When Rivals Lose

by Beck, J. L.

  They follow me into the living room, where we all sit down on the couch.

  “You will not be returning to Bayshore, and you will not see those Bishop boys again,” my father’s voice is eerily calm. “You will stay here, you will be a part of this family, and you will marry Matt next week.”

  For what seems like minutes, we all sit there in silence, then I start laughing, really laughing.

  I throw my head back and hug myself, I laugh so hard my belly hurts. It takes a minute for me to compose myself enough to answer my parents, who are just sitting on the couch stoically not getting the joke.

  “And why would I do any of that? I’m an adult, you can’t boss me around. Or force me to marry someone of your choosing.”

  “Of course, it is your choice to make, Harlow, but there will be consequences to your actions. If you refuse to marry Matt, something might happen to Sullivan… or maybe Banks this time.” I let my father’s threat hang in the air for a moment before I respond.

  “You can’t do that! You can’t frame them, again, you already destroyed his life once.”

  “There are other, more permanent ways to take care of someone…”

  “Very well, Xander,” my mom’s voice suddenly fills my head, and I hold on to that memory, knowing in an instant that it’s an important one. “Thank you again for helping us with the Bishop situation.”

  “No problem at all, framing people is my second favorite work,” the man named Xander said.

  “Oh, what’s your favorite?” My dad chimed in and I could already tell the answer isn't one I want to hear.

  “Killing people…” My heart stops in my chest, leaving an ache behind, that I’ve never felt before. My skull is vibrating with pain from the force of the memory, but I don’t care. All I can think of is how my father is threatening to kill one of the men I love.

  The memory slips away, but I know there is more to it. I search my brain, willing myself to find that hidden compartment where the information I need is stored.

  Xander… who is Xander?

  Xander Rossi… it finally clicks in my head. Xander Rossi, the head of the local mob.

  My parents are working with the mob. The realization leaves me stunned. This isn’t someone that I can just remove from the situation. This is the mob, and with them in my father’s pocket, it’s either do as I’m told or face the consequences.

  “Harlow, dear, we are not the bad guys here,” my mom explains. “We are trying to do what’s best for you. You have to trust us on this. Matt is going to be the perfect husband for you. He’ll take care of you and make you happy.”

  “You don’t want what’s best for me, you want what’s best for you, let’s at least admit it.” I get up, unable to sit here with them another second. “I guess it doesn’t matter what I want, you win. I’ll marry Matt.”

  Ignoring the sadness and defeat in my voice, my mom smiles.

  “Perfect, I’ll start planning right now. You’ve made the right choice, sweetie.”

  “And I’ll call Matt to deliver the good news,” my father speaks smugly, as I turn away from them and head toward my bedroom. I won’t give them the satisfaction of seeing me cry. I hold back my tears until I close the door behind me, locking me inside the room with nothing but my thoughts. I’m going to marry Matt, a man I don’t love, so the people I do love can stay safe.

  * * *

  All night I find it impossible to sleep, the tears flowing freely down my face. It’s hours before I’m so exhausted that I finally fall asleep, and don’t even wake up later that morning when someone enters my room and sits down on my bed. Only when they touch my shoulder, shaking me gently, do I peel my eyes open.

  “Hey, you,” Matt’s face greets me, his voice is low, sugary sweet, and I think I might be dreaming. I blink, and then I blink again. Then like a stack of books falling over, everything comes crashing down on me. Sitting upright fast enough to give myself a head rush, I clutch the heavy blanket to my chest and scoot back against the headboard.

  “What the hell are you doing here? Who let you in?” My voice rises with each question, still brimming with sleep.

  He smiles, showing off his perfectly white teeth, “Your parents let me in, of course, and I’m here to see how my future wife is doing?”

  My heart sinks into my stomach, and I feel a little like puking. All I want to do is pull the blanket over my head and go back to sleep… a long, long sleep where I wake up and all of this is nothing more than a dream.

  “You look thrilled to see me,” Matt points out, his face crumbling like a broken piece of rock. “I’m guessing it wasn’t your idea to get married, after all.”

  “It doesn’t matter, I agreed to get married, so we’re doing it.”

  “Sounds like the start of an epic love story.” The words come out more like a joke, but they hit their mark. As if I hadn’t cried enough already, one single tear slips from my eye, rolling down my cheek, and splattering on the white sheet I’m clutching to my chest.

  “Harlow, shit, sorry. Why are you crying?” Matt reaches for me, but I shake my head, halting his movements.

  “It’s nothing,” I murmur, wondering if I can trust Matt. Maybe I could tell him? No. I can’t. I quickly decide against it. His family and mine are business partners. He has to know what kind of people my father works with, the things he’s done. I look down at the blanket, fiddling with the fabric nervously.

  “I already told you once, but I’m going to tell you again… we can make this work. We can have a great life, and I’ll protect you, even from your family, if that’s what you need.”

  His response causes me to look up at him.

  “What do you mean, protect me from my family?”

  He shrugs, but even I know better than to assume that’s a shrug of ignorance. “Looks like you are under their thumb. If you marry me, you’ll have more freedom. I don’t care what you do as long as it’s nothing that makes me, or the business look bad. You want to go study… get a job? Marry me, and you can do whatever you want. I won’t stop you or try to lock you up like your parents do. With me, there is freedom.”

  Don’t do it, Harlow… don’t fall into the trap.

  Before I can stop myself, I’m asking the one question that’s been weighing on my mind since he started to talk.

  “What… what if I’m in love with someone else? Would you care about that?”

  Matt’s face doesn’t fill with shock or even anger, in fact, he looks, well, like he doesn’t care. “Honestly? As long as you pretend to be my wife publicly. I really don’t give a shit who you fuck on your time.” He’s being brutally honest, and even though I do appreciate his honesty, it still shocks me to the core.

  “I don’t know if I can do that. If we get married, then I’m all in. It wouldn’t be fair to you or to who I love to step out.”

  “We’ll make it work,” Matt says encouragingly, his hand coming to rest against my blanket-covered thigh. “You’ll see, it will eventually all work itself out. You still have my number, right?”

  “Yeah, in my phone.” It dawns on me then. My phone. My eyes dart around the room, scanning the space for my backpack. I was so distraught, and in shock last night, I didn’t even think about my phone. I suck in a tiny breath of relief when I spot my old backpack in the corner of the room. Matt’s eyes follow mine, but he doesn’t say anything about my reaction.

  “Call me if you need anything. I’ll come and rescue you from your parents if they get to be too much.” Matt gets off the bed and starts toward the door.

  “I… I... will… probably sooner, rather than later.”

  “Good. Bye, Princess. Talk soon,” he winks before turning and exiting the room, closing the door softly behind him.

  As soon as the lock clicks in, I throw the blanket off and get up. Grabbing my backpack, I dump its content out on my bed and rummage through it until I find my phone. It’s still on silent like I had it when I was in class, and that is the reason I didn’t hear the
92 missed phone calls and 38 unread text messages. Most of them are from Oliver, Banks, and Sullivan, but a handful are from Caroline as well.

  I scroll through the text messages.

  Oliver: Where the hell are you? We are worried. Please call me.

  Banks: Just text or call me, we just want to know you are okay. If you don’t want to be with us, it’s okay, we are just worried.

  Sullivan: Did your dad make you leave? Are you at your family's estate? Don’t worry, we are coming for you. We’ll find you and make this right.

  Caroline: Please call me, girl, everyone is so worried.

  I’m so angry. Angry at my parents, angry with myself for letting it come to this, and for some unexplained reason I’m even angry with the phone. I’m about to throw the damn thing across the room when it vibrates in my hand, and Oliver’s name lights up the screen.

  I answer the phone before thinking about what to say. Holding it to my ear, I wait for Oliver’s voice to fill it.

  “Harlow… Harlow, are you okay?” His voice hits me like a freight train. It’s harsh, painful, soft, and soothing all at once.

  “Yeah, it’s me.” My voice comes out shaky and so quiet I wonder if he even heard me at all.

  “God, do you know how worried we’ve been? Where are you? Are you safe? What the fuck happened?” Oliver bombards me with more questions before I can get a single answer in.

  “Don’t yell at her,” Banks says in the background. Then the sound of movement and rustling comes through the receiver.

  “Harlow?” Sullivan says, his voice calmer than his brother’s.

  “Yeah…” Is all I can get out in this moment, too many emotions swirling around inside of me, right beneath the surface, just waiting to come out.

  “Are you okay?” he asks the same question his brother asked.

  “Yes,” I lie. “I’m fine.”

  “What’s going on, baby?”

  “We can’t be together,” I say, trying to keep my voice as steady as I can. “We don’t belong together, and what we did was a mistake. It never should have happened.”

  “What are you talking about? We belong together,” Sullivan’s sweet voice caresses my ear.

  “No, we don’t, and we never did,” I force myself to say. The words leave a bitter taste on the tip of my tongue.

  “Is your dad making you say this? Is he hurting you?” Oliver interrupts, the phone now on speaker.

  “No, this is my decision. I came to my senses. I belong here with my family, and I’m going to marry Matt.”

  “You are lying,” Sullivan says, and it takes everything in me not to confess the truth, but then I thought about what my father said. He will hurt them… I need to keep them safe. Because however hard losing them will be, it would be unimaginably harder to know that they will get hurt or worse because of me. I couldn’t live with myself if… I can’t even finish that thought.

  “Harlow, is this really what you want?” Banks asks, and I can hear the pain he is feeling through the phone.

  “Yes, this is what I want. You need to leave me alone, forget about me. Move on… I already have.” I end the call at the end of the sentence. I can’t get another word out without crying. I power off my phone before they can call or message me again.

  My heart feels so incredibly heavy, like it’s about to drag me down, and never let me get up again. I fall back into my bed, curl into a ball and start crying, hoping that I’ll be strong enough to get through this. Hoping that maybe Matt was right that we can make this work, and that maybe, just maybe one day I can be happy again.

  13

  The days move slow, time passes at a snail's pace. The last week has felt like an eternity full of nothingness. My mom has been planning the wedding, acting like she is in heaven, while I’m in hell. She’s begging me to pick flowers, color schemes, dinner choices and try cakes. All I want to do is yell in her face… I don’t care about fucking cake!

  Since I’ve been back here, small memories of my childhood have resurfaced, none of them are particularly great, but neither are they alarming. It seems like on paper, I had an okay childhood. I remember actually loving my parents at some point. I remember the feeling of wanting to please them and the need for their affection. I still don’t remember even close to everything, so I don’t know when exactly my feelings toward my family changed, all I know is that those feelings of wanting them close are long gone, and I doubt I’ll ever get them back.

  “Harlow, which one do you like the best?” My mother interrupts my thoughts. I look at the three wedding dresses the seamstress hung up to show me. Shrugging my shoulders, I can’t even bring myself to feel a smidge of happiness. I don’t care what I’m wearing to get married. I’ll get married in a pair of jeans and a tank top for all I care.

  “Just pick one,” my mom urges impatience lacing her words, “or I’ll pick one for you.”

  “The one in the middle,” I say quickly, not wanting to give my mom the satisfaction of being able to pick. If this is all I have left to rebel against, then I’ll take it.

  “Okay, try it on,” she crosses her arms over her chest.

  Maria, the seamstress, helps me into the pearl white designer gown while I move my body on autopilot. She zips me up in the back and turns me gently to face the mirror. Staring at my reflection, I know I should feel something, anything… but I don’t. My gaze moves over the mirror. The dress fits like a glove, hugging my waist, and my thighs, and at my knees, it flails out. It’s beautiful, but it’s not me.

  “It’s a mermaid cut, and it’s the dress to have this season. Not everyone can pull it off though. You, however… well, let me just say you look gorgeous in it,” Maria gushes. I try and smile, but my lips refuse to pull up. I know it’s not her fault, that she’s simply trying to be nice, but I don’t care.

  “It’s perfect,” I say, my voice monotone.

  “Liven up, Harlow. You’re getting married, not being sent to the slaughterhouse.”

  I can’t withhold my eye roll a second longer.

  “Maybe not, but I would much rather be sent to the slaughterhouse at this point.”

  “Maria, please give my daughter and me a moment.” Like the good little slave, she is, Maria slips from the room without a word.

  My mother crosses the space that separates us, her menacing eyes finding mine in the mirror.

  “Maybe you don’t want to get married to Matt, but sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do. Life is full of choices, and sometimes those choices aren’t always the ones we want to have to make, that doesn’t mean you have to be so bitter about it. Do you know how many girls would kill to be in your position right now?”

  A bubble of laughter escapes my lips, “You mean there are others who want to be forced into a loveless marriage? Maybe you should go find one of them?”

  “Don’t act like a spoiled brat. You made the right choice by coming home and agreeing to marry Matt. Now make the best of it.”

  “Funny, you act like this is a choice that I got to make. This was never a choice. It was forced on me. It was do this or face the consequences of the men I love being injured, or worse, that’s not even close to it being a choice I get to make.”

  Her red-painted lips curl upward with disdain, and I can feel the anger vibrating off of her, slamming into me like waves against the shoreline. Her anger threatens to pull me under and into deep dark waters.

  “You did have a choice, you could have let your father take care of those Bishop boys, better yet, maybe if we get rid of them, you will finally forget they exist and come to your senses.”

  The mere sound of their name makes me shiver, and the inky dread of her confession coats my insides with darkness. “You wouldn’t…”

  My mother smiles at me, but it isn’t a smile of happiness. A dreadful chill runs down my spine at her coldness. “I’m just saying, maybe you should put more effort into looking happy. Smile a little. No one wants to see such a beautiful bride moping around, least of
all, one with the entire world at her feet.”

  She acts as if I’m being a hormonal teenager that’s throwing a tantrum because I can’t get my way when in reality that’s not the case at all. She’s the one delusional, and, I can’t stand to be in this room a moment longer with her. Without a care for the ten-thousand-dollar material, I strip out of the dress and put my own clothes back on.

  Shock colors my mother’s features, “Where do you think you are going? We are not done here. We have to find matching shoes and a veil still.”

  “I’m going to call Matt and ask him to take me out for a few hours. It’s been some time since we’ve seen each other.” I didn’t think I would ever end up taking him up on his offer, but I need to get out. I need to get away from here, and most importantly, her.

  “Oh, splendid,” my mother sounds genuinely happy and pleased with herself, “That will be great. I’ll just pick whatever I think will look best, don’t you worry. Come your wedding day, you’ll be the prettiest bride this side of the Mississippi.”

  Rolling my eyes once again, I escape the suffocating room and suck in a breath of fresh air or at least one that isn’t filled with bullshit. Pulling my phone out, I find Matt’s contact and cover my thumb over the green call key.

  Do I really want to do this? The thought of hanging out with him, of getting close to him. It leaves me feeling sick, it makes me feel like I’m betraying the brothers, and in a way, I guess I am. Still, it’s this or something far worse, and I’d rather hurt than ever let something happen to them. My love for them is endless.

  Pressing the green call key, I swallow down the pain and remind myself that I have to do this. I have to...for them, always for them.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Matt pulls up in a sleek sports car outside the dress shop. I open the passenger door and slip in the car before he has the chance to unbuckle. Sinking into the leather seat with a deep sigh, I look over to him. He’s staring at me with a mixture of surprise and curiosity.