Hard Truth: Hard to Love Series, #2

By Emily Goodwin

The first time I met Alexander Harding, I yelled at him for taking my parking spot. Rich and powerful, I saw him as nothing more than my new coldhearted boss. I hated him once but now…now things aren't that simple. There's a man beneath the beast, and the more I get to know him, the more I fall in love with him.

Though just as I'm able to envision a future together, the past comes back to haunt us both.

Six years ago, my life changed forever when I found out I was pregnant. The last thing I expected was to see Michael Cooper again, but now he's here and is ready to make up for lost time. He wants to be involved in his daughters' life. My life. And it's making me question everything.

I never thought it was possible to be in love with two men at the same time. One from my past, and one I want in my future. My heart is completely torn in two, with each half going in a different direction. I'd give them each half if I could.

But then I would be left with nothing.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Emily Goodwin
• Release date: Mar 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393522171

Book preview

1

Michael

Then…

L ast night of freedom, boys! Ben puts the Jeep in park and kills the engine. He twists in his seat. Ready to get fucked up?

"I’m going to get me some puss-say." Tanner unbuckles his seatbelt and holds his hands out in front of him, acting as if he’s gripping onto some invisible chick’s waist as she bounces up and down on his lap.

Allison snatches the keys out of Ben’s hand and rolls her eyes. Why did I agree to be your DD again?

Because you love us. Ben turns to his sister. And because you know there’s a good chance that we could—

Don’t even say it. Allison’s hazel eyes flash. If you do, I’m taking you all home.

Don’t be a buzzkill already, I tell her and undo my own seatbelt. We’re not even drunk yet.

She lets out a sigh and waves her hand in the air. Go forth, get drunk, and have sex, she tells the three of us. I’m going to run to the bookstore before they close and then I’ll be back to pick your drunk asses up.

You’re such a loser, Ben huffs and gets out of the car, leading the way to the frat house. His older brother goes here and uses our upcoming deployment as more or less of a reason to throw this big party. Though with parties happening every weekend here, I don’t think they need a reason.

It’s unseasonably warm for this time of the year in Chicago, and the air is warm and sticky. The house is already alive with the sounds—and smells—of a college party. I don’t really consider myself a partier, though the last few years have made it hard to consider anything.

It’s hard enough to be who I am when darkness surrounds me.

When it’s pulling me below the surface.

Making me question everything I’ve ever known.

Stepping over a couple who’s tangled up together on the porch steps, alternating between making out and taking hits from the same joint, we make it into the house.

The lights are dimmed, the music is loud, and the scents of beer and barf fill the air. This is how Friday nights are supposed to be when you’re twenty years old.

Not holed up in your room, drinking alone.

Ben! Jason exclaims when he sees us. He pushes through the crowd and gives his brother a one-armed hug. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Jason, and it’s strange, really. I used to see him all the time. He pats Ben on the back and looks at me. The moment our eyes meet, his get a little misty. My heart aches, feeling like it’s going to collapse in on itself all over again.

This is for Matt, he says and holds up the red plastic cup in his hands. And he’d want you to get fucked up! Upon hearing someone yell get fucked up the people around us cheer. You need drinks, Jason tells us, and motions for Ben, Tanner, and me to follow. I look around, and the heat and noise of the crowd starts to feel suffocating already.

I need to get my shit together. If I can’t make it through one party, how the hell am I supposed to make it out in the desert? It’s different out there, though.

There I have a purpose. A reason. Motivation to keep going. Just like Matt did. I take the cup Jason thrusts at me and take a big drink, thinking of my brother. He would want me to get fucked up. To live it up tonight. To drink until I puke and wake up next to at least one chick whose name I can’t remember.

It’s what he would have done. He lived his life boldly, loud in all aspects. He was so vibrant, so full of life. So alive.

Until he wasn’t.

Let’s go find us some tail. Tanner sucks down the last of his beer and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand before burping. Ben and I laugh, and a few girls walking by scoff.

Maybe wait until they’ve caught up with you, Ben says, looking at the empty cup in Tanner’s hand. Or slow your roll.

Fuck slowing anything, Tanner says and goes to the keg to refill his cup. We’re leaving tomorrow to fight in a fucking war. I’m going to drink and fuck and party as much as I want!

Give him an hour and he’ll be passed out, I mumble to Ben, who laughs and nods.

It’s nice to have you out with me again. Ben claps my back. We’ve been friends since elementary school when we bonded in solidarity over how much we hated having to get up early, being dragged to our older brothers’ football practice in the summer.

Jason and Matt became friends right around the time Ben and I did. It was perfect. Ben and I ganged up and pestered the shit out of our brothers. And Jason and Matt had two little shits to mess with. We were only two years apart—which is a lot when you’re in middle school—but the four of us all got along like one big dysfunctional band of brothers.

And now that Matt isn’t here with us…it’s just not the same.

I missed my wingman. That one— he motions to Tanner, who’s chugging another cup full of beer and has foam dripping down his face— has driven away more pussy than I’ve scored.

Laughing, I shake my head. We met Tanner at bootcamp, and after realizing he lived in Chicago too, we became good friends. I’ll see what I can do tonight.

Tonight is about you. Ben looks around the room and spots a blonde in a tight pink dress. What about that one. Look at the tits on her.

I follow his gaze. The woman is attractive in all the conventional ways. Thin, big breasts, lots of makeup, and big, fluffy curls. She’s your type, not mine.

She’s anyone with a cock’s type.

Keep talking like that and I’m sure she’ll come falling all over you. I roll my eyes. Ben punches my arm and pulls his dog tags out from under his shirt, making sure they’re resting on his chest.

Shut up and watch me work. He finishes his beer and crushes the cup in his hand as he walks to the blonde. He says something to her, and she looks over at me and gives me a little wave. Another few seconds go by and she’s walking back over here with Ben.

You’re welcome, Ben mouths and takes a few steps back, getting swallowed by the crowd.

Hi, the blonde says. I’m Carry.

Hey, Carry. I’m Michael.

It’s nice to meet you. Your friend said you guys are leaving for Afghanistan tomorrow. That’s so brave. She brings her hand to her chest, running her fingers over the top of her breasts. My cock takes notice, that’s for sure. I just love a man in uniform…even though you’re not wearing it. She laughs, leaning over so her breasts practically spill out of her dress.

She’s throwing herself at me, obviously wants a blind hookup, and yet I’m not interested. I wasn’t always like this, and if Matt were here, he’d smack me upside the head for turning this hot chick down. Maybe if I talk to her, find some sort of spark of interest, I’ll want to take her hand and let her pull me into an empty room upstairs.

Do you go to school here? I ask.

No, I’m visiting from Ohio. My cousin Greg goes here, though. He’s here somewhere. She looks around and shrugs. I have you now to keep me company. Hey! Want to take a shot from between my boobs?

I, uh…uh…yes. She links her fingers through mine and starts toward the kitchen where she fills a shot glass with whiskey and wedges it between her breasts. I have no idea how I’m supposed to suck down the alcohol, but I’m going to enjoy trying.

Half an hour later, I’m buzzed. I lost Carry somewhere amongst the shuffle—purposely. After hearing her go on and on about how she wants to put a weight limit on the pledges to her sorority house, I was done. And then when she said she didn’t think evolution was real because we don’t have wings, I just couldn’t anymore.

I check the time, wondering if Allison is done at the bookstore and could come pick me up early. But then I spot her, and everything fades.

The music isn’t thumping in my ears.

The lights aren’t flashing along with the beat.

The smell of beer, barf, and BO aren’t filling the room.

She’s sitting on the couch, wearing a low-cut red top and a black skirt. Her gaze is cast down, and she fiddles with a little yellow charm hanging around her neck. Long dark hair curtains her face, and when she looks up for a second, I’m shocked by the vibrance of her bright green eyes. But that’s not the only thing that hits me.

There’s sadness in her eyes, a deep longing for something that’s gone and buried. An ache in her heart so painful she doesn’t know if she’ll be able to carry on. The weight of putting on a brave face is pulling her under, and she’s going to slip below the surface at any moment.

The girl sitting next to her leans in and says something to her, pointing to a group of guys who are eyeing her from across the room. She frowns and shakes her head, making her friend roll her eyes. She gives the green-eyed girl a hug and gets up, walking over to the guys.

A few seconds pass, and she’s still sitting on the couch. Then some drunk guy stumbles by and spills his beer right on her.

Shit, I’m sorry, the guy mumbles before staggering away. The girl stands, tears already in her eyes, and looks down at herself. I hurry into the kitchen, grab a towel, and am by her side in just a few seconds.

Here, I say and thrust the towel out, realizing just now that it’s filthy. Not my finest moment, dammit.

Thank you, the girl tells me. She takes the dirty towel and folds it over, trying to find a clean spot to dab herself dry with. I don’t know why I came, she huffs, talking to herself.

Want to get out of here? I ask and then realize what it sounds like I’m implying. Sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I didn’t want to come either.

She looks up, for the first time looking at me, and meets my eyes. My god, she’s beautiful. She’s not wearing much makeup, and her eyes look a little red and swollen as if she’s been crying. The sweet scent of lilac comes off her, and I find myself wanting to lean in and breathe it in.

Why are you here if you didn’t want to come? she asks, wiping the last bit of beer from between her thighs.

My friends forced me.

Her lips pull into a small smile. Mine did too. I don’t even know where they are.

Same. They could be tied up and being tortured in the basement or upstairs having a threesome for all I know.

She laughs, and when she smiles the whole fucking room lights up. I’m Har—Antoinette. My name is Antoinette.

That’s not a name you hear too often.

Right? She laughs, and a flush comes to her cheeks. That’s why I like it. Who are you?

I’m ordinary Michael. So, you want to get a drink or something?

You know what? she pauses, looking into my eyes. Yeah. That sounds good. And I would like to get out of here, but to like the back porch or something. You’re a stranger.

I laugh. Stranger-danger is a real thing. But you’re also a stranger. Should I be worried?

Terrified. She raises her eyebrows. Because I am a serial killer who planned on tying up at least a dozen people in the basement to torture before the night was through.

She tosses the nasty towel on the coffee table and comes with me into the kitchen. I fill up two plastic cups with some sort of Kool-Aid, Mountain Dew, and vodka mix. It’s not as gross as it sounds.

Antoinette takes a big drink, lets out a sigh, and goes in for the rest. I needed that.

Drinking to forget something? I ask.

She nods. I am. She fills up her cup again. My friends said I shouldn’t talk about it, though. It makes people uncomfortable. She shakes her head and takes another drink.

Well, I already know you’re a serial killer. What could be more uncomfortable that knowing that?

She laughs and chokes on her drink. Coughing, she waves her hand in front of her face. It’s adorable. Does sacrificing victims for a satanic ritual make me a serial killer?

I think once you kill more than three people, you’re considered one.

Good to know.

I playfully nudge her arm. Though, that’s only if you get caught.

Right. She brings her cup to her lips again and I debate telling her to slow down. You can’t taste the alcohol in this due to all the sugar, but it’s there, and it’s strong. My mom died, she blurts, and her eyes fill with tears. That’s what I’m drinking to forget, though it doesn’t matter because no matter how much I drink I’ll know she’s still dead, and then even if I did forget, it’ll wear off and I’ll remember all over again. I hate this, and I don’t like feeling sad. I miss my mom and I want to be happy, but being happy without her is wrong and makes me feel guilty and it’s not fucking fair she had to die.

She spits that all out rather quickly and looks relieved for half a second before regretting it. I stare at her, unable to say anything because I know exactly how she feels.

I guess my friends were right. She goes to gulp down the rest of her drink.

They’re not, I rush out. Because I feel the same.

She lowers her cup. You do?

I nod. My brother died a year and a half ago.

I’m so sorry.

Me too.

Her eyes fill with tears. It doesn’t get any easier?

I swallow the lump in my throat. It does. You have to deal with it, though. I didn’t, and for half a year I was angry at everyone. Hell. I was angry at the whole fucking world. It didn’t help that I’d just gone through bootcamp only to come home and have two Marines come to the door.

I knew the second the doorbell rang. I felt in my bones, and I’d had nightmares the entire week before about my brother being killed in action.

And then he was.

Was it sudden? Antoinette asks, voice thinning. She leans in close so I can hear her.

Yes, I tell her, brushing her thick hair back over her shoulder. She shivers from my touch and turns. Her eyes are glossed over, both from the grief and from the alcohol that’s quickly taking hold of her. Come on. I take her hand and weave our way through the house, going out on a large covered porch in the back of the house. A few people are out here smoking, but it’s much quieter than inside.

What about your mom? I ask gently as we sit on the top step. Was it sudden?

Yes and no, she tells me, turning her head up to the night sky. She had cancer but was in remission. Things were looking up and then it hit her again all of the sudden. She went from teaching salsa dancing on Thursday nights to having three weeks left to live.

Shit, that’s hard. I’m sorry.

Thanks. Antoinette sniffles and wipes her eyes. It’s only been a few weeks and my friends thought getting out and partying would get me back to normal.

It’s shitty, isn’t it? I ask. How people try to put a time limit on the grief.

She nods. I think they really do want me to be ‘normal’ again but it also makes them uncomfortable, I know. Though I get it. She takes in a deep breath. It’s hard being around someone so down. It takes a lot of your energy away too. I’m fine being left alone, so I feel bad for being annoyed with them for wanting to take me out.

I never thought about it like that.

She nudges my arm. You did say you were angry.

Oh, I was. It took all my energy, I admit and hold up my cup. To your mom.

And your brother.

We tap our cups together and take a drink. Harper sets her now empty cup down on the step next to her.

Thanks for talking to me, Michael. Not many people understand.

No, they don’t. And you’re welcome.

Antoinette looks up at the sky again. Do you want to go in and dance?

I can’t dance.

She gets up, a little wobbly on her feet. Everyone can dance.

Fine, I laugh. I can’t dance well.

Prove it. She extends her hand for me. I take it and get to my feet. We can hear the music from out here, and I don’t think she has any intention of going back in. I know I don’t. It’s easier to breathe out here, and I want Antoinette all to myself.

I take her in my arms, and the second my hands land on the small of her back, I’m turned on. My mind flashes to Ben’s it’s not natural for a twenty-year-old guy to not have sex talk he gave me just this morning in preparation for hooking up at the party tonight. Even before Matt died, one-night stands weren’t really my thing.

And I don’t think they’re Antoinette’s thing either.

Okay, you weren’t joking. She laughs, and when she does, her breasts rise and fall right in my face. I swallow hard and try to think of some sort of distraction.

Do you go to school here? I blurt.

I do. She runs her hands down my back. I’m working on my degree in public relations.

Sounds interesting. What can you do with that?

Oh, lots of stuff. I’ll take what I can get when I graduate, but I want to run my own firm someday and do a lot of free PR for charities. You know. Give a voice to those who don’t have one.

She’s beautiful, ambitious, and kind. You’ll do it. In five years, you’ll be the CEO of some fancy-pants company.

It’s a big goal.

Smiling, I look into her eyes. I get a good feeling about you, Antoinette. Like if anyone can pull that all off, it’s you.

You have a lot of faith in someone you just met.

I fold her in my embrace, and for the first time in a long time, feel full. It’s stupid, considering that—like she just said—we just met. Yet there is something about her, something different, that’s pulling me in. I know already in this short amount of time that there’s so much to her.

She’s beautiful, but she’s also kind and driven. And she knows what it’s like to hurt.

To suffer.

To have something so precious and wonderful taken unfairly away.

And yet it’s not making her bitter, not making her angry.

The vodka starts to hit me as well, and I don’t think. I just act. I take Antoinette’s chin in my hand and tip her head up so I can kiss her. I hate that I’m leaving tomorrow. Why start something when I’m going to be overseas for the next several years?

She’s already lost so much, I don’t want to do anything that could add to her pain. She’s a one-in-a-million type of women, I know. I have no idea what tomorrow will hold, but at least we have tonight.

2

Harper

Now…

Y ou are glowing. Kate steps aside and lets me into her swanky house

Am I? I try hard not to smile as I move into the large foyer and take off my shoes.

And those are yesterday’s clothes.

They are. My smile takes over my face and my heart just about bubbles over. I never quite made it home last night.

Ohhh details, lady, Rose says, coming into the foyer. She’s holding a glass of red wine and is wearing a long, pale pink dress. Her strawberry blonde hair flows around her face in delicate curls, and her no-makeup-yet-is-wearing-makeup look is sheer perfection. No one should look that good this early in the morning.

She strides over, floating more than walking, and gives me a hug. You smell like men’s cologne. You so got some last night, didn’t you?

My smile broadens. I did.

Kate narrows her eyes. So, things are good between you and Alex?

I blink, having to think back to remember what she’s talking about. Right…back at the lake house, I alluded to us breaking up over the fact that Alex doesn’t want a family. I actually had no idea if that’s true, but was more an assumption I came to and a lie that I needed to spin to make the impending fake breakup more believable.

But after last night…I know he wants more. We parted ways a little awkwardly since his sister showed up, but I know Alex enough by now to know that he’s not the best with his emotions. And holy hell, the sex—I can’t think about it or I’ll get turned on all over again.

Would it be too soon to invite him over as soon as we get home? I’ll give the girls my phone to watch YouTube videos and take Alex into my room for a little one-on-one time. Heat rushes through me and I still can’t believe what happened.

I slept with Alex—my boss—in the office. Then I went home with him and we had sex again. I fell asleep naked and wrapped in his arms, and I woke up feeling complete peace for the first time since Mom died.

Alex makes me happy. Makes me laugh. He doesn’t judge me for my circumstances, and while he might have been an entitled, rich asshole when we first met, I uncovered who he is under the layers he doesn’t even know he’s made up of.

He’s not a bad guy.

He’s funny. Charming. Caring in his own way. There’s still more to him left to uncover, but I’m sure I’ll see it in time.

I think.

I hope.

I’m getting ahead of myself, I know. We slept together, which is a big deal for me, but probably is just another Friday night for Alex. His playboy reputation almost ruined a good business deal, and it wasn’t without merit. Though I’m convinced this was more than causal sex to him as well. I could feel it in the way he kissed me, how he held me, and the way he looked at me, making butterflies flap in my stomach without even touching me.

Yeah, I tell Kate and actually don’t feel like I’m lying this time. Alex technically isn’t my boyfriend, but the feelings are real now. I think the weekend together and then a week not being able to see each other because we were so busy with work put things in perspective.

She’s been going on and on about your hot-as-fuck BF, Rose says. I need to meet this hottie.

You have, I laugh. Well, kind of. Remember Henry Ortiz’s hot uncle from orientation?

No fucking way! Rose’s eyes widen. He had such bad vibes coming off of him.

I laugh. He did, and trust me, I thought he was a grade-A asshole when we first met, but then I got to know him.

Beauty tamed the Beast, Rose jokes.

I laugh. I can roll with that. Maybe we can all go out some night. Dinner and a movie? Is that too cliché?

That’s perfectly cliché, Rose says with a smile. "It’s been a while since Jack and