by Piper Malone
The president of the recreation board introduces the family to anyone who “may not know them,” which garners a deep laugh from the audience, before each brother takes a turn at the podium.
Jude thanks the local businesses for their unending support in fundraising for the project. Evan recognizes the individuals who have done tours with him, learned about the park’s restoration, and kept tabs on the progress through social media. Ben thanks the president of the recreation board for embodying the true meaning of a public servant and for working with the family to make this dream a reality. Wyatt thanks the locals for caring for his brothers while he was at sea and chiming in on the two-way radio to give him updates. While each of them has separate people and places to acknowledge, there is one universal theme of gratitude for Nick.
“Without Nico,” Jude says, “literally none of what you are going to see today could have happened.”
“He has a vision and a skill one could only hope for,” Evan praises.
“Nico is the baby of our family, the runt, if you will”—Ben pauses to absorb the laughter—“but his drive and dedication to this project have been monstrous.”
“I have been in awe of my little brother for years. He has a courage and loyalty unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Wyatt offers to the crowd.
The entire time, through every word, Nick seems to struggle with the accolades. His restless hands fold and unfold, his fingers pressing against his eyes. Nick’s gaze never leaves the stage floor as he nods in response to his brothers’ words, as if he is hearing them but can’t accept that they might actually be for him.
“You should be up there with him,” Ax whispers. My throat tightens as I nod my agreement.
Everything his brothers are saying is true. I don’t think Nick has ever heard the words before. It is a tragedy that he hasn’t known how much his brothers revere and respect him.
When Adam steps to the podium, my heart seizes. You better not fuck this up.
“Thank you for attending our ceremony today. My brothers, true to form, have stolen every inch of my homework by thanking everyone who has supported this venture. They have also said what needs to be said about Nico. He is an artist unlike any of us.
“At the close of this ceremony, we will cut the ribbon, and you will be able to see the craftsmanship Nico has brought to our community. I am pleased to announce he will continue to bring his expertise to our town when we open Harris Woodworking Designs, a brick-and-mortar shop that will house Nico’s workshop and pieces for sale, next month.” Adam’s gaze falls to me. His face remains cool, controlled, but his eyes pin me in place. “With the opening of this store, Nico will reside in and support the community that has supported him during this project.”
The crowd explodes in joyous cheers and applause, triggering a fiery implosion of every delicate fiber of my being.
Kat reaches across Ax and grabs my arm, jerking me away from my spiraling thoughts. “Did you know about this?” Her eyes are wild.
I shake my head. Kat’s eyes flare. She leans forward a little more, shooting Reagan a murderous look. Ax inhales, his beefy arm stretching over me and around my shoulders. Caleb reaches across my body, his hand resting on my thigh. Reagan’s small hand reaches under her husband’s arms and grabs my hand.
I blink through the tears, determined to not fall apart in a public setting, and look for Nick. He is rooted in his chair. No longer uncomfortable with the praise of his brothers, he is a mountain of calm and focus as he stares at Adam’s back. His note cards shuffle in his hands. One of his brothers grips his shoulder in silent support. He offers a tight nod but stares forward, giving the comfort no other acknowledgment.
I keep waiting for him to glance my way, offer something, any sign, that Adam is full of shit. But there is nothing.
“Without further delay, I would like to offer Nico the chance to thank all of you for your endless support.” Adam gestures to his brother. “Ladies and gentleman, Nico.”
The crowd swells in whistles and wild applause as he approaches the podium. His uneasiness is clear to me, but I’m not sure if it’s because he has to talk in front of hundreds of people or if it’s the six of us he’s concerned about. The crowd must think he’s enjoying the attention, because they don’t let up until he raises his hand in response. “Thank you for coming out today. I am humbled by your enthusiasm for this project and your ability to listen to all of my brothers speak at one time, even if it was only for ten minutes.” Nick pauses to enjoy the laughter from the crowd. His brothers hurl responses that no one can hear, but they cause him to laugh and shrug his shoulders.
“Ben’s campaign promise to renovate the park was my favorite platform, simply because I know the joy this place brings. Center Park was filled with endless adventures, most of which brought me home covered in mud and with new holes in my jeans. This space is the background to countless childhood memories that have become family traditions. In fact, today Mrs. Kemmer asked me about the spring kite festival.” The crowd murmurs and throbs with excitement. “The fall festivals with scarecrows and hot cider always welcome the coming holidays. Winter, as always, was my favorite, with snowball fights and the ice-carving competitions.”
He pauses, and I realize I am holding my breath. I force myself to inhale, the edges of my vision going a little gray before he starts talking again.
“I remember our grandfather taking us to the ice-carving competition. I was twelve, and for some unknown reason, I was obsessed. I came here and marveled at the smooth lines and striking detail. I pulled every book on ice carving we had from the library. I begged him to let me hold his chainsaw, even an old one, so I could try to carve ice. He dismissed the idea of giving me a machine of that much power, but he offered me a place to start. My grandfather gave me my first whittling knife.
“My grandfather taught me everything he knew and introduced me to men and women who knew what he didn’t. Ed taught me the lathe and helped me package my first order of utensils. Miss Becky fed me on late nights when I came stumbling into Huffaker’s smelling like sawdust.” He huffs a laugh. “One night I came in late and starving for a roast-beef sandwich. She was frazzled because she was working the register and the diner counter alone, but she stopped everything to help me get a splinter out of my hand.”
“Anything for you, honey,” Miss Becky calls from a few rows behind me.
Nick’s cheeks redden as he laughs. “That generosity and kindness is what makes Rockland home for me and my family. I’m grateful for the overwhelming support we have received.” He looks at the crowd before continuing.
“I needed to help Ben fulfill his campaign promise. I also knew resurrecting Center Park would mean a massive overhaul. I wanted to publicly thank Ben for giving me the freedom to design and build the structures you are about to enjoy. I would also like to thank my grandfather, who offered his support and guidance in the layout of this project before he passed. I believe he is celebrating with us today.” The crowd applauds, offering calls of praise and affection. I can’t do anything but clap and wrestle with the knot in my throat.
“Thank you,” he says quietly, swallowing his emotion. “One of the conversations I had with my grandfather was about choosing the perfect piece. As an artist, as your work evolves, different projects take on different feelings. The place in my mind for my favorite was always changing.
“This project changed all of that. Working to build a place where kids can play, adults can relax, and the town can gather became my favorite project. As you move through the park, I invite you to enjoy it as I have. Thank you for supporting the Center Park renovation.”
The crowd explodes as Nick nods and takes a tentative step back from the podium. Everyone, including all of us, stands and applauds Nick’s words. Protected by Ax and Caleb, I am able to wipe away my tears and pull myself together.
Nick tries to reclaim his seat, but Ben quickly moves behind him and grips his shoulder, holding him in place. “We have one last announceme
nt before Nico cuts the ribbon,” Ben shouts into the mic.
The crowd settles, humming with excitement and energy. “The League of Women Voters petitioned to have the park renamed, given the extensive overhaul. The original name was derived from the location; Center Park is in the center of town. The town pooled ideas and voted. From this day forward, Center Park will be officially named Harris Park.”
He staggers ever so slightly. Evan moves beside him and wraps him in a rugged hug. When he lets go, I watch Nick’s hand press against his eyes. The rest of his brothers hover around him, sheltering his emotion in the moment. Only Adam remains at arm’s length, watching his brothers attend to Nick.
They did the same thing in the hospital and when he returned home. They shielded him from others until he could stand on his own. His family had his back while Adam stood guard.
The pressure in my throat grows to an unbearable proportion, blocking out air and trapping in the riotous pounding of my heart. I had no clue about any of it. His connection to this place. His desire to return. The story of how he came to be the man I know today.
I feel punched, bruised by the beauty of his words. Words, expressions that he always claimed he never had. I’m not good with words, Sky.
In a rush of activity, the group gathers at the opening, and a countdown is shouted out before Nick snips the thick red ribbon to open the park to his community.
The six of us stand together, watching the flood of people move through the entrance, hugging Nick and his brothers, as if we are behind a wall of glass. We are here, but not in this moment. The energy. The joy. Nick’s unbridled happiness as he receives praises from everyone he encounters belongs to them, not us.
The truth is too much to accept, because it is so pure. Nicholas William Harris is unlike any other version of himself that I have ever seen. Here he is the truest form of himself.
“He belongs here,” Ax says quietly, and I wonder if I have said the words aloud.
I nod, afraid that if I open my mouth the flood of emotion will push out with such a force that I won’t be able to control it.
“Fuck,” Ax grates as he pulls his phone from his pocket. With his eyes still on Nick, he answers. “Pax—” His greeting is cut short by rapid-fire words on the other end of the call. “Yeah,” he says. “I can be there first thing in the morning.”
“Work?” I ask, watching the celebration.
“Yes.” He inhales, then exhales a deep, aching sigh. “I can leave early and get there before debriefing.”
“Can I go with you?” I ask without looking at him. Numbness flows across my chest and into my limbs.
“Is that a good idea?” he counters with the same passivity.
“Is staying?” I reply, swallowing down my heavy heart.
“I can go with you,” Kat chimes in.
“No.” Ax doesn’t wait for me to reply. “You stay here with your husband. I’ll take you back, Sky. We need to leave early, like before-crack-of-dawn early.”
“Consider my bags packed.”
“Okay, fine. What are we doing now?” Caleb asks the group. “Sky, what do you want to do?”
“I want to punch him in the face. I had no clue he was staying here.”
“You need to talk to him about that, Skyler. You don’t have all the information,” Caleb says.
The tone of Caleb’s voice gives something away. “And you do?”
He hesitates, a knowing glance passes between Caleb and Ax and Blake.
“Caleb, did you know?”
“Sky—”
“You knew he wasn’t coming home, and you kept it from me? You’ve witnessed everything over the past twenty-four hours and said nothing to me!”
“You asked me to keep your business private, and I did. He did the same. Don’t challenge my loyalty to my friends,” Caleb replies, his voice boiling under the pressure of the moment. I feel like I want to rip someone limb from limb in the middle of a celebration with a fucking marching band playing “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow.”
“Okay, everyone hold on a second.” Reagan steps between Caleb and me. “Skyler, there are two options here: we walk through the park with a happy face, or we all go back to his house and get you packed to leave. Make your choice.”
Selfish feelings tear at the wounded pieces of my heart, urging me to leave. But Nick worked so hard, and he deserves this moment without the drama of a jilted . . . whatever the hell I am. It’s a terrible moment when you realize the man you have confessed your heart to, your intimate partner, actually has no identifiable title.
“We need to see the park,” I say to the group. “He didn’t tell me about opening the business for a reason,” I lob the statement toward Caleb, hoping he will give me something.
“You aren’t alone in being surprised, but you need to talk to him,” he offers.
It’s not enough. I look at Ax. “When are we leaving?”
“Three o’clock,” he says, but his eyes are trained over my head. When I look in the same direction, I see Ronnie fawning over Nick. She is touching him, laughing, and engaging people who are attending the ceremony.
“She presses her agenda, doesn’t she?” Reagan asks from the back of the group.
My heart seizes when I see them walking together. He’s not reciprocating any of her attention, but she’s there. She’s here. Ronnie is home for him. This home.
This place with his brothers and his gorgeous home and his childhood memories. This community that has helped to shape a young man’s skill and pulled splinters from his hand late at night. This town that puts Nicholas William Harris as ease. The place that released him from the stingy tightness of Boston and everything there.
I swallow down the pain and the hurt. The feeling of worthlessness and the fear that women like Ronnie will take my place are shoved in tight compartments. The unsettling feeling that I never had a place in Nick’s mind is battled back into its dark corner.
“Let’s see the park,” I say. They all agree and follow me into the park like soldiers in an army of six.
Chapter 38
Skyler
“Nick,” I whisper, “are you awake?”
The heavy labor of his breath informs me he’s still fast asleep. He stumbled into bed two hours ago and rousted me with deep affection. Nicholas William Harris celebrated his momentous night with me in the privacy of his home. No words were spoken, just Nick and me and a cocoon of warmth. He let go. He opened up. He was free.
Because he is here, where he belongs.
I took every ounce of it. Inhaling and touching and absorbing every possible second of his adoration. It was the only way I could walk away. I needed to replenish my memory of him. Of us. Just one more time.
I slid out of bed and into the hallway bathroom to freshen up before meeting Ax in the living room.
“Sky . . .” Ax hesitates. “Are you sure you want to do this?”
“No, but I can’t stay here forever. I have a life, a job, a home . . .” I falter when I think about my room at Reign. My one little box that would fit inside Nick’s kitchen. “He has plans to stay here that clearly don’t include me. I need to take that as a hint.”
“I need you to know that I do not agree with this plan.” Ax has an amazing ability to stay calm in a hurricane. He can issue a brutal truth with such a finesse you actually thank him for his insight. He is a total bastard. “What you’re doing, this choice, has consequences.”
I nod and place a letter to Nick on the heavy table. “I know.” I feel a pressure rise against my ribs and chest. My fingers tremble, fighting this urge to shred the words I penned. But all of them are true. I can’t demand his presence. I cannot force him to be with me. I can only hope that he continues to feel the same way he did last night for the rest of his life, in a place that loves and supports him so freely. This place without me.
Chapter 39
Nick
“You’re a bitch, Harris.”
Kat circles my living room like a ca
ged lion. A lion I’d love to shoot, stuff, and mount on my wall. “Who the fuck do you think you are?”
“I think I’m Katya Roman. Who the fuck do you think you are?” she volleys back with all the force of an unpinned grenade.
From the other side of the couch, Blake snorts. “Katya Roman.” He draws her name out, savoring the sound. “I like that.”
“Kat,” Reagan says, ignoring Blake despite sitting right next to the gloating pig. “Give him time to explain,” she pleads from her spot on the couch.
“Explain what?” she demands. “Explain how he’s leading a double life? How he made plans to relocate and told no one. His friends”—she gestures to Blake and Reagan—“his boss”—she points at Caleb—“or his . . .? What is she, Nick? What is Skyler to you? Can you clarify that for the room, because you act like you’d take a bullet for her, but you can’t seem to get your shit together enough to tell her teeny details like starting up your own business three hours away.”
Information swarms in my head, creating a hellish cyclone of chaos. Skyler is gone, again. This time with Ax. They disappeared into the night without a word. Adam, the slimy fucker, made the announcement about Harris Woodworking Designs at the ceremony because he knew I wouldn’t challenge him in public. The positive response from the community about the shop was so overwhelming it almost felt right. The thoughts of a business and Sky and Rockland all seemed attainable. I came home high on the fantasy of what our lives could be, and she let me drown in every inch of her gorgeous body. I felt so much through the ceremony—happiness and heartache—and I needed a safe place to purge. She received everything I gave her, but she left before she heard my mind. Before I could talk to her, tell her my plan, exhaustion took over. Now my girl is gone, and I have a jury of four staring me down.
At this point, there are no other options, so I face the spitfire blond looming over me with a murderous glint in her eye.
“Adam, my oldest brother, created Harris Woodworking Designs. He thought creating a brick-and-mortar store would entice me enough to stay. He hired Ronnie, Veronica Jessup, to design the webpage. I have no clue what Adam has said to her, but she has been on my ass like a barnacle since I arrived. Ed told me about the shop and the website before the wedding, when we were getting beers. I swear I had no idea.”
