When Rivals Love

by Beck, J. L.

  They come almost simultaneously. Oliver holding me close to him, and Banks leaning over my back, kissing my shoulders until he stills inside of me.

  I’ve never felt so spent in my life. I’m physically drained but emotionally full. This was so much more than sex; it was us becoming one. Four people coming together and proving how much they belong as one.

  “I love you,” I murmur into Oliver’s skin.

  “I love you too,” Oliver replies.

  “You have no idea how much I love you,” Banks says in between kisses to my heated skin.

  “I love you too, Harlow, we all do.” Sullivan appears next to the bed. I turn my head to look at him. “I ran a bath for you. It’s ready when you are,” he smiles, and all I can think of is how I got so lucky?

  3

  It’s weird to be back in Bayshore, maybe because I didn’t think I would ever return here. It all looks the same, like the college town I remembered it to be. With bars, coffee shops, bookstores, and small 24-hour convenient stores on every corner; to fill every student’s needs.

  “We’re going to drop you off at the gallery, but we won’t leave you there alone. We’ll be right outside in the car,” Oliver explains as if we are planning some kind of super-secret mission.

  “I’ll be fine. It’s an art gallery, and it’s not like anybody would expect me to be here. I’m just going to walk in and see if Shelby is here so I can talk to her. If she isn’t, I’ll walk right back out, and we’ll think of another plan, okay?” I look between the guys and wait for all three to give me a small nod before I open the door and get out of the car.

  I can feel their eyes on me as I walk down the sidewalk toward the storefront of the gallery. A pounding forms behind my eyes and the sense of deja vu overcomes me. I continue walking until I’m in front of the glass door, my hand on the handle ready to pull the door open when the memory rushes in like water flooding a basement, seeping in through all the open cracks.

  “I’m looking for Shelby. I’m sorry to show up here, I know she is working but this is kind of an emergency.”

  “Who?” The woman looks genuinely confused, her eyebrows drawing together.

  “Shelby,” I say louder, she must have not heard me clearly.

  “Doesn’t ring a bell. Is she one of our artists?”

  “Oh…ah, maybe… maybe I'm at the wrong gallery, I’m sorry,” I say embarrassed, before turning on my heels.

  “This is the only gallery in town, miss.”

  I freeze with my hand hovering inches away from the doorknob. My mind goes blank and then this feeling of utter dread creeps its way up my spine and settles into the base of my skull.

  Nothing makes sense, everything I thought I knew is wrong. My life built with building blocks of lies and deceit and like a Jenga tower someone pulled the one piece that has it all crashing down.

  I feel like I’m trapped in this moment, my mind frozen in time. My thoughts hovering somewhere in between disbelief and unbelievable despair.

  “Are you okay, miss?”

  When I shake out of the memory, I’m not sure how long I’ve been standing there, but it feels like an eternity. I don’t know why I’m so surprised by this lie. I already knew she was lying to me about numerous things, so why does this feel even worse?

  “Harlow? What’s wrong?” Banks comes out of nowhere, his hand coming to rest on my lower back.

  “She never worked here,” I answer. “I just remembered it. She lied to me about this too.”

  “I’m sorry… come on, let’s get you home,” Banks coaxes, his voice laced with concern. I let him lead me down the sidewalk, my mind still reeling from the recovered memory.

  For some reason, I can’t shake the feeling that there is more… more to this story… more I need to remember. It isn’t until we are about to cross the road that it hits me. The most important memory of all. The final piece to the puzzle…

  I look up, the scenery changing around me, the ground beneath me suddenly seems different. Sounds piercing through the fog surrounding my brain. Someone is screaming, but I can’t make out what is being said. Then something catches my eye. I look up to see two bright lights heading straight for me. But I’m not fast enough, there is no time.

  I watch in shock as the engine revs up, the car coming at me, and all I can do is stand there like a deer caught in the headlights… literally.

  There is a moment, just before the impact, where the headlights are so close that they don’t blind me, I can look above them, see through the windshield and get a look at the person who is trying to kill me.

  It’s only for a split second that I see her eyes; cold and detached, full of hate, and I don’t understand why? Why does she hate me that much? Why would Shelby try to kill me?

  “Harlow?” Banks is suddenly right in front of me, his hands on my shoulders, shaking me gently as if he is trying to wake me up from some nightmare. But I’m not asleep, this is not a dream, this is reality. Shelby, the person I thought of as my best friend my entire life, hates me, hates me so much that she wants me dead. My chest heaves, and it feels like a piece of my heart is breaking off.

  Why? Why would she want me dead? Did I do something that I don’t remember?

  “Harlow? Harlow! You’re freaking me out. Please tell me what’s wrong,” Banks questions frantically. I can see him, but not really. It’s like I’m lost in my thoughts, trying to thread them back together.

  “It was Shelby… I… I remember. Shelby was the one that tried to kill me. She hit me with the car on purpose. I saw her, it was her,” I continue rambling on more to myself as Banks leads me to the car, halfway carrying me at one point.

  He helps me into the back seat and buckles me up. Oliver and Sullivan twist around in the front seat their faces conveying a similar concern to Banks.

  “What happened?” Oliver asks, but I can’t say the words out loud again, they hurt too much.

  “Just find a hotel. I’ll explain everything there. We need to take care of Harlow first. She’s remembering things,” Banks explains, and Oliver takes that as his cue to drive off, pulling into city traffic with ease, leaving the gallery and the memories behind us, but not forgotten. Why? Why would she do that?

  Banks slides across the bench seat and closer to me until his body is practically against mine, his body heat seeps into every pore of my body, soothing me in an instant like a blanket wrapping around me on a cold winter night.

  Unable to resist, I turn to him, seeking the comfort he gives, burying my face into his chest. Without realizing it, I start to sob, letting all the anger, frustration, confusion, and hurt out. The tears fall from my eyes rapidly, and I don’t even attempt to wipe them away.

  By the time we get to the hotel, my vision is blurry, and there is a throbbing pressure inside my skull that seems to expand with each second. Oliver goes inside to check us in so that when we get out of the car, we can go straight to the room.

  When we make it up to the room, Banks leads me over to the sectional, and the guys circle around me. All I can do is stare down at my hands, the same thoughts circulating in my mind.

  “Why? Why would she want me dead? Why would she do something like that? We were supposed to be friends. She was my best friend, and…” I continue to mumble beneath my breath like a crazed person.

  I can feel the brothers’ eyes on me, and when I look up, I see nothing but anguish and worry flickering in their gazes.

  “Shhh, baby, it’s okay.” Oliver soothes this time. What would I do if I didn’t have them right now? If I was stuck back in my father’s mansion? Shelby could easily get to me there. Then it hits me.

  “I could’ve died. She could’ve killed me and gotten away with it, and no one would have known.” The weight of that knowledge feels like an elephant sitting on my chest.

  “If it was Shelby who hit you with the car at the art gallery, then I’ll bet anything that she was the one to push you off the boat the night you almost drowned.” Banks says.


  “I can’t believe this. I didn’t particularly like Shelby, but I honestly didn’t think she would be capable of something like this. I don’t hit women, but I really want to hurt her for doing what she did to you,” Sullivan hisses as if he’s in pain.

  “I just want to know why? What did she have to gain from killing me?” The tears start to fall again, and I don’t understand why I’m crying over her. She doesn’t deserve my tears.

  “No one knows, but you can bet we’ll figure it out. From here on out, it’s us versus everyone else. We’re not trusting anyone outside this room. No one is going to take you away from us or hurt you again.”

  Opening my mouth to say something, the words disappear, sticking to the roof of my mouth like peanut butter, and then I realize it wasn’t words I needed to expel. I feel my stomach churning like I’ve just been on the longest roller coaster of all time. In a second, I’m flying from the sectional and heading for the nearest door.

  Oh, god. I’m not going to make it.

  I don’t even get halfway to the bathroom before vomit erupts from my throat, splattering across the pristine floor. I empty the entire contents of my stomach while someone holds back my hair and someone else rubs soothing circles over my lower back. I don’t look back to see who it is, mostly because I’m too embarrassed to look at anyone right now.

  When my body is done convulsing, my throat burns, my eyes tear up, and my head throbs in pain. I feel disgusted and ashamed when I straighten back up to see all the guys standing around me while there is a puddle of vomit in front of me.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous and apologize for being sick,” Sullivan tells me. “Come on, we’ll get you cleaned up.” He gently takes my arm and pulls me toward the bathroom.

  “I should clean this up,” I complain, trying to pull my arm away.

  “I’ll call room service. Don’t worry about anything, just go take a bath,” Oliver waves me off, and Banks falls in step with Sullivan and I. Flanking me on both sides, they take me to the large master bathroom. Banks turns on the water, filling up the large garden tub while Sullivan starts to take off my clothes he just bought me this morning.

  “I don’t know what happened. I was fine one minute, and then I wasn’t.”

  “It’s okay, that was a lot to take in. I don’t know if I could have stomached all of this either. Seriously, don’t feel bad because there is nothing to feel bad about,” Sullivan soothes, trying to calm me down.

  When I’m completely naked, Sullivan takes my hand and helps me to get into the now half-filled tub. The water is the perfect temperature, and I sink into the bubbly goodness with a sigh. It feels like I’m sinking into a bath of heaven. Banks gets two washcloths, handing Sullivan one. They each squirt some soap on to their cloth and start washing me with it. Sullivan starts at my feet while Banks starts at my shoulders.

  Closing my eyes, I let them massage and clean every inch of my flesh. Their hands move over my skin, and as if there is some kind of magic involved, all the tension and worry evaporates into thin air.

  In this space, no bad feelings or worry can get to me. Nothing can touch me right now. By the end of my bath, my body is so relaxed, I feel boneless, my muscles have turned to jelly sometime in the last thirty minutes, and now I can barely keep my eyes open.

  “You ready to come out?”

  “Yeah,” I barely nod.

  Banks offers me his hand and helps me out of the bath while Sullivan grabs a bathrobe, holding it open for me. My arms slide into the fluffy fabric one at a time, and Sullivan closes the belt around my waist, tying me up like a perfectly wrapped gift.

  “I like this,” I giggle. “You guys taking care of me. It makes me feel like a princess. Like I’m important.”

  “You better get used to it,” Banks tells me, right before he surprises me by picking me up bridal style. Letting out a startled squeal, I throw my arms around his neck. “’Cause we’re not planning on stopping any time soon.”

  He carries me out of the bathroom, and the strong citrus odor of cleaning solution tickles my nostrils. Room service must have already come and cleaned up the mess I made earlier.

  Banks places me on the bed, and as if on cue, Oliver walks in, holding a tray of food and puts it on the bedside table, I look at it wearily. Crackers, an assortment of prepared fruit, hot tea, and ice water sit before me. None of it looks all that appetizing, but then again, I did just barf all over the floor.

  “I had them bring up stuff that I know will ease an upset stomach,” Oliver explains as if he can read my mind. I don’t know what to say, so I just push from the bed a little and wrap my arms around his middle. Oliver bends down and returns the hug.

  “Thank you, no one has ever taken care of me the way that you all do.”

  “Stop saying thank you. We do it because we want to, not because we’re obligated to.

  “We love you, Harlow, and nothing has, or ever will change that. Not our parents. Not yours. Nothing. The circumstances of our relationship might not be perfect, or even common, but that doesn’t make what we all have any less special.” Banks intercepts, and my heart swells, growing bigger with each beat.

  Tears well in my eyes. I’m consumed by them. My heart beats for them each in its own way. There is no me without them.

  “We’re supposed to hate each other, but it seems all we’ve ever done is love each other.”

  “Because we weren’t meant to. Before, we just let our parents dictate our lives, but that won’t happen again.”

  “Good, because I don’t know what’s going to happen next,” I admit while nibbling on one of the crackers. Not only do I feel like crap, but I truly have no idea where to go from here. Do I stay hiding out with the Bishops for eternity? Not that I wouldn’t like that, but it’s not really all that feasible of an option.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Banks rubbing at his chin. He looks to be lost in thought, and I wonder what he’s thinking about. Each brother is handsome beyond measure, how the hell did I end up with all three of them?

  Sullivan clears his throat, drawing all the attention in the room to him.

  “You said our father was in the photos you found in your father’s desk. The one with the mystery woman… Phoebe?”

  Swinging my gaze to him, I stare in confusion. “Yes. Your father was in some of the photos. I had planned to ask my dad more about it, but as you know, he hung up on me before I had the chance. He won’t talk to me again until I go back to North Woods, and none of you will allow that.”

  “Because your father is crazy,” Banks chimes in.

  “Because Shelby is still out there walking free,” Oliver adds another brick of worry on their ever-growing pile. “We need to tell the police, Harlow. Are you up for that?”

  All of their concerns weigh heavily on me, weighing down my heart. I don’t take them lightly because I see how much I mean to them now and how dangerous things really are, but I didn’t escape one ivory tower just to be trapped in another.

  “Yes,” I sigh. “I’ll call them, but I still want to talk to my father. Staring down at the comforter, I say, “I understand why you don’t want me to see him right now, and I’m okay with that, but I’m not some fragile piece of glass. I don’t just want answers… I need them, which means eventually I won’t have an option but to see my father again.” Silence blankets the room, and I peek up through my lashes to see if they’ve disappeared into thin air.

  Nope, they’re still inside the room, and currently staring holes through my flesh.

  “I have an idea.” Oliver is the first to break the silence.

  “Well, what is it?” Banks asks impatiently.

  “We could bring you to our father…” His voice trails off, and I wonder if he’s being serious or not.

  “Your father would let you bring me to your house?” I ask, trying to hide the surprise from my voice.

  Sullivan shrugs, “What’s the worst he could do? Tell us to leave? We can’t
let you near your father right now, so the next best thing would be our father.”

  “Maybe he can piece the missing pieces of your puzzle together?” Oliver adds.

  “Or he could be a huge prick and make things ten times worse,” Banks mutters under his breath. Oliver and Sullivan look at him, their features hardening.

  “You aren’t helping.”

  Banks lifts his hands as if to say he’s innocent. “Look, I’m not trying to be a negative nelly here. I want Harlow to get all the answers she needs just as much as you both do, but Dad isn’t going to take well to us bringing a Lockwood home.” Our gazes meet as he says the next words, “Last names don’t mean shit to us, but Dad still sees her as the enemy, and I don’t want her caught in his crosshairs.”

  To many, I might be weak, but I am mighty, and if I want answers, I may have to cross bridges that shouldn’t be crossed. I may have to do things that I shouldn’t do, but I’ll do what I need to do. No one is going to dictate what happens in my life anymore.

  “Let’s do it.”

  “Seriously?” Banks runs a hand through his hair as if he’s agitated. Was he not expecting me to go along with this?

  “Yes, I want answers. Your dad has some. Let’s do it. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  “’Kay, I’ll make the arrangements, and tomorrow we’ll visit our parents,” Oliver announces as if it’s final to his brothers.

  Banks leaves the room a moment later, and Sullivan walks over to the bed and crawls into the vacant spot left beside me.

  “Is he going to be okay? I ask. I kind of want to chase after him but know he needs the space.

  “He’ll be fine. He’s just worried about what our dad will say or try to do to you.”

  I nod, understanding completely.

  “Our father won’t touch you. Not if he wants to live.” Oliver’s words have a sharp edge to them, and I shiver wondering if he really means that. Would he, and his brothers go against their parents for me? Would they risk it all for me?