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As soon as Erin settled in the car and shut the door, he blurted, “I’m leaving tonight.”
“What?”
He put the car into drive and navigated over the plowed roads. “The coroner will get you the death certificates and then you can close out all his accounts. I don’t care what the will says. Do whatever you want with the house and the store. It’s all yours.”
He didn’t want anything. It made him feel better knowing his sister could have whatever was left. Now she could afford a fresh start.
“You can’t put all this on me, Harrison. I need your help.”
He was giving her as much as he could offer. “I can’t stay here,” he snapped, feeling like a cornered animal. “This town, these people… I don’t belong here anymore.”
“Why is it always about you? What about me? Do you think I want to deal with any of this shit?”
“Then don’t. Sell the house, as-is, and start your fucking life, Erin. He’s not your excuse anymore.”
“Fuck you!”
He deserved that. He was putting a lot on her. But he was done with this place ten years ago. Getting involved now felt like a step backward.
He wasn’t like her. He couldn’t look his demons in the eye and just shake it off. Those memories reminded him of a person he no longer was.
As he drove down Main Street, he found himself searching for Mariella’s car, but he didn’t see the Volvo anywhere. Something had to have kept her away today. This inconclusive feeling was suffocating him.
He pulled into the driveway at their childhood home, and his gut twisted. If Erin really needed something, she would call.
The lie singed. Erin had too much pride to beg for help when it wasn’t firmly offered.
His neck was sweating. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his collar.
He should go in and get her settled. Maybe go over a plan to break down the next few steps—no. He couldn’t walk in that house again. Ward might be gone, but he still couldn’t do it. The fucker’s memory was everywhere.
“He’s dead, Erin.” Harrison wasn’t sure if he said the words for her sake or his. “Take whatever he had left and use it to start your life. He at least owes you that.”
She scoffed and climbed out of the car, holding the door as she judged him through the dark lenses of her sunglasses. “He is dead. At least for me.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re the one who can’t face this.”
“Oh, bullshit—”
“You can’t even walk in the house, Harrison! You accuse me of making excuses, but I stayed. I took it. I faced what you didn’t have the balls to face.”
“I don’t have to listen to this,” he snarled, jerking the car out of park.
“You left me here and you never looked back. I was fifteen. You knew it would get worse for me with you gone, and you didn’t care. I’m not surprised that you’re leaving again, leaving me to deal with the crap you can’t handle. But don’t you dare accuse me of being some willing victim of abuse.”
Was that what she thought? That he saw her as weak? His sister was one of the toughest women he knew, all spit and vinegar, a fighter through and through.
But she was right about him. He had run away because he couldn’t handle it anymore. He was tired of fighting back when he’d much rather save his strength to fight forward, toward a better future.
Maybe that meant their dad won. Because when Harrison left home, he’d felt truly beaten.
“I fought back the best I could, Harrison. I tried to fix it instead of running away.”
Goddamn her. Like he didn’t already feel like a total coward. “And like I told you before, you can’t fix nasty when it’s sewn into someone’s soul.”
“Well, Harrison, I guess you win then.” She slammed the car door, walking away with the last hurtful word.
CHAPTER 11
Three Months Later
* * *
Mariella’s footfalls clicked over the porcelain tile of the lobby, muffling the moment her heels hit the corridor carpet. Her steps moved fast, motivated by the first thought she had that morning, which—for once—had nothing to do with Harrison Montgomery.
She knocked on Mauricio’s office door.
“Come in.”
She grinned and set his coffee on his desk. “You’re going to love me. I’ve finally got it!”
“Good morning to you, too.” He popped open the lid to the travel mug and sat back in his chair as he took a sip. “Every time you bring me coffee from the café I’m reminded how much our hotel coffee sucks. We need to convince Gage to invest in a better machine.” He set the mug down and crossed his arms over his pristine white dress shirt, top button undone as usual.
“Are you ready?” She could barely contain her excitement.
“Hit me with it.”
She held out her hands as if reading each word off an invisible marquee. “Salmon pinafores.”
