapped up in his arms, his wrists crossed at the small of her back.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked a few minutes later.
He kissed the top of her head. “At this point, I’d say either of us could ask the other anything.” He tilted her face up to his. “Lay it on me.”
Her mouth twisted into a half grimace, half smile, and she said, “Will you come to dinner with my family on S
unday?”
At his surprised stare, she continued.
“I know. I totally ditched you when you wanted me to go to Dani’s. I don’t deserve you to even consider it. Yet I’m asking. And not as my date.” She made a face before adding, “Well, I guess technically you’d be my date, but not like a date.”
“Like a not-a-third-wheel kind of date?”
“Well, not that, either. You’d actually be the only man other than my dad there.”
Nick shot her a bored look. “You make it really hard to resist, Stone.”
“I know.” She laughed lightly. “But I swear it wouldn’t be horrible. And it’s not like you don’t already know all of them. Plus, my mom is a really great cook. I’d just tell everyone that you’re coming as a friend. But I need you there because I want them to see that I’m better,” she added. “That I’m trying. They do this dinner once a month to force me out of the house, so if I were to show up with someone, that would take some of the pressure off.”
He studied her for a moment, trying hard not to read too much into what she was asking of him. She wanted to take him to dinner with her family, to show that she was what? Moving on? Getting out there?
Caring about someone else?
And he did think she cared. Though, to what extent he had no idea.
“And my showing up would say to them that you’re better?” he asked.
She nodded. He could see her nerves in the tightness around her eyes. This was important to her.
“Okay. I’ll do it. But on one condition.” He added the last sentence at the exact moment that she looked relieved.
“And what’s that?” She eyed him carefully.
“That you repay me the following Sunday.”
“Dinner with Dani again?”
He shook his head. “They’re out of town. But Dad and Gloria will be back, and apparently my oldest brother will be home, too. I’ll be leaving soon after, so Gloria wants to make dinner a ‘thing’ that night. She’s already e-mailed me about it.”
“Then maybe I shouldn’t be there if it’s going to be a thing.”
“Tit for tat, gorgeous.” He grinned. He had her. “You actually can’t say no.”
“Fine.” She groaned, but she smiled as she said it. “I’ll be there.” She reached up and kissed him. “Actually, I’d love to. I haven’t seen your dad in years, and I’d be honored to meet his new wife.”
“Then it’s a date.”
“Two of them,” she said wryly.
Chapter Seventeen
For someone who didn’t want to date, Harper found it odd that she’d not only invited a man to her parents’ house but that she’d also agreed to have dinner at his. Sometimes her common sense made no sense.
She pulled open her mother’s knife drawer and walked her fingers over the handles until she found the chef’s knife. Then she tugged the basket of zucchini closer and plucked one out. As she made the first cut, the clothes dryer sang a tune from the adjoining room.
“My sheets,” her mother mumbled. She dropped the lid back on the pot she’d been stirring and hustled out of the room.
Harper smiled to herself as her mother disappeared. Sunday was sheets day. Every bed in the house got stripped whether it had been slept in that week or not. The practice struck her as a complete waste of time, given that three of the four children who’d grown up there no longer slept in most of those beds.
She continued chopping while listening to the light humming now coming from the laundry room. She loved spending time with her mom. And even better, she’d been at the house for the last two hours, and not once had she been grilled about “how she was doing.” She’d also barely let herself think about Nick. Or the fact that they’d had a fantastic time together the last few days.
They hadn’t done much of anything—she’d helped with chores at the farm and they’d failed at making Parmesan chicken. He’d kissed her on the back of her neck, right at the base where it got her every time, and by the time she’d remembered the chicken . . . it had been too late. They’d also flown down to Big Sky and gone fly-fishing the day before. Her contracted flight had cancelled, so she’d offered to take Nick wherever he’d wanted to go.
Then there had been the nights. She almost groaned out loud at the thought of what they’d done during those nights. She’d stayed at the house with Nick the whole time. It hadn’t even crossed her mind to go home that first night after they’d both shared so much of themselves, and other than a quick trip for clean clothes and necessities, she hadn’t left Nick’s side since. Which was mildly disturbing now that she thought about it.
“I’m not here.” This came from Patti as the eighteen-year-old ducked inside the kitchen and poked her head into the fridge. Every month, the four children rotated helping in the kitchen, and this month, cooking fell on Harper. “Just need something to drink,” Patti said. She grabbed an orange juice and left as quickly as she’d shown up. Harper’s youngest sister hated anything to do with being in the kitchen.
She finished slicing the zucchini at the same time that her mother breezed back into the room. “Only one more load to do, but I’ll save that one until later,” her mom said. She turned on the faucet to rinse her hands and spoke over the running water. “Wouldn’t want to have the machines running while your new man is here.”
Harper rolled her eyes. “You know he’s not my man, Mom.”
“Well, is he coming over for dinner or isn’t he?”
“As a friend.” She handed her mother a clean towel. “Only. Not as my man.”
Instead of immediately replying, her mother took her time drying her hands, then opened the oven door and peered in. She closed it, the snapper remaining inside, but as she returned to the stovetop, she cast a glance Harper’s way. “So are you telling me that you haven’t slept with him?”
“Mom!” Harper yelped. She was horrified. “Why would you even . . .” She stopped talking and gaped at her mother. Was nothing sacred anymore? Mothers and daughters weren’t supposed to talk about such things. Her cheeks flamed.
“I’m just saying, that new color in your cheeks looks nice on you,” her mom added.
“That color is embarrassment.” Harper pointed to her burning cheeks. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”
Her mom’s eyes suddenly twinkled. “You have, haven’t you?” She nodded knowingly. “I can tell. I remember what it was like when your father and I first got together. Mmmm. That man. I practically floated on air.”
“Really, Mom.” Harper shook her head and wanted to disappear. Jewel definitely got her outrageousness from their mother. “It’s nothing. We’re not together. Not in the way you mean. We’re just—” She shrugged, going for casual, but in the end she couldn’t stop the grin that stretched across her cheeks. She hung her head in shame. “We’re just having some fun,” she finished.
“Well, fun looks good on you.” Her mom kissed her cheek. “It’s what you need.” She winked when Harper peeked back up at her. “Even if it is just temporary.”
“Well, it is just temporary,” Harper grumbled. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking it could be anything else. I don’t—” Her voice cracked, and she took a moment to clear her throat as she thought about all she’d never have. “It’s all it’ll ever be, Mom. I can’t . . .” She ended with a shake of her head and a tight-lipped frown.
“It’s okay, sweetie.” Her mom gave her a warm hug. “This is good. Anything other than sitting home alone is good.”
“I know.” And she did. Her mom might say that fun looked good on her, but Harper knew the changes had come from more than the last three nights of sex. It was because she’d finally begun to heal. Not that she’d ever be completely healed. Her husband was dead. Her child never to be born. Those were burdens she’d forever bear.
But she was able to breathe freely for the first time since the accident, and that was due to Nick. She owed the man a huge thanks for getting in her face and not letting her push him away.<
br />
And for the first time, she thought about just how temporary all of this was. His dad would be home in a week. Which meant only seven more days.
Her mother took the vegetables to the stove while Harper opened cabinet doors and pulled down dinnerware, and together, they fell into silence as they finished preparations. Harper set the table in the dining room, taking extra care to make everything look just right, and when the doorbell rang on her last trip into the kitchen, her heart skipped a beat.
She looked at her mom, and cracked up at the sight of her mother giving her a naughty brow waggle.
“Mom,” she groaned out. She wiped off her hands and pulled the apron from her waist.
“I’m just saying,” her mother murmured. “Don’t think that temporary means you can’t have a heck of a good time.”
That darned smile returned to Harper’s face, and she decided to give her mother a piece of her own medicine. “Oh, I can definitely promise you I’ll have a good time. In fact”—she leaned in so Patti or her dad wouldn’t hear if either wandered through—“I plan to have multiple good times every night. And maybe again each morning.”
She headed to the front door to the sound of her mother’s laughter.
Pulling the door open, she was surprised to find not only Nick waiting outside, but Jewel and Chastity, as well. The three of them were deep in conversation, debating the merits of male versus female pregnancy, and she caught Nick’s eye over her sisters’ heads. Their shared smile made her feel all warm inside.
“The human race would end if men had to go through this,” Jewel declared. She entered the house, with Chastity on her heels.
“And I’m saying that until you walk in a man’s shoes, give your poor husband a break.”
Jewel laughed good-naturedly at Nick’s words, and as he stepped into the house, he leaned in, and with his hand on the small of Harper’s back, pressed a kiss to her lips. The move shut up both her sisters instantly as they stood there, mouths agape.