Landon misses the piece of popcorn—again—and I laugh. We’re in the middle of a board game that got paused when the doorbell rang. Allison went to get the door, and Landon has entertained himself by trying to catch pieces of popcorn in his mouth ever since. So far, he hasn’t caught a single one.
“Your turn, Mom,” Landon says as soon as Allison reappears in the den.
“Oh, okay.” She replies right away, but her voice sounds distracted.
Allison looks at me, her forehead creased.
“Who was at the door?” Hugh asks.
“It’s for you, Harlow,” Allison tells me, rather than responding to her husband.
“For me?”
I’m surprised. I don’t have much of a social circle here. Or any social circle here. The few people I see when I’m in Claremont on breaks are mostly Landon’s friends, who I’ve gotten to know over the years.
“Who is it?” Landon questions, abandoning his popcorn attempts.
The only people I’m close to who live in Claremont are in this room.
Except…
My stomach somersaults. He wouldn’t come here, right? Wouldn’t choose—want—whatever we are exposed to the estranged half of his family.
I didn’t think so, but I don’t know. The last adjective I’d use to describe Conor Hart is predictable, which Allison confirms with her next words.
“It’s Conor.”
“Conor? Here?” Hugh sounds stunned.
“What?” At the same time, Landon sounds incredulous.
Fuck. I only think the word, but I’m tempted to say it aloud.
“I’ll be right back.” I stand from my spot on the couch, brushing my salty fingers off on my leggings.
“You’re…what? I’ll come with you.” Landon stands too. “I can’t believe he thinks he can just show up—”
“I’ll handle it, Landon.” My voice comes out sharper than I mean it to, because whatever reason Conor is here, I’m sure Landon getting involved won’t help.
My best friend opens his mouth to protest, but Allison’s soft “Landon” causes him to close it again.
I glance at Allison. She’s looking down at her wineglass, swirling the red liquid around.
I’m guessing she’s realized which guy I was talking about the last time I was here.
Conor has burned a lot of bridges in this family.
Whether or not he was justified in lighting those fires is a matter of opinion. Of perspective.
I don’t say anything else before leaving the room. There’s a draft through the front hall that I follow to the open door. A lone figure is leaning against the railing that surrounds the front porch. One I would recognize, even if Hart and 15 weren’t emblazoned on the back of his sweatshirt.
I grab my jacket off the hook, slip it on, and then step outside, closing the door behind me.
Conor turns at the quiet click, his eyes skimming up and down my body. Despite my annoyance that he didn’t give me a head’s up he was coming over and my confusion about why he’s here, excitement is the primary emotion I’m experiencing. I’m always excited to see him, and I didn’t think it would be until Monday at the earliest.
“You lost?” I ask.
“No, I just happened to be walking by.”
I roll my eyes at what I assume is sarcasm. But then I realize there’s no car on the street and his cheeks are red from the cold. “Wait, you actually walked here?”
“A high school buddy of mine lives a few blocks over. I was there for a party…and ended up here.” He sucks his bottom lip into his mouth, then glances at the house we’re standing in front of. “Haven’t been since I was seven, you know.”
“I…figured it’d been a while.” I step closer, so there’s about a foot of space between us. Lean against the railing, mirroring his casual pose. “Streak didn’t end.”
One corner of his mouth—the side I can see—curls up. “Look at you, checking scores. I thought you had better things to do with your time than follow hockey, Hayes?”
“I didn’t just check the score. I watched the game.”
He glances at me, surprise sketched into the lines of his face.
“They, um, livestream them.”
“Yeah, I know.” Conor pauses. “I just didn’t know you knew that.”
“I’m glad your mom was there.”
He looks down at the wooden boards of the porch. “Me too.”
I’m out of small talk. He showed up here—after fifteen years—and I want that to mean something. But I’m not sure if it does, or how to ask him that. And it’s a conversation I’d rather have at Holt, when I’m not about to have to go answer a bunch of questions about us.
“What are you doing here, Conor?” I ask softly.
“I just wanted to see you.” He shoves away from the railing. “I’ll let you get back to your board game.”
“How did you know we were playing a board game?”
He rolls his eyes. “Lucky guess.”
“What am I supposed to say to the Garrisons about you coming here?”
“Whatever you want.”
“I didn’t think you’d want them…knowing about this.” I wave a hand between our bodies.
“I don’t care what they know,” he tells me. “You’re the one who has the relationship with them.”
“He’s your dad, Conor! You want me to waltz in there and tell Hugh we’ve been sleeping together for weeks and that’s why you showed up here?”
“I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have come.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at the strands roughly. “I’m just…I’m back here and it feels different. You’re here, and that’s different. I want to see you and not see them, and I can’t.”
“What do you want me to do? Go sleep at a hotel?”
He exhales. “No, of course not.”
I step into him, so we’re only inches apart. The hoppy smell of beer mixes with his usual pine and salt scent. “You were drinking?”
One of his hands tangles in the ends of my hair, tugging gently at the strands. “I had a couple. This and Christmas are the only vacation I’ll get before we hopefully make it to the finals.”
“Before you definitely make it to the finals, you mean.”
He smiles. “Yeah.”
I rise up on my tiptoes and kiss him, moaning when his grip tightens in my hair. His other hand sneaks under my jacket and the sweatshirt I’m wearing underneath, exploring my stomach and then moving up to my breasts. I put on a sports bra after showering earlier, the stretchy material moving out of his way easily as he cups my breast and rubs my nipple until it’s an aching point.
Conor groans into my mouth as I tug his bottom lip between my teeth. He tastes like beer and mint and desire. I slide my hands under his sweatshirt. Hot, firm skin tenses under my touch. I can feel him hardening against my stomach.
“Worth the walk right there,” he whispers, when our lips finally separate. He drops his hands, and reluctantly, I do too.
“Were you not having fun at the party?” I ask.
“Not really.” He studies me for a second. “Did you ever meet Landon’s ex? The blonde?”
“Kelly? Yeah, why?”
“She was at the party earlier.”
“Okay…”
He looks away.
“She hit on you?” I sound annoyed, and it’s not on Landon’s behalf.
“Little more than that.”
“What did she do?”
“Uh, followed me into a bedroom and then took her shirt off?”
“That’s…descriptive,” I say.
“You asked, Hayes.”
“And…”
“And I told her I wasn’t interested and left.”
I want to fling more questions at him. Ask why he was in a bedroom. If he was tempted to take what she was offering. Whether other girls at this party hit on him.
But I swallow them all.
“I should get going,” he tells me.
“You’re good to drive?” I hear the naked fear in my voice, and he does too.
“I promise.”
I nod. “Okay.”
Conor shoves his hands into his pockets and nods back. “I’m going to a party on Friday night. Another high school thing, but much bigger. Half the town usually shows up. If you’re around and want to go…let me know.”
He leaves it as an open invitation, but I don’t have to think about it. I’ve never been to a party in Claremont. And, more significantly, I’m curious to see what Conor’s life here is like.
“Yeah, sounds great.”
“Yeah?”
He sounds surprised I want to go, which surprises me.
“Will all your high school exes be there?”
Conor looks amused by the question. “I don’t have any exes, Hayes.”
“High school’s where the heartbreaker nickname originated, huh?”
Rather than smirk, he turns serious. “You’re the one who broke Williams’s heart.”
It’s the first time he’s mentioned Jack to me in weeks. Maybe he thinks I’m judging him?
“You worried?” I ask, feigning disinterest in his answer.
“I don’t have a heart to break.” He flashes me a cocky smirk—the one I hate. The arrogant I don’t give a shit expression. “I’ll text you about Friday.”
He turns and walks away, leaving me standing on the Garrisons’ front porch.
The house is silent when I walk back inside. There’s no sign of Hugh or Allison, but Landon is slouched in the same spot as he was when I left the den.
“Long chat.” Landon speaks first. “Lot longer than it takes to tell a guy to fuck off.”
I sigh. He’s not going to take this well, no matter what. “Landon, I’m sorr—”
He cuts me off. “What was he doing here, Harlow?”
“He wanted to talk.”
“About what?”
“Just…stuff. We’re…friendly.”
“You said you never see him.” Landon’s voice is accusing.
I swallow. “That was true, when I said it. Things…changed, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”
“Are you dating him?”
I shake my head. “No.”
“Have you slept with him?”
“That’s none of your business.”
Landon snorts, both of us knowing that’s the same as a yes.
I study my hands, clasping them together so tightly I can see the bones beneath the skin. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“He’s a mistake, Harlow.”
“I can make my own choices. I never liked Kelly, but I didn’t tell you she was a mistake.”
“Kelly didn’t make it her mission in life to make my family miserable.”
“She wasn’t very welcoming toward me,” I point out.
Landon looks away, at the roaring flames licking the logs in the fireplace.
“What could you possibly like about him?”
I sigh. “A lot.”
“I can’t believe this.” Landon rubs his eyes with his palms like he’s trying to erase the sight of me. “I really can’t believe this is happening. After all the shit Conor’s pulled? He used to mail back the birthday cards my parents sent him, did you know that? He locked himself in a bathroom here once, and they almost had to call the fire department because his mom was at work and they couldn’t reach her and he refused to come out. In high school, he would make out with one girl in the parking lot before school, and a different one at lunch. But, yeah, there’s a lot to like.”
“What would you have done, in his position?” I ask.
“None of that.”
“Your dad left you and your mom, you would have been fine with it?”
“That is not what happened, Harlow. He’s feeding you bullshit. For years, my dad tried to make amends—”
“I know he’s tried, Landon. But…you don’t try to make amends unless there’s something to be forgiven for.”
“I can’t listen to this.”
Landon stands, then stomps out of the room.
I exhale, slumping back against the cushions. I should probably be mad at Conor for putting me in this position—for showing up here and making me have to answer Landon’s questions. But a big part of me is relieved. I’ve hated keeping this secret, not only from Landon but from Allison and Hugh as well.
A door slams upstairs, suggesting Landon made it up there. I should probably go to bed too. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving, and after tonight it’ll probably be an awkward day. Being exhausted won’t help.
“That turned into quite the evening.”
I glance over at Hugh, who’s appeared in the den’s doorway, watching as he takes Landon’s empty seat. Exhale. “Yeah.”
“Conor hasn’t been here in a long time.”
“Yeah. He mentioned that.”
“You two are…involved?”
I almost smile at Hugh’s tactful language. “We’re friends, I think. Maybe I should have mentioned it sooner, but…Landon reacted about how I expected him to. I was never sure how to bring it up.”
Hugh sighs. “He and Conor—well, that’s my main regret. Aside from my own relationship with him. I hate that my boys became enemies, not brothers.” He looks at the fireplace. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes, Harlow. A lot of mistakes that hurt a lot of people. No one is perfect, but I’m a damn ways away, that’s for sure.”
“Conor mentioned some…more recent history.”
“Allison knows everything that’s happened. Landon doesn’t.”
I nod, having assumed as much. “Landon resents Conor for how he’s treated you. Treats you.”
“I know.”
“I’m not saying Conor handled things the right way. But…he had some good reasons to lash out. Landon doesn’t know that.”
“You’re right,” Hugh says quietly.
A log cracks in the fireplace.
“What’s he like?”
“Conor?”
Hugh nods.
I know Landon is hoping my connection to Conor is temporary. But Hugh? His face is lit up with the feverish light of forbidden knowledge. He doesn’t have anyone else to ask about Conor, I realize. Their lives are totally disconnected, with the one exception of me.
“He’s…incredible.” Softly, I add, “You missed out.”
Hugh’s smile is sad. “I know I did. I always hoped…pushing for a relationship didn’t seem to help. I thought if I backed off for a while, he’d reach out on his own one day. Never happened.”
“I wish things had worked out differently,” I say.
I’m not going to offer Hugh any false hope. I know Conor has absolutely no interest in a relationship with his father, and it seems cruel to suggest otherwise, knowing he’ll be shot down.
And…I’m angry at Hugh, for how he handled things. Maybe that’s not fair, in a situation that has nothing to do with me directly. Everyone makes mistakes, and it’s obvious he regrets the past. But that past is affecting my present. My future.
Maybe Conor would have no interest in a relationship with me regardless of my connection to the Garrisons. Maybe I’m using the history as an excuse for a happily never after that would have happened anyway.
But I’ll never know for sure, because Hugh’s actions drove Conor away to the point he won’t even come inside this house. Can’t even stomach being civil to his father. Ignored me for three years, because I accepted their offered kindness.
And maybe Hugh hears that, because he tells me, “I would make different choices if I could, Harlow. And not just for my own sake.”
I nod, then stand. “I should get to bed.”
“Good night.”
I leave Hugh alone in the den. With his thoughts…and with his regrets.
