Page 38 of Make Her Mine

“You’re the one who thinks that Sapphire Falls is a fucking haven. Everyone should live here. If someone can’t be happy here, they’re done for, right? Sapphire Falls makes everything better. All you have to do is live here, eat a few pot pies at Dottie’s, have some frozen lemonade at the stupid town festival and your life is sunshine and fucking rainbows.”

I narrow my eyes and step forward. “Yes. I do believe that Sapphire Falls can be a haven. It is the epitome of home and family, and people deserve that, Jefferson. The fact that you look down on it, that you feel stuck here, and your entire mission in life is to make sure everyone gets the fuck out of here, is your problem.”

He pushes off the door and steps toward me. “And the fact that you think everyone should come here, and never fucking leave, never think about anything bigger or better—yes, Harlow, I said better than Sapphire Falls—” He spreads his arms wide. “Am I going to be struck by lightning? Is the god of Sapphire Falls going to smite me?”

I’m breathing faster and my heart is pumping. “If you hate it here so much, why did you come back?”

“Why can’t you believe that I don’t hate it here?”

“Because you keep trying to make people leave.”

“Just because Sapphire Falls is where I want to be, where you want to be, where a lot of people should be, doesn’t mean it’s right for everyone.”

“Just because a place is bigger, glitzier, has fancier restaurants and higher paying jobs, doesn’t make it better,” I insist.

“And just because people have to travel a few hours to come home and see their family, doesn’t mean they love them less.”

I just stare at him. If anyone else were saying these things to me, I would probably agree. I am a grown woman. Mature, intelligent, even rational most of the time.

I have made my life’s work finding people, especially kids, homes and families. It is important to me that people feel like they belong and that they find a place where they can be safe and happy.

Has Sapphire Falls been that place for me and the people I love most? No question.

But I am aware of the fact that Sapphire Falls cannot shelter everyone.

Still, there’s something about Jefferson that makes me incapable of being rational and admitting all of that.

At least at this moment.

“Look at your dad,” I say. “He’s a world-renowned scientist. He meets with world leaders. He is literally on the front lines of helping cure world hunger. And he came to Sapphire Falls, fell in love with your mom, realized that this tiny little town had what he wanted to be happy and moved his whole company here. He brought a whole bunch of people here who also fell in love with this town and who consider it home and who count all of these people as their family.”

Jefferson rolls his eyes. “You know that not everyone can stay in Sapphire Falls. You know that that is not actually best for everyone. I don’t know why you have to be such a brat.”

“Leave Mia alone,” I say, going back to my very first point. I’m about to lose the thread of this argument, and I know it, so I dig in.

“So now Sapphire Falls is also a mental and emotional haven? The pot pies, and festivals, and barbecues, and sweet town square aren’t enough? We’re not even supposed to think about sad things?” he asks.

“Not...Mia.” I realize that sounds silly, but I can’t stop.

“What if she can help someone? What if she can be that friend, that support system for someone, that you talk about being so important?”

“She should get to escape from what she went through.”

“That’s not how this works and you know it.”

“You’re a school counselor. You’re supposed to help kids apply to colleges and work study. Quit acting like you’re some kind of mental health expert.”

That was a low blow. I’ve seen Jefferson in action. He was amazing when Alex was going through everything. He was amazing for me. Having him there with me while we were searching for Alex, while we sat in the waiting room at the hospital, while we listened to the kid sob his heart out, made me stronger.

But, as always, Jefferson doesn’t even flinch at my insults. He studies me for a moment, then he says, “I know she was your first case. But just because Mia might get sad sometimes, or scared, or even relive some hurts, doesn’t mean you’ve failed her, Harlow. You have helped her. No matter what still lingers or what’s ahead.”

I feel like he just slapped me.

How does he know that’s how I feel? How can he tell that I’m afraid that I haven’t done enough? That what my family has built around her won’t be strong enough?

I frown and squeeze my arms tighter against my stomach. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

But holy shit, I definitely do. And I’m reeling from the idea that Jefferson might know this about me.

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