by Karina Halle
“A mother. A younger brother and sister. They’re back in London.”
“Did your father skip out too?”
“I never knew him. But yes. Knocked up my mom and that was it. Then my mom got knocked up by two other guys, had my siblings. None of them stuck around, so it was up to me to help my mom raise them.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.”
“No need to be sorry. I’m not. It’s just life. Managed to finish high school, then went straight to the army. Figured it was the easiest way to support everyone.”
“They must be very proud of you.”
He shrugs lightly, his brow furrowing. “Maybe. I wouldn’t know. It’s hard to keep in touch with them, but I try. And send them money too, my mum particularly. She’s had a tough go with life.”
“So you were in the army a long time.”
He nods. “Was the best decision I ever made. It kept me in line, made me stand up straight and take responsibility. You probably wouldn’t believe that I was a bit of a wanker when I was young. Shit disturber, always in trouble. Drinking, drugs, you name it. I suppose it was me rebelling at having to act like a father at such a young age. Going into the army kept me from a dark and dirty fate.”
Every little piece of himself that Harrison reveals feels like a gift and a revelation. It all makes so much sense now. His cool, calm, and collected demeanor, his need to be in control. He couldn’t be better suited for his job, but it might explain why he’s so devoted to it. He’s afraid to slip up.
I hope he’s not slipping up now. He’s just finished his second beer and is halfway through number three. Maybe eating something is a good idea.
“Have you ever had duck wings before?” I ask, picking up the menu. “They’re amazing here. So is their fish and chips. Freshly caught halibut.”
He gives me a wry look as he takes his menu. “You getting paid to say that?”
“Hey, I’m big on food. If a place has good food, I’ll shout it from the rooftops.”
His eyes flick over the menu. “Then I’m surprised that you’re not out and about here more often.”
“I guess you can say both of us desperately needed a night out, then. Maybe I’m coming to realize I can’t stay a hermit forever.”
“Can’t live in fear,” Harrison says, his voice dropping a register. “But that’s easier said than done. Isn’t it?”
I mull that over while Harrison flags down Amy again and we put in an order for a pound of duck wings, plus another beer and a highball of Scotch for Harrison. I’ve decided I have zero business telling him what he can and can’t drink. He’s a grown man. He makes his own decisions. And I was the one who insisted he come with me, and he did.
Besides, I’m still thinking about what he said. About the fear. And that there’s a moment when fear no longer serves you, no longer protects you. It harms you and holds you back. I might be at one of those thresholds, where my desire to keep myself and my mother safe from harm, specifically the harm of others’ opinions and thoughts, might actually do more damage in the long run. I can’t speak for my mother and how she feels, but I think it’s healthier for me to put myself out there, even if there’s a chance doing so might hurt me.
Amy comes back with the beer and whisky first, and by the time she brings the duck wings, Harrison is already done with his drinks and is ordering another round.
And he’s starting to look a little drunk. His eyes have lost that intensity, seem a little unfocused.
“Don’t worry about me,” Harrison says, his brow lined as he looks me over. “I see your worrying all over your face.”
I try to make my face look as smooth as possible. “I’m not worried,” I say brightly, lying. “Maybe you’re not used to me wearing this much makeup.”
“You’re right. I’m not.” He doesn’t sound happy about it.
“Let me guess: You think I look better without all of it?”
“I think you look beautiful either way.”
Whoa.
My eyes go round, but he doesn’t seem to notice what he’s said.
He’s drunk, I remind myself.
Though don’t drunk people speak the truth?
Beer goggles, I counter.
And then Joey comes out of the pub, striding across the patio toward us.
“Duck wings, nice,” he says, nodding at the plate. “Always a favorite.” He gives me a pointed look. “You didn’t come to see me play, did you?”
“I didn’t even notice your band was playing,” I tell him honestly. “Sounded a lot like the band before.”
I can practically see his hackles go up. That bothers him. He hates the cover band, thinks it’s beneath a musician to cover other people’s music, even though I know he plays a few covers as well.
He looks to Harrison. “Hey, you know what? We were just talking about you. I know who you are.”
Harrison glances up at him, squinting. “And?”
“You’re the bodyguard. To the prince and princess or whoever they are. On Scott Point, right beside Piper. This all makes so much sense now.”
“What do you mean?” I ask sharply.
Joey laughs and points at me and then at Harrison. “I mean, come on. I knew you guys weren’t a couple; that made no sense at all. Figures that you’re her bodyguard or something, though honestly I don’t know why anyone would bother pestering Piper here. She’s just a schoolteacher, no one important.”
There are so many infuriating things to unpack with that spiel that I can’t even say anything and just stew in my burning, indignant anger.
“Why wouldn’t we be a couple?” Harrison asks, his voice so steely and calm that any sane person would hightail it out of here.
Not dense, ignorant, righteous Joey. “Well, sir, I don’t normally compliment another man, but you’re definitely out of her league.” He shoots me a faux sad look. “No offense, Piper. You’re just, you know, and he’s just . . . well, I don’t think you’d be leaving him at the altar like you did to me.”
And there it is.
His words hit me like a slap in the face and then sink to the pit of my stomach, turning over in knots, then fire back up like I’m a fucking volcano.
I jump to my feet, the chair knocking back, and yell, “You’re the one who cheated on me during your bachelor party! I didn’t leave you at the altar. I called it off earlier because I found out that you were a cheating asshole!”
“Sure. Keep telling people that. No one in this town believes you. Except maybe this guy, if he’s dumber than he looks.” He jerks his thumb at Harrison.
And Harrison is quicker than a lightning bolt. In one fast, smooth move, he reaches out and grasps Joey’s thumb with one large hand, squeezing it, ready to snap it in two.
Joey lets out a squeal, and now everyone on the patio is looking at us.
“Is this how you treat all your customers?” Harrison snarls at him, the venom in his voice and in his eyes unmistakable. “By calling them dumb? Is that how you run your business?”
“Let go of me,” Joey pleads, sniveling and pathetic. “Let go of me. You have no idea who I am, who my family is.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck who your family is,” Harrison says. “But I will let go of you.” He releases Joey’s thumb, and Joey snatches it to his chest, cradling it. “And if you ever insult me or Piper again, or any other customer who has come in here on a Friday night to give you business, then I’ll make sure the world knows about it. See, your island is small. But my world? It’s bigger than you can even imagine. Now, if you want to save your bloody pub, I’d apologize, and mean it, and then wipe our bill clean.”
With everyone here watching, and knowing that the pub is full of tourists who don’t give a rat’s ass about his family’s history on the island, Joey is trapped.
He looks at me, and I glare right back at him as he
says, “Sorry, Piper.”
He can barely make eye contact with Harrison. I don’t blame him. “And I’m sorry to you. The bill is on me. Whatever else you want is on the house.” Joey waves Amy over. “Amy will take care of you.”
“Better late than never,” Harrison mumbles under his breath.
Joey then walks quickly out of the patio, avoiding the eyes of the customers as he passes by. Amy, on her best behavior and with a nervous smile plastered on her face, takes Harrison’s order for a double of Scotch.
When she leaves, I let out a long, shaky breath, staring at Harrison with a mix of trepidation and awe. “I thought you were going to kill him.”
Harrison closes his eyes and breathes in deeply through his nose. “I wanted to.”
“You stayed in control.”
He nods. “Barely.” He opens his eyes and looks at me. “He deserves so much worse than what he got.”
“I know. But humiliating him is just as good.”
“The nerve he has to talk to you like that . . .”
“Like I said, I know my assholes.”
“I don’t understand how you could have been engaged to him.”
I give him a tight, sad smile. “I didn’t understand until my therapist explained why. Since then, I’ve been single. Guess I’m too afraid of making the same mistake. Too afraid of being attracted to the wrong people. Least I know the warning signs now.”
“And what are those?”
“Someone who’s handsome, controlling, emotionally unavailable.”
Something in my words must strike a chord with him, because he flinches slightly. “That sounds a lot like me. Especially the handsome part.”
“At least you can admit you’re emotionally unavailable.”
“Just what I’ve been told,” he says, and then starts looking around. “Where is that drink?”
With that slightly awkward blip over, the rest of our night at the Blowhole passes uneventfully. I talk a lot about my mom, and the other assholes I dated, and the work I did with my therapist, and my complex PTSD and everything like that, while Harrison listens and drinks. And drinks, and drinks.
Soon I know it’s time to leave. He’s slurring his words and wavering slightly in his chair.
“Okay, time to go, I think,” I tell him softly, getting to my feet.
Harrison grumbles something and then gets up, and for a moment I think he’s about to keel over. I go to him and take his arm, pulling him across the patio and leading him out of the pub.
It takes a bit of effort to get him in the car. It’s feeling more and more like I’m trying to see how many clowns can fit in a Volkswagen, and while I’m driving us home, he passes out, his head against the window.
Shit. What a night. Never in my wildest dreams did I think it would end up like this, with Harrison getting shitfaced and threatening to break Joey’s thumb and ruin his restaurant. In a way I’m glad it happened, because Joey needed to be put in his place, especially after he was so insulting to the both of us, but I can’t help but feel a little uneasy that this is going to come back to bite us in the ass in some way. In small towns, but especially on an island, word travels fast.
A little too fast.
With the gate fob at the ready, we pull past the SUV and then up the driveway, Harrison suddenly stirring.
“No,” he says, slurring. “Don’t take me back. I don’t want them to see me like this.”
I pause and then reverse back down the driveway and turn left into mine, coming to a park.
“You just need to sleep this off,” I tell him, getting out of the car. “Come on.”
I go over to his side, open the door, and start to pull him out of the car. He doesn’t come easy. When he gets to his feet, there’s a lot of his weight leaning on my shoulders, his arm around me for balance, and it feels like I’m trying to stop a giant boulder from rolling down the hill.
We stagger up to the house and open the door. My mother’s bedroom door is closed. Liza is probably in there with her, which is good. She doesn’t need to see this and worry.
We make our way to my bedroom, and I lead Harrison to the bed, where he keels over facedown.
I then unlace and pull off his boots, noting his brightly colored yellow socks, and take a throw blanket from the easy chair and toss it over him. I get a glass of water and some Advil from the kitchen and put it by the bedside table. He’s already asleep and snoring lightly.
I pause, taking a moment to really look at him, his massive frame making my queen-size bed look like a single. This mysterious broody man, my next-door neighbor, finally feels like someone I could really get to know.
I just hope that tonight doesn’t change him, doesn’t make him take two steps back to make up for this one tiny step forward.
I close the door. I grab extra blankets from the linen closet, then go to sleep on the couch.
Thirteen
I wake up with a start.
Something rattled me awake, put my hair on end, even before I figure out where I am. What is it? What’s happening?
It’s dark, almost black save for the power light on the TV. I’m on the couch, tangled in the fleece blanket, and there’s something going on.
There it is. A choked cry.
But it’s not my mother.
I get to my feet, stumbling across the dark living room, running my shin right into the cedar coffee table. I wince, seeing stars for a moment (that’s gonna leave a bruise!), and then I open the door to my bedroom, rushing inside.
My eyes have adjusted. Harrison is on his back on top of the covers, his head moving back and forth, mouth open. Another doomed cry comes from his lips as his face contracts in anguish.
“Hey,” I whisper. “Hey, hey, you’re okay.”
I put my hands on his shoulder, barely touching him, not wanting to scare him. When he doesn’t seem to wake, I shake him a little harder.
“Harrison. Harrison Cole. Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
His head stops moving, and his eyes slowly open, his breath labored. He blinks into nothing for a moment and then looks at me, visibly shaken.
“What . . . Where, where am I?” he gasps.
I keep pressure on his shoulder, hoping it’s more soothing than restrictive. Not that I could restrain him. I can feel the power and muscle beneath my hand.
“You’re okay, it’s me, Piper. You’re in my bed. You were having a nightmare.”
In the dim light I see his shining eyes finally focus on me. He takes in a deep gulp of air, his body relaxing slightly under my touch.
“Piper,” he manages to say, licking his lips. If the situation weren’t so worrisome and dire, I’d be more distracted than I already am by the fact that he’s licking those lips and he’s lying in my bed.
“It’s me,” I tell him, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “You fell asleep on my bed.”
He blinks a few times at me and then seems to remember what happened.
“Fuck,” he swears, his voice still thick with sleep. “That was unreal.”
I sit on the edge of the bed. “What were you dreaming about? Do you remember?”
“Yeah,” he says, nodding, his eyes still looking a little wild. He swallows. “Yeah. It’s always the same.”
He seems in such a wild, fragile state that I don’t want to press him too much.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shakes his head and sits up. His eyes pinch together, wincing. “No.”
“Here,” I tell him, fetching the water and pills from the bedside.
He shakes his head again, brushes the glass and pills away. “I’m okay. I need to go back. They’re probably worried.”
“It’s the middle of the night. They’re probably asleep. Just stay and sleep for a bit. You can go back in the morning.”
But he’s already getting out of bed. He’s unsteady on his feet, and I leap up to press my hand against his chest in case he topples over again.
Here we are. In the dark. In my bedroom.
I’m pressed right up against him. His chest feels as hard as a rock beneath my fingers. He’s staring down at me, his breath raspy. I keep my focus on his chest because I’m afraid to meet his eyes.
“I need to go back,” he says, his voice low and rough, and at such close proximity it sends shivers down my spine. “But thank you.”
I dare to look up at him. In the dim light his eyes are fixed on mine, the line between his brows deepening.
Our faces are so close. If I stood on my toes, I could kiss him.
I won’t.
But for the first time, I’m consumed by how much I want to.
It was easier to ignore before. It’s impossible to ignore now.
Is it the same for him?
Does he feel this? The tension that crackles like a live wire, the pull that I feel toward him like a planet orbiting the sun.
“Thank you for what?” I whisper.
He swallows.
“Taking care of me.” His eyes search mine, glittering in intensity, seeming to wrestle with something. “It’s been a very long time since I’ve had that,” he murmurs.
Then he reaches out and brushes a strand of my hair back, tucking it behind my ear. Keeps his palm pressed against my cheek.
His face dips down an inch, and I suck in a sharp breath as his gaze drops to my open mouth.
Oh my god.
I’m frozen in place, frozen in time, knowing that Harrison is about to kiss me and . . .
He pulls back. Clears his throat. “I better get going.”
Then he walks around me, leaving me feeling cold.
He sits on the end of the bed and slips his boots on and I want to say something, anything, but I can’t. My skin feels alive where he touched me, my heart aching for that kiss that never came. I’m confused and tired, and damn it, I’m yearning.
“I’ll see you later,” he says to me once his boots are on, not bothering to lace them up. Then he’s walking to the front door, and then he’s gone.