Etching Our Way (Broken Tracks 1)

“Harmony?” I look up in despair at the familiar voice, but my eyes flit back down to the ground, not wanting him to see me like this. “Harmony, sweetheart...” He kneels beside me and pulls me into his chest. “What happened?”

“Why are you here?” I bite out.

“Trist—”

“Don’t mention his name!” I shriek, halfway through a sob.

“Alright, Harm,” he murmurs, rocking me back and forth for a minute before scooping me up into his arms.

I fist his suit jacket in my hands. “Why has he done this to me?”

He places me in the back seat of his car. “Let’s get you home. I’m sure things will be okay tomorrow.”

“I was hot,” I repeat with less force, not believing my own words so I know that he won’t either.

We reach the tunnel and he clears his throat. “Where to?”

“Oh, Mom’s house,” I answer him, looking out of the window.

“Your mom’s?” he asks, although I can hear the silent question behind it.

“It’s temporary,” I state.

He nods once, not asking the questions I know that he wants to.

We spend the rest of the journey in silence until he pulls up to the house and jumps out of the car, running around and opening my door—like he used to.

“Thank you,” I say, smiling up at him.

He dips his head. “You’re very welcome. I… It’s not my place to say, but… he could really use a friend.”

I wince. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”

“Of course not,” he waves his hand. “Forget I said anything.” He picks up my hand and places a soft kiss on the top of my knuckles. “Take care, Harmony.”

As soon as I’ve slid into my car, I close my eyes, leaning my head back on the headrest and taking a deep breath. When I woke up this morning, I never would have guessed what was going to happen today.

I never thought I’d see Harmony ever again, let alone today. For the first month after I left her, I had Edward check on her every morning. Then for a couple of years after, I kept tabs on her, having regular updates.

But when Clay was born, I decided I had to stop living in the past, to be in the here and now and concentrate on my family. I stopped getting people to check up on her, needing to forget about that part of my past.

It wasn’t until she graduated that I found out that she was moving away, but as soon as Edward muttered the words, “Harmony” and “moving,” I shot him down, not trusting myself to think about her when I was trying to make things work at home.

Things were good between Natalia and me at that stage in our lives; we had a family and were determined to be the parents that our own weren’t. To be there for our children: to attend everything we needed to, to read to them each night before tucking them into bed and giving them a kiss on the top of their head, letting them know that they’re loved more than anything in the world.

I was handed the company not long after Clay was born, and although I knew it was going to be hard to earn everyone’s trust after what my father did, I was determined. With Natalia by my side, I knew that I could do it.

Then Izzie was born and we lost her. With that, I was suddenly thrust into being a single parent, something that I never for a million years thought would happen.

I spiraled and lost complete control over my life; living day to day, not caring about anything or anyone but the kids.

With everything that was going on and feeling like I was alone, I reached out to Edward and asked him to check on Harmony again. The thought of seeing her face after all this time was the only thing that grounded me at that time.

My head told me to leave it well enough alone, to let her get on with her life, but my heart was begging me to go to her, to ask for her forgiveness and to go back in time.

But one look down at Clay’s three-year-old face and a look at Izzie’s eyes—the same blue as Natalia’s—had me snapping back to the man that I had become. The one who was trying to protect Harmony and be the father that mine wasn’t.

When Edward came back with that envelope full of information, I knew that I couldn’t open it, but that didn’t mean that I threw it away. It still sits in the locked, bottom drawer of my desk to this day.