Anchored Read online

  “Sky, if Adam didn’t mention it, don’t go out alone unless you take bear spray.” He steps over to a cabinet and pulls out a small canister. “We’ve had a few sightings, so make sure to take this with you.”

  I feel my heart drop but attempt a smile that feels crooked and weak. “Bear spray,” I repeat. “Gotcha.”

  Adam looks a little too satisfied with Nick’s dismissal. I feel my cheeks burn with embarrassment. I understand Nick’s anger, but I have done nothing to Adam, except take advantage of his brother. At times, being without siblings has its clear advantages, but I also don’t have anyone who would defend me like Adam is standing up for Nick. I’m alone, and Nick has an army of five at his back.

  Before either one of them can educate me any further on bear spray, tick removal, or how unwelcomed I am in this place, I retreat to the safety of blankets and darkness in Nick’s bedroom.

  Chapter 4

  Nick

  “Did you have to be an asshole?”

  “I did.” Adam is unapologetic. “What possessed you to bring her here?”

  I lost my shit when I saw her naked with another man. “I need to talk to her.”

  “There is a variety of technology for that. You didn’t need to haul her out of state and camp her at your home.”

  “I wasn’t thinking,” I mutter. The farther away from home we got, the more screwed up my head became. I was mashed somewhere between pissed off and elated. I was piss-lated.

  It wasn’t good.

  I haven’t been sleeping. I wanted to fight. I wanted to crawl into bed with her, tie her up, and torture every inch of her body until she confessed everything. I wanted to feel her soft skin and inhale her sweet scent. I wanted to taste her flesh.

  A sharp smack connects with the back of my head. “Whatever you’re thinking, knock it off. You’re drooling.”

  “I’m not saying it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.” There is nothing I can say that will satisfy my oldest brother. Nothing ever does.

  “At least you admit your idea was complete shit,” he grumbles. “Whatever,” Adam says as he grabs his coat and pulls on his thick wool hat. “The important thing is you’re home now. I hope Skyler doesn’t distract you too much. We are behind schedule on the park rebuild. The dedication ceremony is in six weeks. Not to mention, there are snowstorms building, which will put us behind schedule even more. If you had been here, we wouldn’t be in a bind.” Adam looks out the window. My oldest brother looks so much like our father, it’s eerie. All of us possess the Harris genes, but Adam’s voice echoes Dad. Listening to Adam is a painful reminder that I will never hear my father say my name again.

  “Do you have enough to make it through this storm?” His inquiry falls short of I know you don’t.

  “I think so . . .” I look around the kitchen and take a mental inventory. “Actually, no.” I haven’t been here in months. We need food and basic toiletries. “I’ll stop in at Huffaker’s.”

  “Do it now.” Adam walks toward the front door. “The snow is coming, and you know it waits for no one,” he says over his shoulder. Adam straddles his ATV parked on the lawn. One of the best things about all of us living on a shared plot of land is we’re all just a quick ATV, snowmobile, or horse ride away. Sixty acres for six brothers. Countless toys and the open wilderness. Not much else is better.

  “Yup,” I reply. “I’ll get what we need.”

  Adam scans the exterior of my home, then me, his mouth pursed as if he wants to say something. He restrains himself from another lecture and turns the key. “Keep in touch, Nico.”

  I nod, and my brother is gone.

  The more I look around the house, the more I realize we need a large order from the store. Plus if we get out now, I can show Sky around Rockland before dark.

  I knock twice on my bedroom door and turn the knob. I’m not waiting for her to grant my entrance. This is my home, and I’ve already seen her naked. She has nothing to hide.

  “Skyler, I’m going to the store. Do you want to come with me?”

  “Do they have clothing at the store?” she asks, her words muffled by the sheets.

  I laugh, knowing that she’s not going to like the selection. “Only run-of-the-mill stuff. You’ll be disappointed in the selection, I’m sure.”

  She throws the covers off and hops out of bed. “Great. Do they at least have chocolate and some decent tea?” she asks.

  “They have all of those things, angel. Whatever you want, we’ll get. There is some nasty weather brewing. We need to be prepared.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “We might be snowed in for a couple of days.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Alone?”

  I shrug. “Bears.” I point out the window. “And my brothers are around here too.”

  She bites her lip and shakes her head. The room fills with an awkward silence.

  My pocket buzzes with a text message, jarring me away from the worry that she might grab a taxi back to Boston. “Get your shoes on. We’ll leave in five,” I say on my way down the hall.

  I don’t need to take the message out of my lock screen. Adam has decided to bestow one last nugget of wisdom.

  We don’t need problems. Get condoms.

  Chapter 5

  Skyler

  “So where have you been?”

  He didn’t even wait until we pulled out of the driveway.

  “I was staying with my cousin, Amanda. She lives in Newburyport.” I feel the itchy need to move and give my nervous energy some space. I cannot have this discussion strapped in a car. Part of me feels like this conversation cannot happen at all.

  “Did she need you there?”

  I was able to work with the team that Amanda had when she had her surgery four years ago. “We had some family matters that required our attention.”

  “You didn’t have a phone?”

  “I did.” His presumption irritates me. I didn’t call him, no. But despite what he might think, phones receive calls as well. None of the calls I received came from him.

  “Why were you gone for so long?”

  “Nick.” I drop my head to my hands, tucked securely in a pair of thick wool mittens. “Do we have to do this right now? We haven’t seen each other in so long. Do we have to play twenty questions immediately?”

  The muscle in his jaw ticks as his beefy hands curl a little tighter around the steering wheel. “I feel like you’re hiding something from me.”

  A sharp blade of guilt pierces the hollow of my throat and presses down, deep into my chest. “I’m sorry for that.”

  “Or are you sorry for someone?” he questions, his voice low and menacing.

  Hiding a lover would be so much easier than this. Private getaways and secret rendezvous would actually be fun, but there have never been any takers in that department, not even Nick. “No,” I mumble, looking out at the dark-green trees lining the road.

  “But there is something,” he says, irritation pushing through his teeth.

  Over the years, Nick’s frustration has been manageable simply because we had a rhythm. He pushed, I’d push back. His reply would always be a menacing grumble that I could squelch with a quick snap. It has been a little over a year since we practiced that dance, and I do not have the desire to put him in his place. The mangled knot of emotion he’s pulling me through right now is understandable. I simply do not have the energy to spew everything right now. All of this—us, being away, being here—is not that easy.

  He pulls into a parking lot a few miles down the road. It is a massive building with a sign: Huffaker’s General Store. Nick throws the truck in park with a heavy jerk in a parking spot and leans on the steering wheel. His stare holds me in place as I anticipate his next move and absorb his rugged beauty. Depending on the day, Nick’s mossy hazel eyes might look slightly brown; on other days, flecks of blue and gold shine. Regardless of the color, his gaze is laser focused, determined, and intense.


  The memory of his captivating presence has been on a constant loop since I left. At doctor’s appointments, I would pretend he was sitting in the empty seat next to me. In the hospital, I imagined he took up residence in the wide chair that converted to a reclining bed. During treatments, I imagined he would keep me company, grousing about having to watch mindless daytime television, but then slowly he would enjoy the talk show hosts’ banter and laugh at their goofiness.

  It was all lies, a fantasy. A way to call on someone I couldn’t have but needed so desperately.

  My silence fuels his angst even more as his eyes narrow. I know he needs an answer. He deserves the truth. The selfish parts of me absorb his stare. Even tinged with impatience, it is better than I imagined.

  “We can talk, but just not right now.” I gesture to the store. “Can we do this and get back to your house? I would prefer some privacy.”

  His mouth presses to a hard line before his gaze flicks to the store. “Sure,” he bites out, cutting the ignition. He opens his door and slides out. “Wait for me,” he says before slamming the heavy door.

  “Only if you wait for me,” I whisper as he moves around the front of the truck to my side and opens the door. He offers his ungloved hand to help me get out. I loved the massive mittens he gave me until they became blocks of fluff robbing me of the opportunity to feel Nick’s warm skin.

  “Just about everything we need is here. I’ll let you explore on your own while I grab some groceries. If you need anything they don’t have, let me know and we’ll figure it out.” Nick extracts a basket from the bin by the front door. “Ladies’ clothing is to the left. I’ll find you.”

  He pushes through the door without another word, pointing in the direction of the women’s section and giving me quick nod just as someone from deep in the store calls, “Nico!”

  I watch Nick respond to the name, moving quickly in the opposite direction. Alone, I scan the aisles and feel an overwhelming rush of anxiety. Huffaker’s General Store is a feast for the eyes, tightly packed with essentials for outdoorsmen and women. The scent of roasted peanuts infuses the air. As I move closer toward the small food counter lining the interior wall, freshly popped popcorn enters the mix. Deep in the back of the store, near the exit, the pungent smells of birdseed and kerosene saturate everything. A section of the ceiling is dedicated to trucker hats from all over the world. A few sets of antlers poke out from the wall. The magazine section holds several hunting, fishing, and archery publications. There is a magazine dedicated to butchering. The closest thing to a gossip magazine is a rag trying to prove a celebrity birthed an alien baby.

  I think I’m the only alien birthed into this strange land. I snicker, turning down the personal care aisle. I scour the boxes of hair dye, none of the colors coming close to my signature red. When Blake agreed to meet me, I found a product that would pass as good enough. I could cover my roots and give some life to the strands I had neglected for so long. I grab a shampoo and conditioner that claims to help color stay vibrant, but I know that my quick dye job will fade soon enough and my roots will pop. My heart aches when I visualize what horrors could await my head. Maybe Nick will know someone who can dye my hair, even if it’s going back to my natural blond.

  Tears well in my eyes at the thought, and the idea is dismissed as quickly as it came on. I am a red skunk with a yellow stripe until I can be a cherry bomb. Wonder Woman has her bracelets; I have my hair. It might look awful, but there are some things I just cannot do. Back to blond. I shudder, the thought like nails on a chalkboard, and turn down the next aisle: women’s clothing.

  True to Nick’s word, there is nothing adorable here. It’s run-of-the-mill. All cotton. Thick white cotton. Nothing that would entice a man to say anything other than, Well, when you are done with those, we can use them to make a new sail for the fishing boat. The kicker is, Nick is not an angler. He’s a hunter. A beast. A wild, teeth-gnashing animal that I can tame with lace.

  I sigh, Ahoy, matey, and toss a lump of cotton underwear that looks itchy in the basket. I chastise myself for even thinking about fancy undies given this situation. He took me from my home, hasn’t issued more than a few kind words, and has been demanding—like that would ever change—and his family is obviously not happy with my presence. I don’t think lace would distract him from all of that or from my scars. Not just one. Not some little line.

  Two heavy pink lines of bubbly scar tissues holding silicone implants inside my body. When I’m wearing clothing, you would need to be a connoisseur of my original breasts to tell the difference. I’m the same size as before the mastectomy, and now my normally soft breasts are perfectly symmetrical. Given his infatuation with my body, my breasts, I’m shocked he hasn’t been able to see the difference. I’m also relieved.

  He’s going to hate them.

  Nicholas William Harris likes things natural. He prefers the soft, supple give of a woman’s body. When we scened and I felt self-conscious, he could sense it. Nick would drench my hips and stomach with attention, entranced by the give of my flesh under his hand. He always loved the curve of my rear end, even if it puckered in more than one place.

  The plush dimples are gone, at least for now anyway, and I’m scarred. My belly lacks the few extra pounds it always held and now possesses three scars from the laparoscopy. My entire body has been modified from its original parts. The places that were once soft and life-giving are now vacant and artificial. I’m scared he’s going to hate it. How do I leave here and live my life knowing there is no possibility of us because he can’t stand what I have become?

  Skyler, you just need to accept that men are going to look at you differently. Ricky couldn’t handle any of it. Sometimes it is better to be alone. You can live a productive life without someone who won’t love you for who you are.

  I’m sure my cousin meant to be empowering, but she failed miserably. All she did was shake my confidence in Nick. I started this journey knowing he would be okay. I made the mistake of confessing my feelings for Nick and my worry about his acceptance to her. Amanda countered every faith I had in him with Ricky’s bad behavior. I was disconnected from Nick for so long, I started to ease the pain of his absence with the acceptance that I might always carry a heavy hole in my heart for Nicholas William Harris.

  If he can’t handle it, then he’s not the man for you.

  I stopped trying to explain that I thought Nick was the man for me. She was so adamant, so hurt by her ex-husband, that she couldn’t accept that one man is not all men. I stopped trying to convince her. I relied on the memories of his body against mine and my little lies about his love for me. All of it could have been a lie.

  My memories of the awkward life we shared could have been a vibrant fabrication, but then he ripped me from the space we called home. He demanded answers but accepted my limit. Nick sent me on a shopping spree to purchase the world’s worst underwear in the middle of Rockland, Maine. I inhale, and a shimmer of hope, or maybe insanity, settles in my chest. He could have walked away from me yesterday, but he didn’t. I am here because of him, so I need to trust that.

  I drop a package of socks in the basket, the bundle falling with a thud next to Huffaker’s signature iron underwear line. After adding two equally uninspiring bras, I look around for women’s sporting equipment. If I’m going to be here, I need to keep up on training. I started running again once the doctor cleared me. I needed the space and time to free my mind. I haven’t run a 5K in years, but I found one in Boston in three months. I don’t want to lose any progress I made. Plus it’s a pick-your-own-charity run. The runner chooses their organization to support. All donations are online and automatically distributed at the close of the race. I’ve run in honor of my mother, grandmother, and aunt for years. I’m running this race for me and all the survivors like me who beat cancer.

  My search for sneakers is over before it starts. Steel-toed boots won’t help me run a race. I turn down a row of shelves, hoping to find more shoes, but all I find are c
rab traps and Nick in the middle of a very loud, very manly conversation. He’s leaning against a fifties-style counter, a mug of coffee and a slice of pie in front of him. Three older men stand around him, talking, laughing, and patting backs. And Nick is right there with them.

  His eyes crinkle at the side as he smiles. He nods, gripping the shoulder of one of the men before contributing to the conversation, making the entire group erupt in laughter. I blink, unsure if I’m actually witnessing this event. Nick has had moments of levity around me, when he’s been free enough to laugh or let loose, but I’ve never seen this. This is an easy, almost carefree version of Nicholas William Harris.

  My belly simmers with a familiar warmth. Nick, even when he’s grumbly or grouchy, has always made my knees weak. I’ve felt his care and compassion in tiny increments. Now, with his brilliant smile and obvious camaraderie, he is unnervingly irresistible.

  He pauses, his head turning to me. “Oh, hey guys, I’d like you to meet someone.” He lifts his arm, curling his fingers to bring me closer. “This is Skyler. She’s one of my friends from Boston.”

  Expectant, bright smiles beam in my direction. They shift, making room for me inside their circle. I am introduced to each of them, a warm, rough hand extended in greeting. Despite the warm welcome, I feel frozen to the core. I’m a friend.

  “Will you be staying for the park dedication, Skyler?” George asks, snapping me from a vision of Nick practicing shibari on his friend Caleb Dunn.

  “Oh, I didn’t know anything about the event.” I look at Nick. “We’ve not been in touch for a while, so I must have missed that text.”

  The men, who could easily pass for one or both of our fathers, watch us stare each other down before the man who introduced himself as George starts offering details.

  “Nico convinced his brother, and our mayor, Ben, to clean up Center Park as a way to support the community. We have a nice amount of tourist traffic, but we also have a bumper crop of young families. The Harris boys took the project on themselves. They have financed and built the entire restructuring. The park is going to reopen in about six weeks, assuming these snowstorms don’t take too many days away from the installation.” George pauses to take a sip of coffee. “Nico has done so much for the project. It would be great for you to see it.” The other men chime in, offering their enthused support of Nick, who has been instrumental in developing the plans.