“Sixteen. Six months after I moved in with the Kingstons.”
“What did your father do about it?”
“Nothing.”
I blanch. I couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”
“He was out of the country and it didn’t matter. He wanted me to goad Isaac. He wanted me to push his buttons.”
“How did you push his buttons that day?”
“A girl and a test that went my way, not his. Basically, by breathing in his space.”
“What did you do about the attack?”
“Nothing. I did nothing.”
“Why?”
“Because my mother told me that control meant never letting anyone else force me to do anything. And so I never have.” He sets his bowl down. “And I’m not going to start now. Why am I telling you all of this? I don’t just want you to know me, Harper. I want you to understand me.”
“You didn’t call your father after the attack in the alleyway because you won’t let him control what comes next.”
“Exactly—like father, like son, referring to Isaac and my father. When you don’t let them goad you, they become driven to get to you, and usually in a careless way.”
“So the plan to come here and give them space still might work?”
“I doubt that,” he says, “but that’s why I need you to understand that I choose my actions based on who I’m dealing with.”
His anger when I asked about his father earlier, comes back to me. “I didn’t mean to question your character.”
“I didn’t think you did, but I need you to know that I don’t choose my actions rashly or emotionally, or I’d have already done so a long time ago. That’s what I’m telling you. Whatever I do next is necessary. It’s about you and me surviving. Not them. They don’t get to survive. Not this time.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Eric
Harper and I sit there on the oversized chair in my bedroom, bowls of mac n cheese in our hands, with my declaration about doing whatever it takes to ensure we survive what has become a Kingston war, in the air. I wait, expecting her to push back. She sets her bowl down and I do the same and then she grabs my arm and stares at the scar on my arm.
Her gaze lifts to mine. “Anyone who can do this to another human being can kill.”
“Yes. They can.”
She runs her thumb over a portion of the scar. “They want to end us. You’re right. We have to end them.”
I arch a brow. “We?”
“Yes. We. I don’t want you to kill your father, but I meant what I said when we were with Blake. I’m ready to fight.”
But she won’t have to fight. I’m going to do it for her. I motion to her food. “Eat, princess. Because this tough talk you’re doing tonight is making me want you naked and in my bed.” I lift my fork. “I like this side of you.”
She gives me a small smile and we both take a bite, both turning to the window again to eat in silence. A comfortable silence that I don’t remember sharing with anyone but Grayson and my mother. There are no numbers in my head. Right now, there isn’t a Kingston in my head. There’s just this moment. This woman.
“I was never against fighting back,” she says as we both set our bowls aside. “I came to you,” she adds, “because I wanted to fight back. I just—I didn’t realize how bad things were or how bad they were going to get. I should have gotten my mother out of there a long time ago.”
Which brings us to a topic I’d planned to talk to her about. “You can’t make your mother’s decisions for her. You have to get to a place where you know that no matter what you do, you can lead a horse to water, but you can’t make them drink. We can give her an exit strategy, Harper, but she’s a grown woman. If she ignores us—”
“I know,” she says. “I know. I could tell her they tried to kill me, but I don’t think she’ll believe me.”