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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

brOOKS

I t was almost dark by the time I found myself standing outside Harlow’s front door. The building was on the Upper East Side, just a few blocks from Central Park.

I called Molly, to get Harlow’s address and we talked about how we’re going to handle this. Once we knew when they planned on bringing Baz in for questioning, Molly would call in an anonymous tip to her friend, who worked at the local news station.

That way, if for some reason, Baz was able to weasel his way out of the charges, he wouldn’t be able to escape the negative publicity.

Which, for him and his family, would be just as bad.

I pulled on my shirt and tapped my knuckles on her door. Her little steps could be heard on the hardwood floor.

Probably no more than ten seconds had passed, although it felt like hours until the door whipped open. And there she was.

“Brooks.” She stood in the doorway, barefoot, in a pair of jeans and a black sweater. Her hair was thrown up on top of her head, and she didn’t have an ounce of makeup on her face. Her eyes were red-rimmed, like she’d been crying.

“You drove here?”

I didn’t answer her right away. Just crossed the threshold and pulled her into me. She tensed for a second before melting into my chest.

“Tuck and I talked to the owner of the hardware store,” I said, breathing into the top of her hair. “He confirmed that Baz was there the night you came back into town. Tuck got his statement.”

She stood back slowly and adjusted a strand of hair that came loose from her bun. “Mona told you?”

I leaned against the doorframe. “Yes.”

She blinked, not saying anything at first. I thought she would be happy. Her silence was throwing me off.

“Come inside so we can talk.” She led me through the small entryway.

I inspected the living room as she led me to the couch.

The place was modern and clean. It was a little too small for a big guy like me, but otherwise, it looked comfortable.

The walls were a warm beige. The furniture was classy and inviting, exactly what I had pictured for her.

She dropped into the worn spot in the corner of her L-shaped sectional and fiddled with her hands.“I have proof that Baz and my dad were behind the flooding of my house.”

I suspected that was the case when Bob said the guy who phoned in the order sounded older, but for her sake, I hoped it wasn’t.

“That’s why you came back here? To confront him?”

She nodded. “That was the plan.”

I brushed my thumb across her cheek. “What do you mean, that was the plan?”

She pulled a pillow onto her lap and twisted her fingers around it. “When I got to his office, he wasn’t there, so I snooped through his things.”

“What did you find?”

She reached over and pulled out a slip of paper that was folded neatly in half.

“I found this in his desk. It’s a receipt from the hardware store. The date matches. The supplies match. They both knew exactly what they were doing.”

I reached over and handed her a tissue when I saw the tears start to fall. “I’m so sorry, Harlow. You don’t deserve this. I promise they will pay. Molly and I already have a plan in place.”

“I know, she told me, and I am one hundred percent on board.”

I glanced down at the piece of paper. “Are you okay with turning over that receipt to the authorities? It will definitely help.”

I knew how hard this was for her. She’d been fighting for her father’s love and approval for her entire life.

She was doing her best to stay strong and hold herself together, which gutted me more than anything.

I could tell she was tired. Tired of being manipulated, tired of trying to fit inside a world that she never felt comfortable in.

And what made it even worse was that it was clear to me she still loved him. I could see it in her eyes and sense it with every shuddering breath that left her lungs.

She leaned back and tucked her knees to her chest. “I was trying to figure out what to do with this information. I thought about holding on to it as leverage to keep them both away, but I worried that it wouldn’t be enough and, quite honestly, I’m sick of keeping secrets.”

That got my attention. “What do you mean?”

“What I’m about to tell you, I should have said a long time ago.” She rested her chin on her knees. “Do you remember the night I left town?”

I stiffened. “Of course, I do.” It was one of the worst nights of my life.

“I didn’t leave because I was choosing my dad over you.” She swallowed and looked away. “I left because my dad gave me a choice. I could either walk away, or he would do everything in his power to ruin you and everyone you cared about.”

I was so stunned; you could have knocked me over with a damn feather. “That’s why you left me?”

All these years, I assumed she just chose her dad.

That she was too loyal, and he was too controlling.

I told myself over and over again that she was a coward for not standing up to him.

I believed nothing I could ever say or do would be good enough.

I never understood why until today. She was protecting me.

She twisted her hands in her lap. “I couldn’t let you and your family lose everything because of me. My dad has money and connections. He would have done irreparable damage to your reputation. He threatened to go after your family’s business.”

That man took years away from us. All those nights I’d laid in bed, hating her. Now that I knew the truth, I hated myself more for not seeing it.

“You should have told me,” I said, staring at the woman I spent years trying to get over but never could. “Why did you let me hate you and think the worst?”

“Because I knew you would be angry and go after him.”

I looked away. My heart was racing because she was right, I would have. And maybe it would have cost us everything, but at least I would had know why.

I reached out and brushed my thumb along her ankle. “I get why you did it, but I wish you hadn’t made that decision for both of us.”

She hung her head. “I know. I’m sorry. I struggled with that decision for a long time. That’s why I spent years avoiding Marcellus Falls. It was too hard for me to think about running into you, but the day I ran from the church, I knew I had to go back.” Tears filled her eyes. “Are you mad?”

“I am, but not at you. I’m angry at him for tearing us apart. I’m mad that he stole years from us that we will never get back.”

“I understand. So, what happens now?”

I glanced at the window. The city of Manhattan buzzed on the other side. I looked down at my watch, knowing I didn’t have much time left.

I squeezed her hand gently. “I need to do something, and you need to let me.”

She tensed. “Please don’t. I just want to put all this behind me and go home.”

I smiled at the word “home” coming from her beautiful lips. “I want that too, but you know the kind of man I am. I can’t let this slide. He didn’t just mess with you, but he tried to ruin me, too.”

She sighed and leaned back on the couch, knowing she wasn’t going to talk me out of this. “Fine, but please don’t get arrested.”

I laughed. “I promise not to throw the first punch. How is that?”

“I guess I’ll have to trust you.” She stood up and started moving across the room. “I’m going to pack a few boxes. I’ve already contacted a realtor about listing this place. There is nothing left here for me. I’ll be ready to go when you get back.”

I stood up, gave her one last kiss, and stepped out onto the streets of New York, determined to reclaim our life and be done with the son of a bitch once and for all.