Promise Me the Stars: A Hearts of Harkness Romance (The Standish Clan Book 3)

by Norah Wilson

  Ember’s room.

  Sidney would have her own room in Boston. A permanent one. The improbably big signing bonus Stone Thibault had offered on K.Z.’s behalf would assure that. It would be plenty enough for a down payment on a condo in a very, very good neighborhood. But she wouldn’t rush into anything. She’d rent first, make sure she knew the area, make sure Sidney was happy at her private school—tuition to the same another signing bonus. She could finally give her little girl a proper home.

  Except the only home Sidney wanted was right here.

  And April herself?

  “Well, I have to scoot.” Ember pushed back her chair and got to her feet. She touched April on the shoulder, looking down at her kindly. “Please don’t think I’m fleeing from the drama, April. I just promised Jace I’d come to see his boys do a sparring demonstration at the gym and I’ll probably stay over. But you’ll be here tomorrow, right?”

  “I will.”

  “Mind if I bring Ocean over for one last coffee klatch before you go?”

  April smiled up at her, blinking back tears. “I’d love that.”

  “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

  “Perfect.”

  She gave April’s shoulder a last squeeze, cleared her dishes to the sink, then, with her usual breakneck pace, was out the door.

  Scott and April sat in silence. Or rather, near silence. The tick tick tick of his mother’s clock in the living room marked every second.

  April’s throat ached with tears. Just a little bit longer. She had to hold off just a little bit longer. She’d cry later. When she could.

  “So, the day after tomorrow, huh?”

  “Yes.” Feeling the heaviness of his gaze on her, she looked up to meet his eyes. He’d been so supportive during the discussion with Sidney, she was startled to see the expression in them now.

  “I wish you’d found the time to tell me beforehand that you were leaving so quickly, instead of springing it on me like that.”

  Her lips thinned. She didn’t have enough on her plate dealing with Sidney, she had to think about his sensibilities? It wasn’t enough coping with her own devastation at the thought of leaving Harkness—of leaving him—while simultaneously trying to hide it?

  “Why?” She lifted her chin. “It’s not like it would have changed anything.”

  He lifted a hand to rub the back of his neck, a gesture she’d grown to know and love. “Well, no, it wouldn’t have changed anything, but I thought we meant something to each other.”

  She sucked in a tight breath. “I thought we were pretending.”

  If she’d slapped him across the face, he couldn’t have looked any more startled. Not that the look stayed long. It was gone in a flash.

  “Right. That’s what we were doing in that loft with the doors flung open to the stars. Pretending.”

  Did he want it all from her? Everything? Would he not be content until he’d wrung from her an admission of love? Because God help her, she loved him. A rambling man who would never stay.

  “Don’t,” she pleaded, poised on the brink of shattering. “Just…don’t.”

  Her throat ached unbearably. Almost as much as her heart did. She stood and started gathering the dishes from the table, then turned to the counter, away from Scott.

  She’d been pretending all right. Pretending she’d be able to walk away with her heart intact.

  You’ve been dreaming, April Dawn Morgan.

  Living the life of another woman—one who hadn’t gotten pregnant at seventeen and had to fare for herself and her child. One who hadn’t come from a family with archaic, hateful notions of womanhood. She’d behaved like a woman who could afford to dream. She’d dreamed—pretended—and look where it had gotten her.

  Oh, God, look where it had gotten her little Ladybug.

  Don’t call me that ever again!

  And Scott…

  She closed her eyes. If he touched her now, the dam would break. The tears would spill. She’d fallen in love with the wrong man again.

  He put his hands on her shoulders and it was all she could do not to wilt under his warm grip.

  “Tell me you don’t love me,” he said against her ear. “Tell me you were pretending all of that. Really pretending. And I’ll let you go, April. Right here and now, tell me.”

  She wouldn’t turn around. Through her closed eyelids, the tears spilled.

  “I was pretending.”

  He walked away.

  Chapter 40

  SIDNEY BIT her bottom lip as she leaned close to the window to peer out at the ground below.

  Heck. It was a long way down!

  It was also very dark out there. Then again, why wouldn’t it be? It was almost eleven o’clock.

  Axl whined softly beside her and she looked down at him. Even in the dim bedroom lit only by the tiny nightlight in the far corner, she could see the worry in the old dog’s eyes.

  She stepped back from the window, and lowered her backpack onto the floor, careful to avoid the strapped-on telescope making contact with the hardwood. The telescope was in its case, but still she wanted to be careful.

  Well, careful would be to not sneak out the window in the first place, not climb down the shaky looking trellis. But Ember had done it like a zillion times. If Ember could do it, so could she.

  Of course, Ember had been a teenager when she’d done it, Sid was pretty sure. A teenager sneaking out to meet a boy. Not a ten-year-old kid all by herself.

  She was stalling. She knew she was. She just needed to gather her courage.

  The house was perfectly quiet. Her mother, who’d gone to bed super early, had to be asleep by now, and Scott would be out in the hay loft where he always slept. Ember hadn’t come home yet, which meant she wouldn’t be coming home at all.

  So here she stood, the only one awake in the whole house. Well, besides Axl.

  She’d gone to bed fully dressed. When her mother had looked in on her on her way to bed, Sid had pulled the quilts up around her neck and pretended to be sleeping. She’d bent and kissed Sid’s forehead and whispered goodnight. Her voice had sounded so sad, Sid had wanted to reach up and hug her, but she couldn’t. Not without giving away that she was fully dressed. So she’d lain there without moving a muscle.

  She’d set the alarm for eleven. Not the clock alarm, but the one on her phone. And she’d set it to vibrate so it wouldn’t wake anyone else. But she’d been so anxious, so afraid she’d fall asleep, miss the alarm and sleep the night away, she hadn’t slept at all. She’d wound up shutting the alarm off at ten fifty-five and climbing out of bed.

  Her coat was at the ready, slung over the vanity seat. She’d stashed her boots beneath the chair. All she needed to do was put them on, strap on the backpack and make the climb.

  Turning, she examined once again the Sid-shaped lump she’d made under the quilts with pillows and sweaters. Pretty convincing, if someone just poked their head in the door. Yup, nothing unusual to see here. Just Sid asleep in her bed.

  Her bed?

  Nope. Not her bed. Not even close. Ember’s bed in Ember’s room, in the Standish family house. Where hobos were hobos and bastards had to move along.

  And on that thought, Sidney grabbed her coat, pulled it on, and zipped it right up to her chin. She pulled on her boots and went back to the window, and this time—ever so quietly—she slid the window up.

  Axl stood. He made a sound somewhere between a woof and a whine.

  “Hush, Axl. It’s okay, good dog. Be nice and quiet, okay?” She stroked him on his bony head where the fur that was so wiry on the rest of his body was smooth and soft as silk.

  He nudged her with his nose. Whined again, just a little bit louder.

  Oh crap, he might give her away! She hadn’t thought of that.

  “Come on, Axl,” she said. “You can sleep in Titus’s room tonight.”

  He followed her to the door. But when Sidney opened it and let him into the hallway, Axl didn’t make his usual beeline down the h
all. Instead, he just sat on the cold floorboards, facing her. To shut the door now would mean shutting it in his face, literally. So Sidney listened. Nothing. She slipped into the hallway herself. The door to Titus’s room was open.

  Grasping Axl’s collar, she led him into Titus’s empty bedroom, wincing at the sound of the old dog’s claws on the wooden floor. Once in Titus’s room, she patted the low bed, encouraging him to jump up. He obliged. When he’d settled himself, she sat down on the edge of the bed beside him.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be okay,” she whispered. Gosh, she hoped that was true! “It’s just something I’ve got to do. I really don’t want you to worry.”

  Axl lifted his big head. She stroked his fur. “I always wanted a dog. Thanks for hanging out with me. Seriously, you’re the best. I’m glad we could be friends. But if there’s one thing I wanted more than a dog, it was someone who could love my mom, and maybe me too. But especially her. Someone good enough for her. Someone who would love her and take care of her. Someone who would look at her cooking as more than just what she puts on the table, but for everything she puts into it. Like love.

  “I know Scott loves her, and she loves him too. And if ever I could have wished for a dad, I’d want it to be him.”

  Axl’s response was to lick her face.

  She smiled, wiping the slobber with her coat sleeve. “Hey, want to know a secret?”

  He just gave her more of those woeful eyes. She took that as a yes. “Every night since I got here, I’ve been wishing so hard that things would work out with Scott and my mom. I’ve been out to catch sight of that first star every evening. Well, almost every evening. I missed a couple of times but made up for it by wishing on hundreds of other stars. And I’ve been wishing like really hard. Hard as I could. But it hasn’t worked. So the way I see it, I’ve got one shot left.”

  Axl lowered his head to the bed. After a few minutes, he began to softly snore. She got up carefully, missing his warmth immediately. Biting her lip, she tiptoed back into Ember’s bedroom and closed the door behind her.

  She grabbed her backpack and slung it on, steadied her breath, and moved toward the window. “Here goes.”

  She straddled the sill, then moved her second leg outside the window. Feeling for the trellis, she finally breathed when her right boot made contact. Supporting herself partially with her grip on the sill and partially with her toes, she lowered herself, one toe-hold at a time. Then came the point where she had to let go of the sill.

  Oh wow! She shouldn’t be doing this! It was dark and dangerous, and okay, maybe even a little bit stupid for someone like her who was supposed to be so smart. What if the trellis came loose? What if she slipped and broke a leg? Or cracked her head on the frozen ground? What if there were bears down there in the dark?

  Yet she knew what was at stake, and despite everything, she hadn’t been wishing hard enough.

  There was this one shot left. One wish left, and she was barely holding on.

  Sidney took a deep breath, then reached for the trellis with one hand. Securing her grip, she let go of the sill and reached for another handhold. Whew! The trellis held! Scott must have built the darned thing. It barely even creaked under her weight.

  Slowly, carefully, she descended it.

  Chapter 41

  APRIL WOKE with a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

  She’d crawled into Scott’s old twin bed with its extra-firm mattress just after nine o’clock. She’d let the tears come then, crying as she hadn’t done since she was a new mother alone in the world. Crying like there was no tomorrow.

  In a way, there wasn’t.

  When the tears finally dried up, she’d closed her eyes, more because they were painfully swollen than because she was tired. She wasn’t sure she’d actually slept.

  She glanced at the bedside clock. The digital readout read 1:32.

  Okay, she’d definitely slept.

  She was wide awake now, though, with that awful feeling gnawing in the pit of her stomach. Had all the tears she’d cried just distilled her misery? Solidified it? As she lay there analyzing the terrible dread, she felt it slithering up into her chest, pressing down on her like a weight.

  She tossed the covers back, swung her bare legs out of bed. From this position, she could see her reflection in the dresser-top mirror. The moonlight streaming in through the window illuminated her eerily in shades of black, white and gray as she faced herself.

  Or rather tried to face herself.

  This was what she got for pretending.

  Somewhere along the line, she’d fallen in love with Harkness. With the Standish clan.

  Those Jeopardy! nights, Ember’s quick wit. Her friendship, and Ocean’s. Jace’s kindness and mentoring. Titus’s slightly uptight, by-the-book outlook. Oh, how Sidney loved to tease him! Then there was Arden and the care he took with everyone, including Sidney. And Faye. What she’d done for her little girl with the after-school tutoring was nothing short of amazing.

  And they’d all loved her cooking. The Standishs had enjoyed it around the dining room table, and the wider community had snapped it up at the market.

  April Dawn’s. It might not have been the business success she’d dreamed about as a teenager, but it was hers and it was awesome.

  She’d have to give that up too, for now. But she would make boatloads more money with K.Z. McCoy. After years of poverty—of food insecurity and not knowing if she’d be able to keep a roof over Sidney’s head—the appeal of that kind of income could not be overstated. It meant security, something they’d never truly known. Not long term, anyway.

  But worst of all, she’d fallen deeply, irrevocably in love with Scott. And she’d done it with such abandon.

  She’d known all along. On some level, she must have known. Must have felt herself falling. She’d used logic to talk herself into the affair—no, to talk Scott into it. But then it had become something else.

  Somewhere along the line, she’d moved from allowing herself the heady pleasure of intimacy with someone for whom she felt a rare attraction, a rare safety, to…well, to this. The point where contemplating never seeing him again—never having him smile at her across a room, never going into his arms at the end of the day, never running her fingers through that glossy, springy hair—made her feel bleak and empty.

  But there was no help for it. Life was back to black and white. She and Sidney had to leave. April was going to work for K.Z. McCoy. That was settled. No room for negotiation. This…interlude, lovely as it had been, was over.

  As much as her heart ached for herself, it hurt so much more for Sidney.

  As adamant as her so-smart daughter had been about knowing the difference between pretending and reality, she really hadn’t. Not deep down in her little girl heart.

  Her little Ladybug.

  Sidney had been four when April had dressed her as the world’s cutest Ladybug. Sid had loved it. And she’d loved it all the more when April pretended she’d made the metamorphosis to a real red and black bug. But that was a Halloween long ago and far away from the Viking shield maiden from Minnesota she’d played just a few months ago.

  Her precocious ten-year-old no longer believed in Santa or the Easter Bunny or any of that stuff. But wishes? Those she still believed in. She’d always been hardcore about not telling what she wished for when she blew out the candles on her birthday cakes, insisting the wish wouldn’t come true if she told. And how many times had she turned her face up to the evening sky and said those words. Star light, star bright, first star I see tonight. I wish I may, I wish I might, have this wish I wish tonight.

  Axl whined outside her door, and it was the most lonesome sound she’d ever heard. Then he whined again and chuffed out a tentative bark with it. More urgently.

  That dread she’d awoken with suddenly took a bounding leap.

  Sidney.

  She was across the room and out the door in a flash. Axl, who was standing there in the hallway, turned his big worried eyes
toward her. She hurried down the hall. Before she even opened the door to Sidney's room, she knew something was terribly wrong. Knew it from the temperature of the room.

  She snapped on the light, hoping against hope. “Ladybug?”

  Silence.

  The bed. The Sidney-sized lump on the mattress looked sickeningly familiar. Two seconds later her fear was confirmed. She tossed the blankets back and the pillows rolled out. A small cushion from the downstairs sofa, Sidney’s Canadiens jersey.

  “No, no, no! This can’t be happening.”

  She went to the open window, poked her head out and looked down. “Sidney?” There was no answer. And thank God, no broken child on the ground below.

  Racing back to the bed, she pulled the bundle of blankets right off and shook them. Something hard hit the floor. Sid’s phone. With a hideous sense of déjà vu, she tossed the bedding and bent to pick up the phone. After the last experience, she’d ensured the lock feature was disabled, so when she switched it on, she had no trouble getting into it. It opened to a picture. It was from Christmas—another strategically posed selfie. Sidney smiled in the foreground and just behind her, April and Scott sat on the love seat in the living room, looking into each other’s eyes. The Christmas tree sparkled beside them.

  She flipped through the other photos, but they were mostly of Axl, a few from around the farm, and a bunch with Sid and Danika acting silly.

  She went back to the Christmas selfie. She knew it was no accident that she and Scott were framed in the background exchanging that intimate glance. And the look on Sidney’s face was positively radiant, as though she were bursting with happiness.

  Had her little girl imagined they’d become a family? April, Scott, and Sidney?

  The thought made her want to burst into tears again, but she couldn’t afford that luxury. She had to find Sid. “Think, April, think!”

  What else was missing? She threw open the closet doors, looked high on the shelf. More déjà vu. The sleeping bag was gone. Shit! Not good.