“Zander.” It was Harrison who spoke, but I still couldn’t look at him. I turned, shook my head. Everything was blurry. Jesus, was I crying? Why in the fuck was I crying? I hadn’t shed tears over my asshole dad in a long time. My hands threaded through my hair, tangled there, and tugged. “Zander…” he said again, so gently, so full of compassion. I wanted him to fix it, wanted him to help me, to help them, and that was so fucking scary and dangerous because I’d never counted on anyone in my life. From what I’d seen, love hurt and it wasn’t forever. It wasn’t the answer to your problems and often just caused more.
“Fuck…stop. I can’t do this right now, okay?” Because if my own father didn’t love me enough to stay, how could someone else? If someone as good as my mom couldn’t count on the person she’d loved her whole damn adult life, how could I? “I just need to get shit done. That’s how I deal. I need to do something. It’s the only thing that will help me sort through this, so I’m going to go home, and I’m going to figure out what he took, and I’m going to change the locks and—Did you check the bank account to make sure he didn’t manage to get any money?” He’d done that before, but I didn’t know how. “We should get on the road. How’s the gas in the car, Mom?”
She was watching me, a broken heart in her eyes. I couldn’t handle looking at her, so I risked a glance at Harrison, who had a similar expression. My gaze darted away just as quickly.
“You should take the Hyundai. How else will you get back home?” Harrison asked. “Or you can drive the SUV, pack up some things, and—Ashley, you and Molly are welcome to stay here for a while if you need to get away.”
“Stop doing that! Stop trying to help us! I can’t get used to that, Harrison. If I count on you, it’ll kill me when you walk away. I’ve gotten too close the past couple of months. Don’t you see? I can’t love you like she loves him, and you made me do it anyway, damn it! When you leave, when you get tired of all my shit or my problems or you just want to go, it’s going to devastate me. I wasn’t supposed to love you!” I shouted. “I wasn’t supposed to want…strings.” I waved my hand through the air as if that made any damn sense.
Molly and Mom were crying, and Jesus, I still was too. I wasn’t supposed to do this. I was supposed to hold it together. I was supposed to fix things and take care of my family.
I didn’t see him move, but then Harrison was there, cupping my cheek, fingers swiping away my tears. “I love you too. I am so fucking in love with you, Zander. I’m not going anywhere, not ever, not unless you want me to.”
I didn’t want that, for him to leave. Not now, not ever…and wait, he loved me? How could he, someone like him… “I’m scared,” I admitted.
“So am I. You think only you have the ability to get hurt? I do too. I’ve made it forty-one years without feeling this constant ache, this need for someone, and now I have. For this beautiful fucking man who is seventeen years younger than I am. Who very much might decide I’m not what he wants. You’re not the only one taking a risk here, but I’m willing to do it because the reward is you. I’m absolutely crazy about you, Mr. Wescott. How can you not know that? You said you want strings, but don’t you see? You’ve had them since the start.”
I looked at him, held his gaze, and let myself see what I’d refused to acknowledge before, what I wasn’t sure I deserved but wanted anyway. Harrison loved me. This was more than just sex, and it always had been. I’d felt a connection to him that first night, and it had only grown since.
I couldn’t find words right then; they were stuck in my head and in my heart. When I pushed forward to kiss him, another voice stopped me. “Don’t forget you’re not alone!” Molly broke through the moment.
Because I had. I’d forgotten.
I looked at my sister, and at my mom, who was crying but smiling at me. This was…awkward.
“You’re not me,” Mom said. “Harrison is not like your father. Don’t hold yourself accountable for our mistakes. Don’t miss out on someone you love, someone who loves you, because of us. The mistakes we’ve made have been our own, and none of it, none of it means you’ll have the same fate.”
I knew that, I did, but…at the same time I didn’t. Christ, being alive was hard sometimes. Why did your heart and your brain so often war against each other? It would be so much easier if they were always in sync.