I knew what he meant—no matter what happened with us. When whatever this was between us ended, he would help my mom if he could. I hated taking things for myself, but I would do anything to help her. I watched him, studied him as he talked to her with such care, but not in a condescending way. As they laughed and told each other stories.
He looked at me and winked, and it hit me then, this force that slammed into my chest and stole my breath.
I was in love with him. I was in love with Harrison.
How could I have let this happen? He might like me now, might enjoy spending time with me and fucking me, but at some point, he’d get tired of it. At some point, he’d leave. In my experience, they always left, and…oh God, it would break me. It would shatter my heart to lose him. And I would. Why would he stay with someone like me? Someone whose own dad couldn’t be bothered to do it.
“Hey, are you okay?” he asked, cupping my face.
My gaze darted to Mom, and I jerked away. “Yeah, fine. Just…not feeling great, is all. It’s fine. Everything is fine.”
But it wasn’t. Not at all.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Harrison
Thanksgiving morning, the house was quiet when I got up. It had been strange trying to sleep in the same house as Zander without having him in bed with me. I’d gotten used to how he sometimes pulled away when I tried to hold him, only to plaster himself on me in his sleep. The way he sometimes flailed, his long legs over me or kicking me, like his body couldn’t find peace, and then it would, in my arms.
It was fucked up because it wasn’t as if we slept together every night—he still stayed at the condo—but I’d known he was close, which meant I’d wanted him with me.
I really needed to get my shit together and stop acting like a lovesick child.
I got the coffee going before walking over to the window to look out. Ross, Trina, Warren, and George would be here in a few hours, the kitchen overrun with too many people and too many hands, which just made it even better.
I’d warned everyone ahead of time that there were to be no jokes about Zander and me doing this thing we were doing, whatever it was. That his family thought we were only friends, and Zander wanted to keep it that way. Both Warren and Ross had looked at me with eyes filled with pity, which didn’t feel all that good. They felt sorry for me, and that sucked because it maybe meant they thought I had no chance with Zander, which was fucking devastating.
I didn’t see her at first, but then I noticed Ashley on the porch swing out back. It looked chilly out, and while she had on a sweatshirt, I could see her trembling. I put my slippers on and grabbed a blanket before going out. “You look like you could use this,” I said as I approached. Her eyes were ringed red as if she’d been crying.
“Shit. Sorry, I thought I had a while before anyone woke up.” She swiped at her eyes.
“I can leave you alone if you’d rather. I just didn’t want you to be cold.” I wrapped the blanket over her shoulders.
“You can stay.” She touched the swing beside her. “You’re a good man, Harrison.”
I shrugged. “No better than anyone else. I just try to treat people the way I’d like to be treated. Thank you, though.”
“But in a world full of those who are only out for themselves, that’s rare. I’ve known too many people who try to get what they can out of others. I’ve known many nice people too, and that’s great, but you’re kind. That makes it more a part of who you really are and not just something you do.”
Warmth settled into my bones like a hug from someone who held on tight and didn’t let go. “Wow…thank you. I’m not sure what to say.”
“You don’t need to say anything.” She patted my leg. “I’m glad Zander met you. He’s…happy, settled in a way I’ve never seen him.”
“That doesn’t have anything to do with me. It’s all him—who he is and his hard work paying off.”
“Yes and no.” She looked at me and smiled. “He’s special. I always knew that. From the moment he started walking and talking, he was this ball of energy, with the biggest heart. Even when he didn’t believe it, I knew he would put a lot of good into the world. Zander is kind…just like you. He wants to help people and be there for them. He tries to take care of me and Molly even though it’s not his responsibility. Zander fights for the underdog and can’t understand people who hurt others but don’t care enough to stop.”
She was silent for a moment, and I wondered if she was talking about Zander’s father.
“He’s also deathly afraid of being hurt—something that’s happened too much in his life—and he struggles to trust people. Those two things are likely very much my fault.”
“No,” I told her, but she was already shaking her head.
“Yes. It’s a hard pill to swallow, but I’m working my way through that. I accepted behavior I shouldn’t have, which affected my children. I’m their mom. My biggest job in this world is to protect them, and I didn’t always do that. Not on purpose, but that doesn’t change the result. I keep doing it too. At some point you’d think I’d learn my lesson.” She wiped a stray tear. “But I’m done with that now, and I’m trying to be stronger. This wasn’t supposed to be about me, just…just that whoever loves Zander, I hope they’re patient with him. I hope they see how incredible he is, how much he loves, even when he’s scared and running.”
I do, I wanted to tell her, but I held myself back. That was between Zander and me. “I’m sure they will. It’s impossible not to see how incredible he is.”
She turned to me and gave me a sad smile. “It is, isn’t it?”
I nodded.
She wiped her face some more, and we sat there, swinging but not speaking. I liked his mother a lot. She’d clearly been through hard times and hadn’t always made the best choices, but that didn’t mean she was a bad person. She was the exact opposite—someone who maybe loved too big and accepted being hurt because of it.
I didn’t know how long we sat there before the door opened and Zander came out. He looked adorable, sleep rumpled in flannel pajamas, his hair a mess. “Is everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes,” she replied. “I couldn’t sleep and came outside. Harrison was kind enough to bring me a blanket and keep me company.”
His gaze tracked back and forth between the two of us, not accusingly, but curious. “Okay,” he answered, then looked at me. “We always make French toast Thanksgiving morning. I’m the absolute best at making it.”
“He’s not wrong,” Ashley replied.
“Do I get to witness this amazingness of yours?” I asked.
Zander gave me my favorite smile, the one that was real, and I knew he felt down to the marrow of his bones. “Even better. You get to help.”
“There’s nothing I can think of that I would enjoy more.”
I stood, held my hand out for Ashley, and helped her to her feet.
* * *
We made a mess of the kitchen cooking breakfast. Molly came out not long after we started, saying she smelled her brother’s French toast.