“As far as I know, you’ll have full access as soon as you turn twenty-three. The motion your father filed was withdrawn a few days ago. Sorry I didn’t get in contact with you sooner. I was in court most of the week.” He’s apologetic, and considering it’s good news, I’m not upset.
“I appreciate everything you’ve done, Chuck. I really do. Do you happen to know if my parents are still in Europe?”
“Last I knew, they had purchased tickets back to Chicago. I’m not sure if they’re home yet or not. I can get an update for you tomorrow if you like.”
I knew they wouldn’t chase us forever, but I was hoping their search would last a little longer. It would have given me more time to plan, more time to prepare. As long as they’re in Chicago, two-thousand miles away from Daphne until she completes rehab, everything is going to be fine, right?
“No, that’s okay. Thanks again, Chuck. I’ll let you get back to your party.”
Hanging up, a let out a sigh of relief. As long as I can gain access to my trust fund on my birthday, everything is going to work out fine. I’ll be able to find Daphne and me a place to live, which will give me time to find a job. She’ll be able to start school on time, and life as we know it will go back to some semblance of normal.
My thoughts strike deep.
Back to normal. My normal. In Chicago.
Away from Harley. And Phoenix.
I can’t ask her to come with me. That wouldn’t feel right. It’s too soon, and at the same time, I don’t want to uproot Phoenix. They’ve moved a few times, and the last thing I want is to shake his life up any more than it’s already been.
Plus, I’d hate for him to think I’m trying to replace his father. I’m not. I love the kid, we’re buddies, but if anything ever were to happen between Harley and me, I wouldn’t want him to look at me like that. I want to be his friend, and moving him across the country makes it seem like I want to be more like a family.
What do I know?
I haven’t had the best role models when it comes to family. Maybe that’s not what it looks like. It has to be about more than living under the same roof. Having the same last name. Sharing DNA.
Eventually, that’s something I want. A family of my own. One that’s functional and loving. To wake up every day and smile at the woman next to me. To be called Dad. For family day to involve the whole family interacting with one another, not just being around each other.
Downing the last of the wine Harley poured for me hours ago, I watch as a happy couple walks hand in hand down the street. They’re both smiling and laughing as they hold hands, oblivious to me observing them. They appear happy, but are they? Or are they putting on a show in case someone is watching?
My parents used to do that.
In public, we were the picture-perfect family. Loving husband and wife. Happy kids. My father would wrap his arm around my mother. Show her affection. My mother would always hold my hand and carry Daphne until she was too big. There’s even an oil painting my father had commissioned one year of the four of us.
It screams rich, uptight family. Fake smiles and color-coordinated outfits. My mother wearing her finest jewelry. My father in a suit and tie. Daphne and I wearing our Sunday best. It doesn’t show how miserable we were, how disconnected.
It’s a portrayal of how my father wanted people to see us. Our social status.
The thing is, I don’t want to be known for the stereotype I was born into. I want to make a name for myself on merit, and that’s something I’m afraid I won’t be able to do unless I’m able to distance myself not only from my family and our name but from Chicago.
The very place I’m headed back to soon.
Shaking away the thought of having to leave, I try and focus on what I can control. Like how I act and the choices I make moving forward. Yes, I want to keep Daphne in mind, but I’m done making decisions that are only in her best interest. I need to think about myself.
The first thing I have to do is find a job. One that will allow me to support us comfortably. Preferably, one that’s here. I understand it would be better for Daph to be home with friends for her final year of school, but with all the changes she’s making right now, it might be better if she doesn’t return to the place this all started.
We still don’t know where she was getting the drugs. She refuses to give up her dealer or talk about how it all started, at least with me. I’ve tried. I’m sure Harley has tried as well, but I’m not sure if Daph’s come clean with her. I have a meeting with Vivian at the end of this week to discuss Daphne’s progress, and I’ll learn more.
Taking a seat on the couch, I open the browser on my phone. A quick search shows how many available positions there are here in San Diego. I’m not surprised. A city of this size will always have endless opportunities for someone like me. My degree is versatile. I’m qualified for a variety of jobs, but before I can apply for anything, I need to update my resume and do some research on a few of these companies.
That’s not going to happen tonight. I’m not about to try and do that from this cheap-ass phone I bought. It’s good for texting and making calls, scrolling the internet in a pinch, but the screen is tiny, and I want to put my best foot forward. That means purchasing a new laptop since I didn’t bring mine with me.
I’m about to call it a night when there’s a soft knock on my door. I’m not expecting anyone, and there are only two people that it could be. Phoenix is more than likely asleep, so that leaves Harley.
It’s after ten o’clock.
We said goodnight hours ago.
There’s only one thing she could want at this hour, and she made it crystal clear earlier that we had to wait. Until Daphne was done with her treatment.
Still, I’m intrigued, so I open the door. What I find causes my heart to send all my blood rushing south.
Harley.
Hair pulled high on her head.
Low-cut tank top and tiny silk shorts.
No bra.
No shoes.
“Hey,” she says.
I was planning on saying hello. The word was on the tip of my tongue, but my mouth went dry. She looks amazing. Sexy as fuck. Her legs are on display, and I want to find out if they’re as soft as they look.
I’ve seen her every day for the last two weeks, and she’s always looked amazing. Tonight, right now, standing outside my door, she looks like a fucking goddess.
“Uh, yeah. Hey,” I finally say, licking my lips as my eyes hover over her cleavage.
I can’t look away. They’re perky and her skin is so smooth.
“I was kind of thinking—”
“No more thinking,” I interrupt before she can finish. “I’m done thinking. We’re overthinking things.”
“What do you suggest then?” she asks, the sound of her voice drawing my attention to her lips.
“I think you should come in before someone gets a show they didn’t pay admission for,” I state firmly, wrapping my arm around her waist and pulling her across the threshold.
Shutting the door behind her, I press my body against hers and lean in close. Her eyes are trained on mine as I am completely honest with her for the first time.
“I’m done waiting, Harley. I can’t do it anymore, and I think you’re done too. There’s a reason you came over here tonight. What was it?”
“I…” she stutters but doesn’t look away.
“I’m going to kiss you, and then I’m going to hold you. Nothing more, nothing less. I can’t make you step away from helping my sister. I don’t want you to. I don’t want to hinder her progress, but I can’t stay away from you any longer. It’s not fair to you, and it’s not fair to me.
“If you don’t want me to kiss you, if this isn’t what you want, you need to tell me because I’ve been a very patient man. That ends now. I’m taking what I want as long as you let me.”
Her chest rises and falls against mine, but she doesn’t say a word. The seconds tick by, and then it happens. She grants me pe
rmission with the slightest nod of her head, and I capture her lips before she has a chance to change her mind.
20
Harley
* * *
Regret is hard to explain. It’s complicated.
It’s like a layer cake. Maybe you wish some layers were thicker. A different flavor. Something more complex or something simpler. Maybe you want more layers. Less. You regret not making those decisions before you baked the cake because you can’t change it now.
Alex is my layer cake.
Do I regret going over to Alex’s? Kissing him? Letting him into my heart?
Yes and no.
I’m playing with fire, and I’m bound to get burned, but there was no way I was going to be able to avoid what happened. The spark between us wasn’t going away. If anything, every time I saw him, it was like I was fanning the flames. The mounting tension between us was thick and only intensifying.
I regret going over there because I knew something would happen. I knew if he opened his door and saw me standing in the hall, he would invite me in, and once we were alone, nothing was going to stop us from combusting.
Because that’s what it felt like when our lips met.
Which is also why I don’t regret my decision. Being kissed by Alex shattered my resolve. I was consumed by him. His hands on my hips, gripping tightly as if he was trying to restrain himself. The hint of wine I tasted on his tongue. In the moments we spent connected, everything around us shifted, and nothing mattered outside the four walls of his apartment.
Not my mother. His sister. The lines we were crossing.
I wanted him, and I didn’t care what the consequences were. I’d accept them wholeheartedly for this chance. The opportunity to be with a man who didn’t know much about me but wanted to know everything. He’s accepted my half-truths for weeks, but now I want to tell him everything.
About my past.
About Phoenix.
The truth is the only thing standing in the way of a real relationship with Alex. I’m ready to share it with him. The truth will be what finally sets me free.
When Alex pulls back, resting his forehead against mine, I let out a sigh. I want so much more, but at the same time, I’m content. My heart is hammering against my rib cage, my breathing is rapid, and my hands are shaking as I relax my body against the cool wood of the door, keeping my eyes closed for now.
I want to live in this moment. Just for a little longer. The second I open my eyes, I have to go back to reality, and I’m not ready. Not if reality involves never being able to kiss Alex again.
“I’m not sorry,” Alex finally says.
I can’t help but smile. He could have said anything right now, and it would have brought a smile to my face. But telling me he doesn’t regret what happened… that warms me from the inside out.
“Me either,” I confess, opening my eyes to find Alex staring at me.
“So where do we go from here?” he asks, standing upright, putting a little distance between us.
“You’re asking me?”
“You’re in charge, Harley. You have more at stake than I do. Your job. Phoenix. It’s not just about us. There are other things we need to consider. I want to say fuck it all, but that’s not my choice. It’s yours.”
Damn him for making sense. For bringing up all the things I was working really hard at avoiding. I wanted to live in this moment, our own little bubble, for as long as I could.
He just popped that bubble.
“I’m not worried about Phoenix as long as you keep your promise.”
“I would never leave without saying goodbye to him. Or you. But I don’t want to leave. And if I have to, I’ll be back before you notice I’m gone. I promise.”
“My job is another story. This needs to be our little secret for now. I know we should wait until your sister isn’t my patient anymore, but it’s a little late for that.”
It was too late the moment I opened my door to come over here. Hell, it may have been too late the day he moved in across the hall. Everything’s changed since then. I knew it was a bad idea to let him in, to get close to him, yet we’ve grown closer every day.
“Are you giving me permission to kiss you again? Anytime I want? As long as your boss isn’t watching?” His voice is playful as he pulls my body flush against his.
Tilting my head up, I want to answer, but his devilishly handsome smirk is filled with so much promise all I can do is stare.
“There are things you need to know first,” I hear myself say.
“You too, but not right now. I’m pretty sure we have plans for the rest of the night.”
My body stiffens in his arms. A kiss is one thing. Sex is a different layer of cake. One I have no doubt I’ve love to taste, but I’m not ready for it yet.
That’s a lie. I’m beyond ready. Excited. I also know jumping in would be a mistake. We need to take baby steps. Diving in headfirst may seem like a good idea, but it’s what will ultimately be my undoing. I can’t let myself get attached to him more than I already am.
No matter what he says, he’ll leave. For how long, I don’t know. There’s always a chance he won’t come back, and if that happens, I don’t want to be left with a broken heart. We need to keep our distance as best we can. And by distance, I mean he can kiss me all he wants, but more than that is off the table for now.
“Stop freaking out, Harley. I told you I wanted to hold you, that’s all. Will you let me do that?” Alex’s voice softens as he leans in and places a gentle kiss on my lips.
There are so many sides to this man I’m still learning about. He can be flirtatious and bold. Standoffish. He can also be sweet and charming. Nurturing. Selfless. He’s not apologetic about checking me out. Direct and to the point when he knows what he wants.
Fearless.
God, what it must be like to be fearless, even for a day. I’d give anything to not have to be constantly worrying or looking over my shoulder. One day…
“On one condition,” I say, stepping out of his embrace and skirting around him. He follows me but doesn’t say a word. “You have to tell me a truth. Just one.”
“I can do that.”
Running my hand across the comforter of his bed, the soft fabric ripples beneath my fingers. Lying in bed with him is dangerous. I should move to the couch. It’s barely five feet away. He could hold me there, but it’s not what I want. Judging by the look on his face when I glance over my shoulder at him, it’s not what he wants either.
Silently, Alex and I climb on the bed. Gravitating toward the center, Alex sits against the headboard and wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me as close as we can get. It’s not until my body relaxes, resting my head in the crook of his neck, that he finally speaks.
“I don’t want to be my father. I’ve already told you that. I don’t want to follow in his footsteps. I never have, but it feels like it’s what I’ve been groomed for my entire life, so I’ve gone along with it. The image he portrays is not how I want people to see me. It’s a stereotypical view on the rich, and we’re not all like him. We’re not all cheating bastards that only care about money. That’s my truth.”
I let the realization of his situation sink in. We’re not as different as I once thought. We’re both trying to be someone else, to erase the stereotypes that have been placed on us. I don’t want to be the poor, white trash from Vegas. The girl with a druggie for a mother.
He doesn’t want to be an asshole like his father was. Is.
Wait.
He’s talking about his father in the present tense. As if he were still alive. Maybe it was a slip of the tongue. Maybe he hasn’t fully dealt with his parent’s death.
That makes more sense than lying about them being dead if they’re still alive.
Or it could be a metaphor. His parents are dead to him, so that’s what he tells people. If that’s the case, what about Daphne? She barely wants to talk about her parents. She refuses to talk about their death. Her words have always felt re
hearsed, scripted. She repeats a few of the same phrases over and over again.
“Harley,” he says, giving my shoulders a light squeeze. “Your turn.”
I’m overthinking this. I know I am. I need to refocus. What truth do I want to share with him? Which one will set me free but keep me safe at the same time?
“My mother is the reason I do what I do. She never got the help she needed when I was growing up. I can’t count the number of times I came home from school and found her passed out on the couch, stoned, or worse. She was my example in life, the only one I had. I had a choice. I could either end up like her or I could make something of myself. I chose to be better, to do better, and to help people because I couldn’t help her. That’s my truth.”
It still feels like I’m lying to him. I’m only giving him half the story because I can’t bring myself to share the rest of the dark tale. It’s still a half-truth, but it’s more than I’ve given him in the last few weeks since we started sharing truths with each other.
It’s a game. I know it. There is no winner or loser, at least not yet. Maybe it’s the person who breaks first, the one who lays it all on the table that loses. I can’t let that be me. For Phoenix’s sake.
“You’ve done an amazing job of turning a bad situation into a good one. You’ve raised an amazing son, and you’re a fantastic role model for him. I’m sorry you had to endure so much growing up, but I think it made you stronger, more resilient than most people. And the fact you’re helping people the way you are, after experiencing it firsthand, it’s beyond commendable.”
My heart swells in my chest at his praise. I’ve waited my entire life to hear words like his. For someone to recognize that I’ve worked hard to get to where I am. That I’ve overcome more obstacles than a lot of people ever have to encounter.
I could have heard the words sooner, from someone else, if I had ever shared my story with them. I’m glad I didn’t. They mean more coming from Alex. It could be because we’re from two different worlds or because I have feelings for him. Whatever the reason, I’m glad he was the first to hear my truth.
Half Truths: An Opposites Attract Romance Page 14
