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He turns away from me, scrubbing his face in his hands and then resting his arms forward on his legs. “You didn’t cause that fight, Lark. He said what he said, but his grudge goes way back. We’ve crossed paths before. He didn’t lie about Lucas and me combing his parties for girls. Hell,” he says, looking back at me again. This time with a smirk. “We even stole his booze.” He stands as slow as he can, his hand protectively covering his side. When he turns around, the grin is gone, and I already miss it. I look away as he says what he needs to get off his chest. “I’m damn sure not pleading a case. Facts are facts, but I’m telling you, no one in my past matters.”
As much as I want Harbor not to focus on Dane and what he said, partly because it hurts to know I caused it, but also because I know Harbor would have blown it all off if it didn’t affect him. “You don’t have to justify your past to me.” Rolling my head to the side, I ask, “Do you think I would believe him over you?”
“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave it to chance.”
I slide out of bed and into his arms. “If I were ever forced to choose a side, I’m always choosing you, Harbor. Always. But you know that. So what’s the real reason you’re telling me?”
His head lowers, his gaze taken with it. Pressing his temple against mine, he stays and inhales. The rough scruff on his face scratches against my soft cheek, and then I’m granted the warmth of his eyes again. “Because your so-calledfriendwants you to believe you’re nothing but another Friday night fuck to me. You’re not.” Cupping my face, he kisses me and leans his forehead against mine. “You’re the whole fucking universe. You’re where time begins and ends and every moment in between.”
I didn’t know it was possible for a heart to soar, but I cover his hands, holding him so tight that he never lets me go, or I just might float away. “I love you,” I whisper, though the words aren’t adequate for how I feel about him.
Our heads straighten, but our eyes reestablish the connection as we stare into each other’s gaze. He says, “I’ll get your brooch back.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll figure it out.” He kisses me and then whispers against my lips. “I promise you, Lark. One day, you’ll have it back.”
It’s not what he says or even his tone. When his soul made a pact with mine, I knew he’d keep his promise.
35
Harbor
I could have just calledthe cops on Dane and Mia. They’d match it to the burglary report, arrest them for stolen property, and Lark would get her mom’s jewelry back. All would be well again.
But it’s not a simple situation. It’s not strangers involved, but her close friend and the woman carrying his baby. I know she wants the brooch back, but I also know Lark would never want to ruin lives to get it. I’m not above it, but I think patience will be our ally.
I must convince him to give it back to her. I’ll pay more than its street value since I know he can’t pawn stolen goods. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her whole again. I can’t bring back her mom, but I can get back the only thing she has left of her.
After Amanda didn’t answer at her place, I’m trying a different route. Might not be my best decision, but I’m desperate.
It’s been years, three, maybe four since I’ve been to the house on Dobson, but it appears abandoned—letters overflowing the mailbox and flyers hanging from the handle of the screen door and littering the front porch. The landscaping and lawn are in need of a good trim. It’s the broken window and ripped curtain that doesn’t sit right with me, though. Lucas and I used to party here on occasion, but it was late, usually after midnight. If I had seen it in the daylight, I might not have come.
I don’t mess with the rusting screen door. The sharp metal pieces look ready to stab its next victim. I knock beside the door on the rotting wood, hoping I don’t break right through. Stepping back, I leave space for whoever answers the door, not wanting to crowd them.
The curtain inside is shifted to the right. Beady eyes peer out at me and then to my car at the curb. “You a cop?”
“No. I used to come around back in the day. I’m looking—”
“I don’t care who you’re lookin’ for. Go away.”
I dare to peer in, but he scurries behind the safety of the door. “Is this Terry? Hey, I’m looking for Dane. You remember him?”
There’s rattling, like the sound of a cage, and then he replies, “No, so fuck off.”
I’ll admit if this wasn’t exactly like the start of most horror movies, I’d probably stay and try a different tactic. But no, I think I’m good. “Okay, cool, man. Thanks.”
I walk on the stairs, wondering what the fuck I was thinking. Not that I think he’d pull a weapon and shove me in his cage, but I’m not feeling that lucky today. I get in my car without incident and head to the restaurant near the highway where Amanda works.
When I walk in, a few guys in trucker hats turn to stare, not giving me an ounce of leeway to make myself more comfortable. I look back to the right, where some families are sitting, and then to the left.
“Harbor?” Amanda’s mouth twists, and she comes toward me from the right.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing here? Is Lark okay?”
“She’s . . .” I’m about to fill in with “good” or “fine” as expected, but I hesitate because she’s getting by today after the emotional turmoil of the incident last night with Dane. But Amanda knows that, so I don’t have to pretend. “She’s been better. She’s at the library tonight, studying.”
