by Gina Azzi
She sighs, kicking her feet up on the dashboard and leaning back. “My head is imploding. My phone has been blowing up like crazy. My mom is furious with me for ending things with Bryce. Jack—”
“Your stepbrother?”
“Yeah, my brother. He’s making a ton of memes of Bryce and sending them to me, just to make me laugh, you know?”
“Did your brother like Bryce?”
“Couldn’t stand him.”
Her words are a salve to the tightness in my chest. Even though I never met Jack, I decide he’s all right.
“I’m just trying to figure it all out,” Harlow continues, facing me. “I know I’m lucky I have a safe place to land. Zoe pretty much moved me into her home and Eli cancelled my reservation at the W. Plus, I love getting to spend all this time with Maddie. It’s just…”
“What?” I meet her gaze, curious.
“I don’t know where to go from here. I really, truly believed I was building the life I wanted.”
“And now you don’t?”
“And now that it’s crumbled, I feel like if it was really the life I wanted, I’d be devastated. Don’t get me wrong, I’m hurt. I feel stupid and embarrassed. My ego is bruised and my heart is broken. But, if I was creating the life I truly craved, I shouldn’t feel even a little bit relieved, right?” She stares at me, her expression so trusting that my heart rate ticks up and my mouth grows dry.
“No, babe.” I clear my throat. “Relief means something about it, your life, your relationship, was causing you stress.”
“Yeah.”
I want to ask her if things weren’t as perfect as they seemed with Golden Boy.
Before I can utter the question, she turns her intelligent gaze on me. “Why didn’t you tell me about your dad?”
I run my hand down the length of my face. “Seemed like a strange thing to call and tell you when we weren’t even talking.”
“That was stupid.”
“Not calling you?”
She points and flexes her toes on the dashboard. “No, our not talking. Even when we were hooking up, we were friends. I ruined that when I asked—”
“It’s cool. We were both dumb about it,” I cut her off, not wanting to recall her crestfallen expression when I ended things.
“You were dumber than me,” she shoots back.
I swat at her and she giggles again.
“How’s he doing?” she asks and I’m relieved that I don’t detect pity in her tone.
“Not well,” I admit. My throat constricts and I grip the steering wheel tighter. “About three months ago, I moved him into a full-time care facility. He needs around-the-clock care and each week, it’s like there’s less and less of the man I love.”
Harlow exhales out a shaky breath but I can’t look at her. If I do, she’ll see how much Pop’s diagnosis is killing me.
“Is that why you stopped fighting?” she whispers.
I freeze, her question knocking the air from my lungs.
“You’re going all in, huh?” I shift my weight, sliding my palm over the top of the steering wheel.
She doesn’t apologize or change the subject, something I’ve always admired about her. She doesn’t shy away from the uncomfortable.
“No, Pop’s not why I stopped fighting. I got knocked out in the last round of my last fight. The concussion was pretty brutal.”
“I saw the fight.”
Humiliation blazes through me that Harlow watched me lose. The end of the fight was pitiful and the one time I watched the rerun, I was mortified that I went down the way I did.
“Didn’t think to reach out?” I clear my throat but out of the corner of my eye, I see her body stiffen. Guess she caught the accusation lacing my words.
She grimaces, her expression streaked with apology. “I didn’t know what to say.”
“I know. It was fucking awful.”
“But now you’re running the gym.”
I shrug, pulling into the parking lot of the diner. I cut the engine and drop my head back against the headrest. Seeing Harlow brightened my mood after a shit day, but right now, recounting my failures and admitting how much of my life is out of my control is causing my bitterness to swell. “Gym’s on its last leg. I got fighters jumping ship left and right. If I’m lucky, I’ll keep it going ’til the end of the year. But I need to figure something else out. My construction jobs barely keep my lights on. I got nothing left to channel into the gym.”
Harlow pulls her feet down and sits up straighter, her expression stricken. “Connor.”
“Don’t feel bad. I spent too many months pissed at the whole fucking world. Instead of counting my blessings, I wasted time agonizing over what I lost.”
Her hand settles on my forearm. Her touch soothes as much as it aches. “If you want to visit your pop now, we don’t have to—”
“He’s having a bad day,” I interject, looking out the window and biting the corner of my mouth to keep my emotions under control. “He had a really rough time today. The nurses think it’s better if I … visit tomorrow.”
“I’m sorry, Connor.”
I shake my head, casting off her concern. “You know, the night I lost the fight, he sat me down, passed me a glass of Johnnie Walker and told me to find something new. Something that consumes me, the way fighting did. Does. He told me to write a new chapter and discover something that gives me purpose, that lights me up. Something that sets my soul on fire.”
Harlow tilts her head, waiting for me to continue.
“For the longest time, I thought he was feeding me B.S. Something to cheer me up, like when people say it’s good luck if a bird shits on you.”
Harlow snorts.
“But today…”
“What?”
“Today, at the site, I was hauling toilet bowls for a new build and I realized that I don’t want this to be my life. Construction, manual labor. I want something more. Something that consumes me and sets my soul on fire.”
“And…”
“I miss training. I love my gym. I’m not ready to let it go. But I don’t know how to hold onto it and work construction and spend time with Pop the way I want to.” I chew the corner of my mouth, turning toward Harlow. It’s the most forthcoming I’ve ever been with her, the realest glimpse into my life I’ve ever offered. Part of me doesn’t want to meet her gaze, but the other part…
I look up.
When my gaze connects with hers, I bite down harder. Because she’s not looking at me with pity. She’s staring at me with her whole heart bleeding from her eyes and compassion etched into the angles of her face. The ways she gives herself so damn freely causes the emotions I keep tamped down to swell. My chest feels funny, my heart beating too fast.
“You’re a fighter, Connor. You always have been,” she murmurs. “This is just the toughest challenge you’ve ever faced.” Her hold tightens on my arm and I lean closer to her, like a moth to a flame.
“I’m tired, Low,” I whisper, admitting the truth when I would much rather swallow it down.
Her expression softens. “You’re going to figure it all out, Connor.”
“How do you know that?”
Her eyes are hypnotizing, her touch so damn soothing.
“Because you’re a warrior. You may have lost one battle, but you’re not going to lose the whole war.”
Her response is so…her. I breathe out a chuckle. The pull between us is undeniable and the space flickers with energy and heat.
“I missed you, Connor,” she says, patting my arm once before letting go.
I nod, tipping my head toward the diner. “Pancakes?”
“Pancakes,” she agrees, sliding from the passenger seat.
5
Harlow
“Blueberry or banana pancakes?” Connor’s eyes gleam with playfulness. After the serious moment we shared in his truck, I can tell he’s desperate to change the direction of our conversation to something lighter. But this side of him, joking and playful, is still dangerous. I coul
d fall for him again if I’m not careful.
“Banana,” I answer.
“Really?” he draws out the word, leaning back in the booth. “Okay, what about —”
“It’s my turn,” I cut him off, resting my elbows on the table. “Coke or Pepsi.”
His face twists in disgust, as if I’ve offended him. “Dr. Pepper.”
“What?” I smack my palms on the table. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I can’t believe you’re not. Coke or Pepsi? That’s the most generic question you could ask.”
Grinning, I stick my tongue out at Connor.
“Book or movie?”
“Book.” I point at him accusingly. “You’re going to say movie, aren’t you?”
He nods, a smirk rippling over his mouth. He grabs his coffee mug and shakes his head at me. “So far, Reid, we’ve got nothing in common.”
“Haven’t you ever heard that opposites attract?” I quirk an eyebrow.
Connor actually laughs. That surly, serious, always silent behemoth of a man who I’ve rarely gotten a smile out of outside of the bedroom laughs. In public.
He takes a sip of his coffee. “Why are you staring at me like that?”
I wave a hand at him. “Just processing this monumental moment.”
“That we have nothing in common?”
“No, that you laughed. In public. Where people can see you.”
He scowls. “I laugh.”
“What? You are the most serious man I’ve ever met. Sure, you’re not growly and grumbly like Eli, but you’ve always been so…severe. I like this version of you.”
His eyes flash, a ripple of amusement. “I aim to please.” He tips his head toward me before his chocolate eyes meet mine. “But I do laugh more when I’m with you, Low.”
Unable to stop the goofy smile from splitting my face, I cross my elbows and lean forward on the table. “Keep talking.”
Connor tosses a wadded paper straw wrapper at my face and we both chuckle.
“What’s Eli got in store for you?” he asks, taking another sip.
“Well,” I draw out the word, shifting back in the booth. “He’s asked me to rejoin his team as his manager. So, a bit like being his P.A. but on steroids. Since his life is split between here and L.A. and his career is moving in new directions with directing, it will mean more balls to juggle.”
“That awesome, Low.”
I fiddle with the handle of my mug. “Yeah, it is.”
“Hey? Where’s the sassy girl I know?”
“Ahh, it’s just…it’s a lot.”
“Yeah, but you’re up for it. Right?”
I nod, chewing my lower lip.
“What?” Connor prods. “When you were Eli’s P.A., you were a million percent on top of everything. You knew who was who for everything, what was happening on set, and even when Eli last took a freaking vitamin.”
I chuckle.
“You got this. Why are you questioning it?” he asks.
Thanking the waitress as she drops off several plates of stacked pancakes, I pick up my fork. “I’m just, I don’t know, nervous. It’s been awhile since I’ve been so…on.”
“What? Chaperoning wannabe actors at high altitudes wasn’t as difficult as babysitting Eli?”
I throw a paper straw wrapper back. “It’s just been awhile since I’ve been in a position that was so… real. You know?”
“Is this what you want?”
“Absolutely,” I answer immediately. “This move with Eli is what I need to get back on track.”
“On track?”
I scrunch up my nose, debating how much to share with Connor. I haven’t told many, not counting Eli a very long time ago, about my goal to work in PR. I knew if I shared my intentions, my stepdad would have me placed with an agency, working a position I don’t necessarily have the experience for. My friends in L.A. don’t understand me at all. In a city where connections are life and networking is more natural than breathing, no one understands why I don’t lean on Kent to hook me up.
But I’ve always wanted to prove to myself that I could achieve the life I want, the career I was working toward until I quit Eli’s team, on my own.
“I really want to work in public relations.”
Connor’s eyebrows rise. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s what I’ve always imagined doing. One of the reasons I loved being Eli’s P.A. is because I was always on. Twenty-four-seven, I was reachable, in the know, putting out fires in this crazy vortex of disasters and to-do lists. It was a wild ride and I thrived in the chaos. Plus, I learned so much working for him, especially because he encouraged me to network and connect with other people in the industry. To be behind someone’s image, to be pushing their brand out into the world and shaping it, growing it, doing damage control when necessary...” I shake my head, leaning back in the booth. “It’s the career I’ve always wanted.”
“Wow,” Connor says, peering at me closely. A strange expression ripples across his features but in the next instant, his face is smooth. “I had no idea, Low.”
“I don’t really tell people.”
“Why not?”
“Because my stepdad could get me a job in two seconds and I really, I just —”
“Want to prove you can do it on your own. On your merit, not your stepdad’s last name.” Connor finishes my thought.
“Exactly.”
“Do you, Low. You got this gig with Eli. You’re going to rock it, and then you’re going to grow and expand just like the brands you want to build.”
“I hope so.” My chest warms at how easily he understands, accepts my desire to work for the career I want from the ground up. His perspective is refreshing after having to always rationalize my motives to my friends in L.A.
I smile at him from behind my water glass. His support means more than he knows. This conversation is the most real we’ve ever been with each other. In the past, we always had fun together but rarely delved into our feelings, our dreams. Sharing my goals with him now is equal parts thrilling and liberating.
“You’ll be great. You always are.” He pours a heaping puddle of syrup next to his pancakes.
His words strike me harder than he probably intended. It’s the weight of them, the severity with which they hang in the air. It’s like he really believes that I’ll be an asset to Eli’s career. That he believes in me.
His words echo in my eardrums as something shifts in my mind. Thoughts collide, memories snap into focus. My past and present overlap and I realize two important facts.
First, Connor cares about me for me. My happiness, my ambitions, the pieces that comprise my life matter to him because I matter to him.
Second, Bryce never did. With Bryce, the events in my life circled back to him. My opportunities were considered in light of his career.
The realization sours my stomach and my fork clatters to the table.
“You okay?” Connor asks, his brow furrowing.
“Yeah,” I say, grappling with my thoughts.
Connor’s eyes darken in concern as he pauses, his fork hovering between his plate and his mouth, his eyes locked on mine.
My heart stutters and I smile at him. A genuine Harlow smile. “This is nice.” I gesture between us. “With the exception of Zoe and Eli, I forgot what it’s like to be honest with someone. To let my guard down, even a little.”
“Not ever Bryce?” Connor asks, his tone gruff.
I shrug, not wanting to talk about Bryce. Especially not now. “What about you? Any serious relationships?”
Connor snorts, his fork clattering to his plate. “You really went there?”
“Hell yeah. I’m…curious.”
His expression sobers. He runs a hand over his face. “No one serious. I’m not going to pretend I’ve been a saint the past few years, but no one ever came close to you, Low. What we had was… good. Real.”
My heart explodes at his words, my insides turning to goo. I feel like seventeen-year-old Harlow
and I fight the urge to show how happy his words make me by beaming sunshine at him.
But his next words halt my runaway feelings. “Besides, I don’t have time to date even if I wanted to.”
“What do you mean?” I ask, disappointment already sinking in my stomach. Jesus, I need to steer the conversation in a different direction. I just got out of a life-altering relationship. The future I envisioned for myself ten days ago looks nothing like the reality I’m currently living.
The last thing I need right now it to try for real with a guy who already shot me down once.
So why does Connor’s brush-off scrape at the scabs of old wounds?
Why is the back of my throat stinging and my stomach knotted too tight to properly inhale?
Connor sighs, shadows shifting in the depths of his eyes. I wish I could read his thoughts; I wish I could understand him as easily as he seems to understand me.
“At the end of the day, I don’t have a lot more to give,” he admits. “Most days, I’m up before dawn. If I’m not early on a site, I train with the guys at my gym before heading to my construction job. My days are grueling. Manual labor, the heat, the monotony of it all. I’m drained before I even get to Pop’s. If he’s having a good day and in good spirits, I like to have dinner with him and hang out until visiting hours are over. By the time I get home at night, I’m ready to conk out. Come on, what woman would want to be with me? And if there was, would she really want to stick around? Be an afterthought to everything else I’m juggling?” His words clang between us, charging the air with the discomfort of their truths. An edge of bitterness lines his face and he rakes his napkin across his mouth.
My pulse quickens, my stomach twisting at the acidity in his tone. Doesn’t he realize how amazing he is? Doesn’t he see even a fraction of what I see when I look at him? “Connor, I’m sure —”
“Nah. This is going to be it for me. For a while at least. I’m so far into the grind, I can’t climb out. It’s impossible. My bills, Pop’s medical bills, the gym bills keep stacking up. Then, there’s Pop’s care…” He trails off, blowing out a deep breath.
“His care?”
Connor runs a hand over his face, looking miserable. “The facility Pop is in is really great. It’s the best managed-care place in the area. But around-the-clock care comes with a hefty price tag. Especially when your insurance is shit. I don’t care about the money. I’d cut my right arm off to help Pop. But fuck, Low, the monthly payments are astronomical. If things were going better at the gym…” He trails off again. “I don’t know how to keep things going and keep him there long-term.” His voice tightens and grief slashes across his face.
