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Andi opened her mouth, then closed it again. “I’m not trying to psychoanalyze or anything. Believe me. But do you think that’s the reason you aren’t interested in sex? That the last guy you had it with got you pregnant, then walked out?”
Harper didn’t physically move, but she did withdraw. She could actually feel herself pulling away, closing in. She didn’t talk about that time in her life. Partly because there wasn’t a whole lot to brag about when it came to teenage pregnancy. And partly because she hated talking about her past. She hated even thinking about it.
But mostly she kept quiet because she was afraid. The last thing Brandon had said to her after she’d told him she was pregnant was goodbye.
Right before he’d uttered that word, though, he’d warned her that if she didn’t get an abortion, his parents would take the baby. If they knew they had a grandchild, they’d insist on raising it to be a proper Ramsey, and there was nothing she’d be able to do to stop them.
Harper had believed him.
She hadn’t obeyed him, of course.
But she’d definitely believed.
She’d kept her pregnancy a secret from everyone she knew, cleaned out the college savings she’d been hoarding since she was eleven, stuffed her clothes in a backpack and ran. She’d changed her life. She’d become the opposite of where she’d come from. And she’d kept quiet. Because she had no doubts about the reality of Brandon’s threat. If his parents knew about Nathan, they’d try to take him.
She had built a life that would be hard for them to challenge if it went to court. She was an upstanding citizen with a thriving career; her son was happy and healthy and attended one of the best private schools in Santa Barbara. Their lifestyle wasn’t as affluent as the Ramseys’, but it was good. Solid. No custody court would say otherwise. If it ever came down to it, nobody could justify taking Nathan from her.
It wasn’t until she felt Andi’s hand close over hers that Harper realized she’d been silent for way too long. And that her hand was trembling.
“Sorry,” she said, dismissing her anxiety with a laugh.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It’s been a long time. It’d be pretty stupid of me to let him control my choices after all these years, wouldn’t it?”
“I don’t know, Harper. Maybe leaving you high and dry, never contributing a penny to help raise his child and never once contacting either one of you is a good enough reason to avoid sex.”
Harper frowned.
“If he’s the reason I’m avoiding it, maybe it’s time to reconsider,” she murmured, half to herself. At Andi’s whoop of delight, she shook her head and rushed to add, “I said reconsider. Not run out and have tons of wild, sweaty sex. Just, you know, maybe consider keeping a guy around for a third date.”
“That’s the only opening I need,” Andi all but sang. As she patted Harper’s hand in support, she asked, “So, what’s your preference? Dark hair or light? Working class or businessman? Butt or biceps?”
“Butt or biceps?”
“Yeah, which is your trigger? I’m going to find you the perfect man,” Andi vowed with the fervency of an evangelical minister on cable television.
Harper was rescued from having to decide by the back door swinging open. In swirled her very own seven-year-old tornado.
Her heart melted just a little at the sight of her son dancing into the room. His elegant features were alive with delight, smudges of dirt on his chin and cheek and his hair, the same burnished gold as her own, tumbling over his brow.
“Mom, guess what. Louie Dryden’s cat had kittens. Five of them. She had ’em on his bed, too. He got pictures on his iPhone and it was, like, so gross.” He stopped talking long enough to drop his prized baseball onto the counter next to the bowl of apples.
He threw his arms around his mother for a quick hug, grabbing his ball again before remembering to offer the same to the other woman. “Hey, Andi. Do you want a kitten? Now that all the gross is off them, they’re really cute. Tiny, with lots of black hair. Kinda like you.”
“Aren’t you the charmer?” Laughing, Andi squeezed him tight before ruffling Nathan’s hair. “And what am I supposed to do with a kitten?”
“Love it, of course,” Nathan said in the same tone he’d use to remind her the sky was blue. “You’d have to take care of it and give it food and stuff, like Mom does me. You pet it a lot and maybe let it sleep on your pillow next to you. Then you’ll have something to play with, and you won’t get lonely.”
He turned guileless brown eyes on his mother, his wide smile all the more enchanting for its missing teeth.
“If Andi gets one, you should, too, Mom. It could keep you company if I went to summer camp.”
The pitch for a kitten had been going for several weeks now, with Harper standing firm on her no. But camp was new. Ever since he’d found out a few days ago that his best pal, Jeremy, was going, Nathan had been begging to attend. But it was two weeks away, on an island, with strangers. Three strikes, no camp.
“Nice try,” Harper murmured, shaking her head both at his ploy and at her quite possibly overprotective concerns. “Dinner is in a little less than an hour. Why don’t you go play until then?”
She knew his face as well as she did her own—better, actually. So Harper could easily read the struggle in his eyes as he fought the urge to push.
Then he shrugged.
“I’m seriously starving. Can I have something to eat before dinner?”
“An apple.”
“Thanks.” Nathan grabbed the apple and his baseball, then headed out of the kitchen. At the arched doorway, he glanced back. “Do you think kittens like stories? I bet I’d get a lot of extra reading done if I had to read to a kitten every day.”
Harper smiled as she got the glass pitcher down to mix the juices into Nathan’s favorite.
“He’s only seven, and he already knows when to push and when he’ll get more by simply walking away,” Andi murmured with an appreciative shake of her head.
“The rest of the time, he uses charm, guile and a golden tongue,” Harper agreed. In that respect he was so like Brandon.
Andi waited until they heard his footsteps fade up the stairs before giving Harper an arch look.
“How long do you think you’ll hold out against getting him the kitten?” Andi asked.
“Hopefully another year.” Harper blew out a breath. “If not that, then I’d like to at least get through this Little League season before he takes on that big of a responsibility.”
That she’d give in was a given. But she figured as long as Nathan didn’t realize that, the power balance was exactly where it should be.
“And camp? Why don’t you want him going?”
“The longest he’s been away from home is a sleepover. This is two weeks. And it’s not like it’s space camp or baseball camp, which I could understand, given his obsession with those. This is adventure camp. Rafting and climbing and sleeping outdoors.” Harper gave a mock shudder. “All of that aside, I can’t afford it.”
There. That sounded perfectly reasonable.
“He’d have fun. And wouldn’t it do him good to explore other interests?” Andi gave her a look that said she saw right through all that reasoning. “You always say you want to give Nathan as many opportunities as you can. This is an opportunity.”
“So is circus school. But that doesn’t mean I’ll be signing him up for trapeze lessons.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re in tiger mode.” At Harper’s blank look, Andi curled her fingers into claws on either side of her chin. “You’re like a momma tiger protecting her cub from danger.”
Before Harper could ask what was wrong with that, Andi straightened one hand to wag her finger in the air.
“Except this isn’t danger. It’s camp. Singing around the campfire and learning to tie knots. It’s swimming and tire swings and hikes. It’d be a great learning experience. After all, education isn’t found only in the classroom.”
“What’d you do, swallow their brochure?” Harper muttered, her words lost in the refrigerator as she pulled out berries for dessert. But Andi still heard.
“I served on a board for underprivileged kids a couple of years ago. We had to provide a study of the benefits of programs like this in order to get funding. It really does make a difference for some kids. The independence, the skills and the friendships can be priceless.”
Harper’s scowl was hot enough to rot the glossy strawberries, but she couldn’t argue any of those points.
“Besides, if you don’t start letting go, you’re going to end up with a wimpy momma’s boy.” She paused for effect before adding, “Like Matt. You know, the man who wanted to bring his mother along on our vacations, whose mother still bought his underwear and who after being kicked to the curb for cheating, moved home with Mommy, who now makes him breakfast every day.”
Cute at seven, iffy at seventeen. And at thirty-two it was definitely pathetic. Even as they shared a grimace, Harper knew she’d be poking through her bank account later to see if she could juggle the registration costs. Not that she was totally convinced. But she was teetering.
“I’ll cover the fee,” Andi offered, giving her that last push over the edge. “Call it my contribution to loosening your inhibitions.”
“What does one have to do with the other?”
“If Nathan’s safely away at camp, you can do more than reconsider having sex. You can have it.”
And that was supposed to convince her?
The doorbell chimed before Harper could do more than shake her head in dismay.
“I’ll get that—you start reconsidering. When I get back, we’ll find that perfect third-date guy.”
“I’d put money on Nathan getting a kitten sooner than that happening,” she murmured as Andi swept from the room.
“I heard that,” the other woman sang out, her words echoing down the hall.
Harper’s frown intensified. All of this dating and sex talk was stupid. All it did was stir up thoughts of Brandon, bad memories and hurt feelings. And like anything to do with Brandon Ramsey, the second one thought occurred, a million followed. He was the poster boy for taking a mile when an inch was all she’d offered.
No more, she ordered herself. He wasn’t a part of her now, and her past was over.
“Registered letter for one Mr. Nathan Ramsey, care of Harper Maclean,” Andi said, coming back waving a large envelope. “Who’d get his name wrong?”
The bowl of cleaned berries suddenly shaking in her hands, Harper set it on the bar with care and stared. Her chest hurt. She couldn’t think for the buzzing in her ears.
Ramsey.
Harper’s heart raced so fast, it tripped over itself. How was that possible? Why whould Brandon contact Nathan? As far as he knew, she’d followed his instructions to end the pregnancy. How did he know she’d had the baby? How did he know Nathan’s name? Had he always known?
The air locked in Harper’s chest, vicious and tight, cutting off her breath, sending shards of pain knifing through her.
Why was he contacting her? Contacting Nathan? Was he going to try to get custody?
Or had his parents gotten wind of unaccounted Ramsey DNA and tracked down their heir apparent?
Harper looked toward the stairs with a desperate gaze. She should get Nathan. They should go. Now.
As soon as she thought that, Harper squared her shoulders.
To hell with that. Nathan was her son. This was her home. She’d be damned if Brandon or his rich parents were going to screw with either.
Still, her hand trembled so much as she took the letter that she dropped it onto the marble countertop as if it were on fire.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Andi poked at the letter with one perfectly manicured nail. “It’s from a Dane Adams, US Navy, registered mail. It’s gotta be important.”
Dane Adams? The Navy?
Relief poured through her so fast, so strong, that her legs almost gave out. Irritation followed fast, because it was still all about Brandon. So Harper eyed the envelope with intense distaste.
“Harper,” Andi moaned. “You’re killing me. Open. Open. Open.”
Knowing Andi would keep it up until she did, she huffed out a hot breath. Sliding her thumbnail under the flap, Harper reluctantly tugged the paper out.
She noted the official-looking insignia and the fancy lettering denoting it to be from Admiral H. M. Cree, Special Ops commander.
Her brow creased as she read.
The room narrowed, and all the air disappeared. The words spun into a swirling blur of black on white. She needed to sit down. But she managed only a single step before her legs gave out and she sank to the floor, the letter clutched in her hands.
“What is it?” Instead of pulling her back up, Andi dropped down next to her, gathering Harper into her arms. She tried to read the paper, but Harper couldn’t let it go. “Sweetie, what does it say?”
“He’s dead,” Harper murmured, her voice sounding as if it were coming from the other end of a long tunnel. “Brandon is dead.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_9172d393-71a3-50d7-86e3-93dcb8b0e7f2)
MOURNING THE LOSS of a brother was never easy.
SEALs, support personnel and civilians gathered in the backroom at Olive Oyl’s bar to toast the memory of a warrior and to share their grief. Lieutenant Brandon Ramsey was memorialized with words like honor and skill and dedication. Captain Jarrett had choked giving his toast, and a visibly grieving Petty Officer Dane Adams had to be led out after delivering a eulogy so heartfelt that it was hard to hear over the audience’s sobs.
But when it came time for the men who’d served on that ill-fated mission, the core team, to say goodbye to their brother, they kept it private and took it off the beaten path. Savino chose a bar in Lemon Grove, far enough from base for them to mourn freely. The place was just a few steps up from a dive, and seedy enough that nobody would feel constrained by good behavior.
“Kinda crap that they won’t offer a military funeral for the guy. Decorated SEAL and all that, he’d have liked the fancy send-off.”
“Bet he’d like being alive even more.”
“Shame that none of his family showed. Not even his kid.”
“Sometimes civilians can’t handle it.”
“Dude isn’t officially declared dead—chances are they’re holding on to hope.”
“No point. Even if they didn’t find enough of him to declare him dead, he’s gone. Still, the Navy’ll tie it up in red tape, drag it out as long as they can to avoid paying survivor benefits.”
“I hear he had an in to DEVGRU. Guy went down before he got a chance to snag an elite spot.”
“Poseidon is the real elite.”
“He didn’t get a shot at that, either.”
