by Tess Keeler
Who was I kidding? I had always been pathetic when it came to her.
Mason, Everly, and Henley all got things sent, too. At least I wouldn’t have to wrap any of those.
The rest were in the middle of the floor in my room, and Asher was intermittently helping me get them somewhat presentable to be placed with the other presents. I wasn’t that great at wrapping stuff, but it was nice to try. My family didn’t get that from me often.
Underneath the tree was getting fuller, and it was starting to finally feel like the holidays with my mom and Bella dancing to Christmas music and making sugar cookies in the kitchen.
Dad wasn’t home yet, so I sat at the piano and played along with a few of the songs my sister and mom were enjoying. Bella loved it when I did that.
I had plenty of time to write songs, and honestly? I was blocked. I thought the pain would bring a lot of inspiration, but it was having the opposite effect. It was frustrating to me, but I tried not to think about it too much. I knew it wouldn’t help my inspiration either way.
Every day that slipped by, I wondered if Harper was home. If her presents had made it there. What if she was home and got them, and didn’t want to talk to me?
The pain from our break up hadn’t eased at all, and I spent more time crying about our memories than I wanted to admit.
I missed everything about her. And with the intensity at which I felt it, I didn’t think I’d ever get past it. Maybe I wasn’t meant to.
After Christmas, I got a small yellow rose tattooed under the knuckle of my thumb of my right hand. It was something I had planned to get, and I refused to change my mind. She was one of the best parts of my life, regardless of our ending, and I wanted to remember her and all the happiness she gave me. Maybe it made me masochistic. I didn’t care if it did. She was my first true love, and I never wanted to forget her or us, ever. Even when it got easier, at least I’d have some part of her attached to me.
It had been almost a month since I had been home, only a few more days of 2019 left. I could only hope that 2020 would prove to be a better year— a year of renewal and acceptance. I had the Grammys to look forward to, recording my fourth album, and then a promotional tour to finish it off.
Mason and I had kept in touch our entire break, and he even was trying to make it to Tulsa for New Years. A few months back, I had gotten my parents a trip to Cabos San Lucas as an early Christmas gift, and it was over New Years. Bella was staying with my grandparents so I would have the house all to myself for a few days. Why not throw a small party for the important people in my life to come? Maybe it would work as a distraction, too, if I was lucky.
“That would be rad,” I said, raking my fingers through my hair. It had gotten longer and it made my curls fall over my forehead more often— I needed a trim at least.
Mason was chewing gum in an attempt to lessen the number of cigarettes he smoked. He hadn’t quit yet, but he was down to a pack a day as opposed to two. Progress was progress.
“Aye, then it is settled.” He laughed before adding, “I’m glad you are excited because I’ve had the ticket for two days already.”
I had even persuaded Asher to give Mason a shot, and I hoped they could get along for my sake— at the very least.
“So, would you be mad if I told you I heard from Harper?” Mason’s voice was reluctant. I could hear it in the tone, even through the phone. I sat up straight.
“Mad? No. Not at all.” I felt myself fumbling a bit. “How is she?”
Mason sighed, the hesitation obvious. “She’s okay. About as good as you’re doing, I suppose.”
What did that mean?
“Did she say anything about the gifts I sent her?” My leg began to bounce, nerves running rampant through my body. Mason knew that I had sent her something, so maybe he asked her? “Is she safe and at home?”
“She stopped home for Christmas, I know that.” He replied, “And I know that she wears that necklace every day.”
I rested my forehead in my hand, my chest tightening in validation that she had my stuff. The watch she gave me for my birthday slipped down my wrist. Even though it hurt not to hear from her, I still felt a little bit of hope knowing she had it on. Close to her heart.
“Does she ask about me?” I shook my head even though he couldn’t see me before I sit up straight. “You don’t have to tell me that. I’m sorry. I know you and her are friends, too.”
“She does,” Mason didn’t hesitate that time, and I felt my heart expand.
I closed my eyes before responding, “Thank you for telling me that. I needed to hear it.”
1
Make You Mine
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Harper
Don’t do anything the old me would do.
I was smiling at Mason’s text as I sat at the bar Grace had dragged me to. Well, before she had found some poor unsuspecting guy to dance with. I loved my best friend, but she was more of a mess than I was. My left hand reached up to touch the silver music note hanging from my neck, a constant reminder of what I had lost. I missed him, so much.
“I haven’t seen you here before,” a man said. Was he talking to me?
Looking toward the sound, I noticed a pair of icy blue eyes taking in my strappy heels and my black tulle skirt that covered from my ankles to my waist, until I finally caught him staring at my breasts under a white crop top t-shirt. I wanted to gag. “May I help you?” I asked, my eyebrows lifting.
“You were sitting alone, so I figured I could buy you a drink.”
I pursed my lips. Even Mason was smoother about offering to buy drinks for girls. Nixon was incredibly better at stranger etiquette. I wasn’t sure I would ever stop comparing my life to moments with him. “I really don’t want any company. Thanks, though.” I didn’t sound sincere as I turned back to my phone, prepared to respond to the friend I knew was in Tulsa with my ex-boyfriend. What were they doing?
“Come on, honey. Why don’t you let me loosen you up some?”
I snapped my head in his direction, glaring. There was this slimy smirk on his face. It took everything I had not to smack it off. I hated bar attention. Grace knew that, and yet, we were always here when I visited her. To make matters worse, it was midnight on New Year’s Eve—more drinking to make up for the depression of an awful year’s ending and a new beginning.
“I’m good,” I hissed through my teeth.
This man had the audacity to reach out and touch my thigh after I tried to look back at my phone. He tried to slide it inward and up, and I hit it. Hard. “Don’t fucking touch me.”
“Playing hard to get?” he asked.
I realized he wasn’t going to give it up, causing a shiver to run through my spine. I looked over my shoulder in search of my blonde friend, who was nowhere to be found. He was closer to me. Was his mouth in my hair? On my ear? I called Grace once, and it went straight to voicemail. Standing, I watched him tumble over some. I called Mason.
“Please pick up,” I whispered, fearing for my safety if he didn’t. I guess I could have called the cops.
“Where are you going, doll?” the voice buried itself beneath my skin, haunting me as I walked the familiar downtown street of my hometown. I didn’t even have a vehicle to run off to.
“Heya, love,” Mason’s voice felt like the closest thing to home. I hadn’t realized how much I missed all of those boys, but especially him and Nixon.
The man’s footsteps were loud behind me, and I swallowed hard before growling backward, the phone held slightly away from my mouth, “Leave me alone! I mean it.” I held myself with my free arm, walking as fast as I humanly could to somewhere public. A fast food place maybe? “Mace, can you stay on the phone with me?”
“Aye, you alright?” he asked, more seriously now.
“This pig won’t take no for an answer. He’s following me, and I’m on fucking foot.”
Golden arches. They were in view now.
“Do you need me to call the police? Where are you
?”
I started to pick up my pace when I heard him whistling at me. “I love it when you run away from me.”
“Maybe,” I admitted. “Bitch ditched me again. I’m so tired of this.” My heart had been racing the entire time, but I didn’t want to admit that I was scared.
“Where are you, Harper?” he asked again.
“Right. Uh…” I squinted at the sign I was approaching. I couldn’t hear the footsteps anymore, but I didn’t want to stop or turn around to find out. “13th and Walnut.”
There was a pause, but I heard hushed speaking in the background. “We’re getting you an Uber,” Mason said.
The sigh I released was one of relief, even if I did know Nixon was right there with him, helping him help me. Did he still love me, or did he hate me? Did I choose to call Mason because I knew Nixon would be there? “What if they can’t find me? I don’t want to stop walking.” I chewed on my lip as the fast food restaurant came closer to me. I was a couple blocks from it now. “I’m scared,” I whispered, not wanting the man to hear it if he was still there.
“Don’t worry, love. It’ll be okay.”
I blew out a deep breath and tried not to sound like I was entirely out of shape as I raced for the bright lights illuminating the outside seating area.
“Aye, there’s a Mcdonald’s a block away from you. We’re having it meet you there. It’s estimating a minute.”
“Thank you,” I said, my heart throbbing. I didn’t belong here anymore; I should be with them.
“Of course. Please let us know when you get home. Don’t hang up until you’re in the car.”
“Okay,” I said, concentrating on the destination.
I stepped onto the property as a car pulled up to me, the most friendly face in the front seat. I turned to slide in and saw the man, much further away but still trailing me.
“Are you Harper?” the woman asked me.
“Yes.” I slumped into the chair with my phone still pressed against my ear. I directed my attention to the boys, my heart sinking at the thought of hanging up. Mason could pass the phone over to Nixon. It would be no big deal. “I’m in the car, Mace. Thank you again.”
“You’re welcome. Let us know when you’re home. Otherwise, we’ll worry.”
I couldn’t help but smile something small at the mention of “we”. “I will. Good night.”
“Night, love.”
I had tried not thinking about Nixon. A month had passed since I had broken up with him, and the pieces of my heart were still shattered and scattered about in my body. Talking to Mason eased some of the worries I had, even if he had mentioned that we were handling it equally as well—that wasn’t good, because Mason knew I was a wreck. I had spent the last week with Grace, and she had tried night after night to get me to move on and get a new man. Tonight was the end of my single, barhopping days. I hated bars. I hated getting hit on. I missed being a part of something real and important. I missed being treated like the woman I am and not the toy men wanted me to be. Most of all, I regretted breaking up with my one and only chance at true love. It didn’t come along more than once—no one could convince me differently.
I texted Mason as soon as I locked the front door behind me, and then Grace.
I made it home. No thanks to you.
My parents were asleep, leaving the house dark and quiet. I still felt uneasy as I walked to my room, so I locked that door too. After my heels were removed, I climbed into bed with the lights still on and pulled the blanket up to my nose. My phone went off on the nightstand where I had placed it, but I didn’t check it. Instead, I wallowed in the self-pity of a breakup I caused.
New Year’s Eve was not off to a good start when I walked into the kitchen to find none of my tea stash. After the night I had, I was really looking forward to the pick-me-up. I even had some lavender honey stashed—or did before my parents went through all of it. “Mom, you guys don’t even drink tea.”
“Sorry,” she said as she pushed eggs around in her large skillet. Her full lips showed concern for a second, only one, before she was smiling again. My parents had slept in, and she was cooking up a late brunch.
“I guess I’ll go to the farmers’ market. Need anything?”
“I’m good. I’ll text you if I think of something.”
I hadn’t been sleeping well, not since New York. Maybe two to four hours a night. Somehow, I managed to sleep twelve hours after weeping in bed for a while after the driver dropped me off. Enough sleep to run off of for a while. When I arrived, it was almost time for them to close up the Farmers’ Market, but business was still hopping. I made my normal rounds of grabbing tea and my honey, but I always made a point to check out every table. Just in case.
“Harper Perkins?”
I turned to see a young girl, possibly sixteen or seventeen, looking at me with her hands nervously intertwined in front of her. Her short auburn hair rested just above her shoulders, and it was pin straight. I loved the light brown color of her eyes and how innocent they were.
“Depends who’s asking,” I joked, pushing my sunglasses up my forehead and into my hair.
“I’m Jackie. I’m a huge fan of Nixon’s.”
“I see,” I continued to smile. No one knew that we were broken up. I watched for those news updates. I had to prepare for possible interactions as these.
“Why aren’t you with him?” she asked. How long had she been watching me?
I wet my lips before answering her, “We’re spending New Year’s with our families.”
“That makes sense,” she said.
I nodded and prepared to leave. Talking about Nixon for too long was a recipe for disaster. “It was nice to meet you, Jackie.”
“Harper?” she asked.
I stopped and looked at her, lifting my eyebrows. “Yeah?”
“You know we don’t hate you, right?”
“You don’t?” I’m sure I sounded unsure of her, because I had seen some of the comments about our pool picture. They weren’t too friendly.
“Sure, there’s some of us that are jealous, but we all knew that once he fell for someone, that was it. Because Nixon doesn’t do anything halfway. It’s 100% or not at all.”
I wanted to ask her what made her think that Nixon loved me. Why would I do that when I knew he did? They knew he did. Nixon was acting the way he was because he was defending my honor from the awful things Douglas had said. Nixon was passionate and he cared more about me than I deserved. Why did love have to interfere with his career? He had a few hiccups before me, and we would probably have more in the future. If there was still a we. Without talking to him, I had let my brother convince me that he knew what was best for Nixon. It wasn’t mine or Blake’s choice to make—it was Nixon’s.
“Thank you, Jackie.” I pulled my sunglasses down over my eyes and held on to my recently purchased items as I fought my keys with the other hand. If nothing less, I needed to apologize to him. What would I say? “I needed that.”
Jackie didn’t get a chance to respond. I was already halfway to my van by the time she could open her mouth. Nixon shouldn’t have helped me get an Uber the night before, but he did. He also didn’t have to buy me anything for Christmas, but he did. He had sent me three presents that struck me where it hurt most. I would use them on a daily basis. Either he was trying to get me to come back or he was not good at letting go. I was going to find out.
A typical four-hour drive to Tulsa took six thanks to a blown tire. I was grateful for the spare tire I had. With the help of a young blonde stranger, I was able to get it all done in record time. He also helped me out by taking my destroyed tire with him in the bed of his truck. I hoped I was able to return the favor someday.
It was after eight when I pulled up to Nixon’s place. I hadn’t expected to see so many cars. Were they having a party? I parked away from the house, so I wasn’t spotted. I wasn’t ready yet. After hours of planning the perfect apology, I was still sure I was going to ruin it all.
&nb
sp; I crawled over my bed toward the kitchen area where I washed my hands and checked my hair. I wasn’t dressed for a party; ironically, I was still in my clothes from the day before, with the exception of flats in exchange for heels. I regretted not changing or showering between the bar and now, but I tried to tell myself that it wouldn’t change his response.
I opened the back up and stepped down into the grass. The damp blades tickled my ankle and ran over the top of my foot as I locked up, my bag already positioned over my shoulder. I took a deep breath and stared at the house, lit up from the inside but surrounded by darkness.
I held myself and rubbed the length of my arms after ringing the doorbell. My breath resembled smoke as I pushed every exhale out with force. I could do this, even if it was just for closure. How selfish was I to ruin his holiday plans for the chance of closure? I pushed my palms into my eyes and groaned a little. I was so stupid.
“Harper?” The watered-down accent forced my eyes up out of my rough grasp. I smiled sheepishly at my friend as I watched him play with his curls, his eyes wearing more shock than when I woke him in the hotel room. At least I was always somewhat expected then.
“I need to see Nixon.” My stomach churned when he stepped outside and closed the door behind him. The shock had worn off, his eyes dropping downward. “Are you about to tell me to leave?” I asked. Could he hear the pain I felt at the possibility? “Please don’t.”
“Of course I’m not going to tell you to leave, but I am a little curious why you’re here?” The question was valid. Maybe I looked like I had shown up to cause trouble. “He’s still struggling. If this break up is going to stick, seeing you will set him back about twenty steps.”
