Go It Alone (A Go Novel Book 2)

by Scarlett Finn

  If they did, what could she do? Avoid her family home out of respect for what she’d done to Rupert, or push to spend more time there in the hopes they would eventually accept her choice?

  Going back to Rupert would mean marriage and kids. The life she’d shunned the first time it was offered to her was what Rupert expected of their future. She couldn’t call foul when his wishes had been made so explicit to her in the past.

  “You know what I keep coming back to?” she asked.

  “What?”

  She blinked her eyes to his. “None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t lied to me.”

  Clyde nodded. “It wasn’t a little lie.”

  “No,” she said, picking at the engraved metal on her bracelet with a fingernail. “It wasn’t a little lie. And none of this is Rupert’s fault. I’m not in love with him. I don’t want the life I’ll have with him… But, I was willing to give up everything to do what I thought was right for Ryske. I made decisions, made deals, did things I’d never have done before… And, I made those decisions fully committed to seeing them through.”

  Blaming Ryske was easy, but Harlow had no way to know how things would’ve played out if he hadn’t lied. The plan had been for her to go back to Rupert. If she’d done that and either she or Ryske had changed their minds later, Rupert would’ve been hurt through no fault of his own.

  “Now Ryske’s come back from the ether and is asking you to go back on your word.”

  Whoever’s fault it was, the only blameless person was Rupert. “Exactly,” she said. “Last night, I… I lied to Rupert. I told him a straight-up lie, and it didn’t feel good. I’ve known him for a decade and we used to be so close… We were great friends at the start of our relationship. It was difficult for him to balance us and his relationship with my dad. The pressure he was under only got worse as he took on more responsibility. I mean, he’s basically being groomed to take over everything. I don’t want it. Lena sure doesn’t.”

  “So, being with Rupert would make sense and would be the right thing for your family… And, if you’re going to have children with anyone, he’d provide a safer life for them, and they could take over the firm if they’re inclined to.”

  “Yes,” she said.

  It was all logical. Rupert did make the most sense and she had made a deal with him. He’d never treat her badly or hurt her. He’d never lie to her like Ryske had and she would never be put in jeopardy with him.

  On the flipside, she would never feel like she fit with him. Would never feel the carnal thrill of being near him or be overwhelmed by his proximity. In her heart and libido, there was no comparison between the men. But, it was her heart that had got her to this point and her life was a damn mess.

  With Ryske she could be open and tell him everything, any detail, he’d never judge her. He would support her through almost everything. Everything, except her choice to be with Rupert.

  Rupert wouldn’t understand half the things she’d done. Being with him would mean concealing a part of herself. It would mean keeping secrets in order to protect him… just like Ryske had done to her.

  “You don’t love Rupert,” Clyde said, “do you?”

  The acknowledgement of her conflict was comforting, but it didn’t help her resolve it. “I do love him,” she said, unsure if she was trying to convince Clyde or herself. “It’s just not… it’s not the same kind of powerful, overwhelming love…”

  “You said you’ve known Rupert for a decade,” Clyde said. “Ryske is new… maybe you’ll feel that way about him in ten years.”

  “Maybe,” she muttered.

  It could go that way, but she doubted it. Maybe they wouldn’t make ten years or maybe they’d hate each other after that amount of time. But she couldn’t imagine ever feeling for Ryske the way she did for Rupert.

  For one thing, she hadn’t experienced the same kind of powerful, overwhelming love for Rupert in their early days together. Ryske was the kind of man who a woman could lose herself in and he’d always keep her head above water even if she felt like she could go under.

  Rupert was more stable. He was a pay the bills and take camping trips with the family type of guy. As a couple, they’d raise a family. In their life together, the most terrifying issue they’d have to deal with would be the phone bill one of their teenagers racked up.

  Harlow’s drive to have kids hadn’t reared its head. Maybe it never would. She loved kids, but birthing them had never been one of her life goals. She’d always assumed that if it was going to happen, it would happen, and whatever the setup, she’d make it work.

  In her time with family services, she’d learned that children needed love and security. If they had both of those things, most would be just fine. Parents with money and stability could be abusers or raise criminals just the same as parents without money and a busier lifestyle.

  One thing she didn’t doubt was Ryske’s ability to love their children… if they had them… if he was around to love them. But, Rupert would be an excellent provider and a stable influence on youngsters. He’d bestow a strong moral compass on his children while Ryske’s kids would be charming swindlers… just like their father.

  The future was uncertain. Predicting it was going to be impossible, just as she’d never have predicted meeting Ryske, much less losing him and then getting him back again.

  Those kinds of things wouldn’t happen with Rupert. He was the epitome of predictable, always where he was supposed to be. Always there when she needed him.

  Her heart knew who it wanted to dedicate itself to, but she’d made a deal. That was what it boiled down to. Was Harlow a woman of her word… or wasn’t she?

  28

  Sleeping at Clyde’s had been fitful at first. Once she got over her agitation and drifted off, Harlow had been out for the rest of the night. Obviously, she’d needed her sleep. By the time she woke up, it was almost noon. Though she couldn’t say that she felt particularly rested. Too many thoughts danced in her subconscious to really give her a break. It sounded insane, but Harlow felt the weight of them in there, throbbing and swelling, taking up space.

  Buckling down to her purpose, Harlow took a shower, and put on the previous night’s clothes. The notion of food made her nauseous though her morning coffee gave her a boost. Something about sitting in silence, breathing in the steam, was refreshing. The peace was welcome. Clyde was at work, so it was just her… and her coffee. The peace couldn’t last, there was too much to be getting on with. So, she finished fast and left the apartment.

  Checking in with Costello was first on her to-do list. The intention was to make it a flying visit to let her friend know that she was still alive. But he’d noticed her high stress level and had talked her into a session. Sweating with him gave her the excuse to pound out some of her frustration. After, she changed into his gym-branded apparel.

  Sportswear felt more appropriate than a cocktail dress for going around the grocery store, which was her next destination. The supplies were for the Sotos. Stocking the kitchen of the family who were enduring so much seemed like the least she could do. Dropping the groceries off gave Harlow the chance to talk to Camila about Felipe. In that conversation, she discovered that the youngster was going to be released that afternoon, which was something of a relief.

  Camila still hadn’t given birth and spoke of how desperate she was to get the child out of her. Labor had to be a terrifying prospect, but Harlow’s overriding thought during the discussion was how much safer the child was inside its mother than it could be when it came out into the dangerous world.

  She considered taking a second cup of coffee from Camila, which was a sure sign of procrastination. Harlow forced herself to refuse. Sitting in the Sotos kitchen was safe, but she couldn’t put off going to Floyd’s forever. Time was trickling away. It was evening already. The bar would be open. There would be people drinking and getting rowdy. It was time to bite the bullet.

  The bar being open offered her a reprieve; at least she didn�
�t have to knock to be granted entry. It wasn’t busy, and while every face there was familiar, no one quizzed her about where she’d been or what was going on.

  Hugs and kisses greeted her, and she loitered at a couple of tables to shoot the breeze. But, Harlow wasn’t there to socialize and the last thing she wanted was to be blindsided by a member of the crew.

  So, deciding to rip the Band-Aid off, she went to the back, getting the nod from Lowan who probably knew more about what was going on than anyone else present.

  Heading through the den, the jovial exchange of the guys in the apartment above faded up as she ascended the spiral stairs. Slowing to get her bearings, Harlow was putting off the inevitable more than attempting to eavesdrop, though that was a side-effect of her delay.

  “Six, at a push,” Maze said.

  Three guys laughed. Noon objected. “Nah, at least an eight.”

  “My ass,” Dover said. “A five.”

  “You’re a weird fucker,” Noon said.

  “What the fuck does that mean?” Dover said to the laughter of the others.

  “He’s right,” Ryske said. “You’ve got some weird standards.”

  “Coming from the guy who has no standard at all,” Dover said. “I’ll take it.”

  “Uh, have you seen my girl?” Ryske said. “She’s a fucking eleven.”

  Harlow stopped on the spiral stairs about three quarters of the way up, just out of view. Closing her eyes, she let herself just be a part of the moment, a part of the happiness.

  “Nightingale is,” Maze said. “Can’t deny that.” Murmurs of agreement went around the room. “Probably why she’s guaranteed to be dumping his ass soon as she figures out she’s worth ten of this jerkoff.”

  More jeering.

  “I don’t get in if you fuckers don’t show,” Noon said. “I said three friends and she guaranteed we’d all get laid.”

  “I don’t need you making deals to get me laid,” Dover said.

  “Me either,” Maze said and then laughed. “Won’t stop me from going though… You said models, right?”

  “Models? Yeah,” Noon said. “Plenty to go around she said.”

  “You guys can divide up my share of the spoils,” Ryske said only to be greeted by a mixed response of groans and objections.

  “It’s a party,” Noon said. “You have to come. I said three… she needs guys.”

  “I might have come if you’d said four,” Ryske said. “But, I gotta say, I’m not sorry we’ll have this place to ourselves for the night. Rules on women stand. You go to their places.”

  Dover laughed. “Says the guy who wants the apartment to himself so he can have a woman stay over.”

  “Difference is, this is my woman’s place too,” Ryske said.

  Harlow didn’t have anywhere to call home. It seemed like she’d been a nomad forever. From Rupert’s place, to her parents, into the city, here, Clyde’s, she hadn’t set roots, and just bounced around without anywhere to call her own.

  “Think Nightingale would want to come?” Noon asked.

  “Yeah, it’s basically a sex party,” Maze said. “An orgy is a far cry from where I found you guys in her parents’ fancy country club.”

  “It’s your parents’ fancy country club too,” Ryske said. “And you didn’t see what we were doing before you got there.”

  Inhaling to bolster her courage, Harlow pulled on the bannister to finish her ascension to the top. “A hand job under the table gets low points at a sex party,” she said, garnering the attention of them all.

  Dover was in the kitchen, propped against the counter, coffee in a curved hand. Noon was at the dining table, though she couldn’t see what he was doing. Maze and Ryske were in the living room beyond.

  The jovial mood evaporated. Tension began to crackle.

  Ryske attempted to break it. “We’ll go for as many points as you want, Trink,” he said, like it wasn’t odd that she’d just intruded in their space. “You know me, anything that doesn’t involve you with another guy is a go from me.”

  The trio she hadn’t conversed with were more solemn than their buddy. “Nightingale,” Dover said, as though Ryske hadn’t spoken at all. “You did good here. You looked after the place for us and did it well… I was impressed.”

  Broadening her smile, she went over to take his coffee. “I’m an impressive woman,” she said and took a sip.

  Pointing to her cheek, she let him know it was okay for him to kiss her as he’d always done in the past. Dover bowed to kiss her as she returned his coffee.

  Leaving the kitchen, she noticed Noon had a bunch of objects laid out on newspaper on the dining table. They looked like car parts, but she knew nothing about that kind of thing.

  Going over to kiss Noon’s cheek, she then dipped to kiss Maze too. His kiss was closer to her mouth and more mutual. Before she could leave his side, Maze took his hand from the laptop on his knees and curled his fingers around hers to give her a squeeze.

  Ryske was on the couch. She didn’t go near him, though she did offer a smile. He nodded at her sweater. “You spent the night at the gym?”

  She hadn’t been thinking that wearing Costello’s brand would give that impression. “No,” she said. “Costello’s girlfriend would blow something if I spent another night with her man.”

  No laughter. Their lack of humor was probably related to their uncertainty about the state of her relationships with the various men in her life. Harlow couldn’t say she was all that clear herself.

  “Where did you sleep?” Maze asked.

  In some ways, being with Ryske would be like being with four men. She wouldn’t have only one checking up on her. They’d all be vigilant and that could work for or against her.

  That truth only gave her another pro for the Rupert column.

  “Guys, I don’t want this to be weird,” she said, twisting to make sure they were all included. “I know you probably think there’s a lot to talk about. But, the truth is, there’s nothing to say.”

  “Nothing?” Maze asked. “You don’t want to know where we’ve been or why we made the choices we did?”

  “Ryske told me why,” she said, letting her hand drift out of Maze’s. “I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about it and I’ve decided that talking is pointless. What’s been done has been done. There’s no going back.”

  Harlow couldn’t assert that she wouldn’t go back even if she could, because she probably would. Granted, if Ryske hadn’t lied the plan had been for her to go back to Rupert. But, if Ryske had been recuperating after the shooting, in the hospital or out, she’d have visited him, spent time with him. No one could know what decisions they might have made during that time.

  “No going back,” Noon said, turning away from his car parts. All of the men’s expressions grew stern with concern. “What does that mean?”

  Licking her lips, she prepared herself to say the words. “I’m here to pack the rest of my stuff,” she said. “I’m leaving.”

  All of the men were on their feet and crowding around her before she could finish her sigh. Their disapproving objections overlapped. Voices were raised making it difficult for her to pick one from the other.

  Ryske’s whistle silenced the room.

  “Guys, give us the space,” Ryske said and the other three began to withdraw.

  “No,” she said, managing to swerve out from between their bodies. “You don’t have to do that.”

  Heading into the closet, she retrieved her empty suitcase before Ryske came in and slammed the door. “Where are we going?”

  Crouched on the floor, unzipping her case, she paused when he went to a trunk in the corner to pull out another sports bag. “What are you doing?”

  “Guess it doesn’t matter,” he said, taking the bag to his dresser to begin filling it with clothes. “I know you don’t like the suits, but they can be useful.”

  Leaning to the side, he pulled a packed suit bag from the end of one of the racks and tossed it onto the couch.
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br />   “Ryske,” she said, straightening her legs to stand at full height. “You’re not coming with me.”

  Slamming the drawer, he spun to face her. Rage tensed his body when he threw the bag to the floor. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere. Any time you turn around, I’ll be there.”

  Shaking her head, she stepped over the suitcase to move a few feet closer to him. “Life isn’t as simple as that,” she said, reminding herself that she wasn’t allowed to cry. His rage was a cover for his hurt. Harlow knew how deep it cut him because she felt it too. “Life isn’t as simple as saying I love you… We might not have used the words, but we both acknowledged feeling that way in this room before… We acknowledged our emotions when we faced why we hadn’t had sex, when we agreed I should go back to Rupert.”

  “Things have changed since then,” he said, thrusting a certain finger toward the floor. “It’s different now.”

  “Yes,” she said, trying to keep herself calm even when he came closer. “Things are different, but not in our favor.”

  Grabbing her throat, he thrust her head back. “You love me.”

  “Yes,” she said. A telltale streak of moist heat on her cheekbone betrayed that she’d lost the battle to conceal her grief. “I do love you, Ryske.”

  29

  Forcing his mouth over hers, Ryske kissed her hard, giving her no option of retreat. Turning them around, he rushed her back against the dressers, pinning her under his mercy.

  Wrong as it was, Harlow wanted to kiss him. That was why she fought his tongue so hard. Goading and tasting his mouth, she flattened both palms on the wood pressing into her back, absorbing the man she’d so often craved.

  But when Ryske plunged his hand down the front of her sweatpants, Harlow had to push him away. “It’s not as simple as that,” she whispered, her fingers fumbling their way up to his stubble. “It’s not as simple as words and sex, baby.”