Page 13 of Wishing Hearts

“Fallin’ for what?” I ask. “I’m a genuinely concerned citizen here. I have only your best interest at heart.”

I place my hand over my chest for emphasis, and Harrison shakes his head.

“Somehow, I believe that last part,” he says, nearly making me lose my breath. “Your turn.”

As Harrison resettles against the couch, turned fully toward me now, my mind runs wild. “I’ve never broken up with anyone,” I blurt.

Harrison’s eyebrows rise. “How many people are you dating?”

I bark a laugh, and Harrison grins. “None,” I answer. “They’ve always broken up with me.”

His grin turns into a frown. “Why?” I open my mouth, but Harrison goes on quickly. “Never mind. That was too personal.”

I shrug. To be honest, I wouldn’t have minded answering his question. I’ve never had much of a filter. But Harrison yawns, and I’m distracted away from the topic.

“C’mon,” I say, standing up. “Let’s go lie down.”

Harrison eyes me a little dubiously, mouth parted like he’s trying to figure out how to politely decline.

I roll my eyes. “I’m not in the habit of fuckin’ unwillin’ men, Harrison. You look beat. I just figured you might wanna rest.”

It’s not all that late, but after the day we had, my body is feeling the exhaustion, too.

But… I don’t want to go. Even though sex is off the table, I want to stay. And I’m hoping Harrison will let me.

Finally, he stands, giving me a nod. “All right.”

With a smile, I set my empty beer bottle aside and follow Harrison down the hall to the bedroom. The walls are light green in here, like celery, and the comforter is a deeper sage. Harrison swings up and over the top of the mattress, plopping down with zero finesse whatsoever, and with a happy little grin, I follow.

He bounces lightly when I jump onto the bed, and I lie down next to him. Harrison is on his back at first, but he shifts to his side, mirroring my pose, and for a minute, we stay that way: watching each other, neither of us saying a word.

When Harrison exhales deeply, tension leaches from his frame. “Do you ever feel like…like you’re watching your life from the outside?” he asks quietly.

“Like as a bystander?”

He nods against the pillow. “Yeah.”

I think about what I told him earlier. About how I’ve always been the one to be broken up with. The one to be left. I think I understand a little of what he means. How it feels for things to be out of your control.

“Maybe,” I answer. “A li’l.”

He nods again, slowly, his brow creased.

“D’you feel like that?” I ask softly.

He blows out a breath. “Sometimes. It’s like…life just keeps moving. It just keeps moving forward down this path I never signed up for in the first place, and there’s nothing I can do but hold on and pray I don’t fall off the tracks.”

Well, fuck.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him because what else can I possibly say?

His lip quivers for a moment, and if I hadn’t been looking directly at his mouth in the first place, I would have missed it. But then his face is stoic once more.

“There’s so much in my life I love,” he goes on, eyes intent on me, as if he’s trying to get me to understand. “So much I wouldn’t change even if I could. But sometimes it feels like I’m not living my own life. I’m living someone else’s. And every time I think that—every time I feel a little resentful toward the curveballs I’ve been thrown—I get hit with so much damn guilt, it’s a miracle I stay upright. There’s no one I can tell that to, Sam. I can’t say it aloud to anyone in my life, and I’m sorry for putting it on your shoulders—”

“Hey,” I say gently, reaching forward and grabbing Harrison’s hand. He latches on tight, and I swallow around the thickness in my throat. “It’s all right. You can tell me. I’m a good listener.”

“I don’t even know you,” he says with a wet laugh.

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