“That’s not really how that works.”
“It worked for Royal,” he says. “Seeing y’all… If he can love you enough to make you forgive him, anything’s possible. Maybe she can forgive me, too.”
“If she won’t, you come get me, and I’ll kick her ass,” I say.
He laughs quietly. “Deal. And don’t worry, I’ll be home soon.”
“Good,” I say. “Because if you don’t come home, I’ll come get you and kickyourass.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” he says.
As the last colors in the sky turn to streaks of purple and bruise-blue, Preston stands and holds out a hand. I take it and let him pull me up. Then I throw my arms around him, holding on for one more minute.
“And Harper,” he says. “If I don’t come back for a while… You can visit me here, you know. The world doesn’t cease to exist at the Faulkner city limits. You should get out of that town, too.”
“I am,” I say. “I’m going to Syracuse next year.”
There’s a silence while those words sink in for both of us. I don’t think I’d really let myself decide, let myself believe it was real, until this moment. But I’d be beyond stupid to turn that opportunity down. This isn’t like when I turned down Preston’s offer to include me in the Darling fortune if I was one of them. They didn’t give a shit about me, even when my mother begged for help as a homeless sixteen-year-old mom after two men from that family had their fun with her.
Royal’s always given a fuck about me, even when I hated it and long before I understood it. Royal loves me and wants to take care of me. There’s no reason to say no to that except stubborn pride, and I’m done trying to do it all on my own. Royal is part of my life now, and letting him in and needing him the way he needs me doesn’t make me weak. Admitting I’m not bulletproof, that I need help, takes a hell of a lot more humbling and strength than pushing everyone away. Being strong enough to be let down my guard and be vulnerable even after I’ve been hurt, to let people in even knowing some of them will hurt me again, and to forgive them when they do, is the hardest thing I’ll ever do.
Walking away from Faulkner is easy in comparison.
When Preston turns on the truck, the song by Dolly Beckett is playing again. I reach to turn it off, but he catches my hand.
“Leave it.”
“It’s her, isn’t it?” I ask. “She’s your sun.”
“Maybe,” he admits. “Someday.’
We ride back and park in front of the little yellow house on a quiet, residential street. It’s no bigger than my house, but the similarities end there. While my house is a drab, decrepit ranch-style brick house, theirs is bright and airy, and even though it’s pretty old, it’s been kept up, so it’s more vintage than shabby and depressing. We have tiny windows, half of them fitted with AC units trailing condensation stains, while this one has white shutters and curtains and little flower boxes. The house is cute, but it’s nothing like the fancy Darling houses in Faulkner.
We spent most of Sunday driving, and the entirety of Monday running around trying to get information. Preston spent hours combing through pictures of the people who work at Nyso Records and finally found the guy Dolly mentioned. Then it took a hell of a good sob story and a healthy sum of cash to get an address. Once we found them, it took a couple more days of filling them in on everything that’s happened since they left and convincing them to come back even though it’s not safe yet.
But I know it’ll all be worth it—for all of us.
Either that, or the biggest mistake any of us have ever made.
twenty-four
Crystal Darling
What do you do when your whole world shifts in a moment? When the past catches up, and suddenly it’s your present? Your life is uprooted, overturned, packed in the back of a Honda. And then you have to decide if you’ll run again, the way you always did, or go crawling back.
Last time we ran.
This time we crawl.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past few years, it’s that I don’t need much to be happy,” Devlin says, depositing a key fob into my hand. “But damn it feels good to spend money again.”
“Are you saying love isn’t all you need?” I tease, smiling up at him. We’re outside a Mercedes dealership, having just made our first major purchase since my wedding ring.
“Sugar, your love is more than all I need.” His hands fall on my hips, and he backs me against the car, kissing me hard and deep right there on the car lot. My thighs open for him, and he rocks against me just once, enough for me to feel that he’s hard. My breath comes quick as his hand wraps gently around my throat.
“Any questions?” he asks, his hips keeping me pinned, his eyes shimmering with lust as they bore into mine.
“No questions,” I whisper, my thighs trembling and wetness blooming between. My body still responds to his touch the way it did when we met, before he or I knew how much I liked his hand around my throat.