Page 126 of True North

Eliminating the distance between us, I brush a hand over his jaw. “Yes, you do. You do need me. And I need you right back. So, we’re fencin’. Iain’taskin’.”

His face crumples, but he schools it back. His hand takes mine from his face, and he puts space between us and paces by the bench. It’s all I can do to watch him stew.

He stops and lifts the pliers from the bench. I follow the movement with the memory of the last time he held those stuck in my mind.

“You should have told me, Louisa May.”

I snap my gaze from the tool in his hand to his eyes. “No, I shouldn’t have.”

“Why not? Hey?” His voice is rough, anger and torment twisting the tension in it until it warps. When I hesitate, he paces again. Lifting the hat from his head, he runs a hand through his hair.

“It wasn’t my secret to tell, Harry,” I say softly.

He spins toward me, fire in his eyes. “What the actual hell, Louisa!” he roars.

I flinch.

Harry’s never raised his voice at me. He curses, sure. Loses his temper occasionally at some unsuspecting fence. But never before has his anger been directed at me.

The bridge of my nose prickles, tears burning the back of my eyes.

Ugh, not now.

I push a little taller and take a determined step toward where he seethes.

“You talk to me like thatever again, Harrison Rawlins, and they’ll be the last words you ever say to me.” Fire courses through my veins, tears burning still. I am his equal. His captain, if Rosie gets her way. This isnothappening.

So, I say everything I’ve wanted to since the day Rosie defended me in their old living room when Eddy went rampant.

“He was hurting you, Harry. Hurting you both. Your mother did what she could to keep you safe. To keep us safe. She sacrificed everything so you would have what you want. She did this foryou!”

He starts to shake.

His jaw slackens before he gasps on a breath he can’t seem to capture.

Oh god.

His hands curl to fists before he turns away, closing in on the workbench. Both fists land with a bang. The heartbreaking groan that follows has the tears I’ve been fighting back spill over.

“Har—” I hold out a hand.

Wanting so badly to touch him. To take away the pain that the man who should have loved and protected his only son gave him in spades.

“She couldn’t let him hurt you anymore,” I whisper at his back.

He turns, so slowly. Silver lines his eyes.

“I know that!” The words are a mangled mess of tortured emotions. “You think I don’t know what he was capable of?”

His chest heaves. He rips the hat from his head, and it falls to the ground as he rakes both hands through his hair. “It should have been me! I should have knocked the old bastard off years ago. Hell, the whole town knew he was one drink away from a fatal accident. It wouldn’t have even been hard. Instead, my frail goddamn mother who wouldn’t hurt a fly had to do it. Because I couldn’t.”

A broken sob falls from my lips, and I press them together to stem the flow. Reaching for him with a shaking hand, I take a step.

He shakes his head and falters sideways.

“No, Lou. I wasn’t man enough to do what had to be done to protect the both of us. Now, Ma’s died with it on her fuckin’ conscience.”

My own body burns, each breath so choppy my chest aches. As if Harry’s pain radiates through me.

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