Among the Heather (The Highlands, #2) (51)

An alarming surge of tenderness and admiration filled me. North didn’t care if this cleared his name. He cared if people could be hurt seeing the video. The police had reported the footage missing from their evidence archives, so someone had been paid to steal it.

He put down his mug and stood, pacing beside me. “Who would leak that? Who would do such a thing?”

“Who would gain from it?”

North halted and looked sharply at me. “I would.” His expression tightened, and he yanked his phone off the table. “No, no fucking way.”

“North, talk to me.” I stood, grabbing his wrist before he could dial whoever he was planning to call.

“It’s like you said. Who would gain from it? I would. The studio would rehire me and everyone on my team would make a lot of money if this spy franchise were to take off.”

Understanding, I still didn’t remove my hand. “But you can’t go accusing anyone because you won’t ever know for certain if one of them got hold of that footage. All you’ll do is cause more drama and strife among your team. It’s done now. It’s out. As difficult as it is, you have to make peace with that.”

He glowered, but I knew it wasn’t at me. Then North’s expression changed as quickly and dramatically as the Scottish weather. Pain etched his features. “I feel like I’m going to spend my whole life paying for that night. And maybe that’s the way it should be.”

Without thinking, I clasped his face in my hands, the bristle of his unshaven cheeks prickling my palms. “You did nothing wrong. You tried to save a man. But you were just a child, North. And you have to learn to forgive yourself.”

He wrapped his hands around my wrists, but not to pull away. Instead, he leaned his forehead against mine and closed his eyes.

I stayed there with him, holding him, letting him take whatever comfort he could from me. And despite all my alarm bells ringing that I was allowing intimacy I wasn’t ready for to deepen between us, I could not pull away.





Nineteen


ARIA





“Who were you as a teenager?”

I looked up from the soup and sandwich I’d thrown together for a late lunch to find North studying me curiously. It had been an emotional morning, and North had taken a walk on the beach for some fresh air. I’d stayed back, to give him time to think, and so I could work through the emails piling up in my inbox. I also spoke with Lachlan to update him on the situation after Jock called to tell me that a few paps had arrived at the gates. There weren’t as many as the first time because apparently, the paparazzi were only interested in you if the world was hating on you.

I couldn’t lie to my boss, especially since security already knew, so I told him North was with me. “It might be difficult for me to ask him to leave if this is a problem for you,” I told Lachlan. Thankfully, Lachlan was perfectly understanding.

“It’s nobody’s damn business why North is at your place. It’s complicated for you because your social circle includes the people in this industry. I know this isn’t in character for you and I know you won’t make a habit of it, so I can only assume you and North have become friends. That’s not my business.”

Friends.

What an inadequate word for whatever we were.

By the time North returned, I’d cleared the work that was a priority, glad for the distraction. And I couldn’t think about the awful email I’d received this morning. Clearly, someone out there wanted to hurt me, and there were a few people it could be, but they weren’t worth my energy. I’d wanted to focus on making sure North was okay without overthinking why his welfare was so important to me.

So we chatted as I put together lunch. I updated him on the security situation, and he curled a lip in distaste at the mention of the media.

Then we settled in to eat, which brought us to now and North’s out-of-left-field question.

“What do you mean, who was I as a teenager?”

“Well, I was the kid burying his trauma with drive. I wanted out of my tiny part of the world and I wanted to make something of my life. So I didn’t focus on what I didn’t have. I focused on what I wanted. We didn’t really have cliques at school, anyway, but I guess you could say I was the guy who was friends with everyone. Academics, theater kids, the athletic kids, the rich kids, the not-so-rich kids. And I did every extracurricular thing under the sun, so I didn’t have to think about anything but school.”

While there was an intensity to North beneath his cocky charm and humor (it especially came through in his acting work), I actually couldn’t imagine him as that driven type A student he’d described.

“Um … well, I was academic.” I shrugged. “I liked school. And I was on the swim team. Montana, my high school boyfriend, was a linebacker for the school football team, so between my dad being Wesley Howard and Montana being a jock, I was just accepted as one of the popular kids. But I wasn’t a cheerleader or the prom queen or anything like that. I was more reserved, not shy, but not overly gregarious. Mamma is such a flamboyant character, loud and attention-seeking, that I think I deliberately wanted to be the opposite.”

North frowned in thought. “Did she embarrass you?”

“No.” I shook my head. “I mean, it embarrassed me that guys I went to school with had the hots for her and always wanted to hang out at my place, hoping to see her in a bikini. She wasn’t around enough for the opportunity, thank God. I think it was more that everything always had to be—has to be,” I corrected, “about her. I love my mother, and there is goodness in her, kindness and empathy, and I know she loves me and Allegra. But she can be self-involved. When I was a kid, everywhere we went, it was all about Mamma. As I got older, that was uncomfortable for me. We’d go to a family gathering to celebrate my aunt’s birthday or to a friend’s party to celebrate their anniversary, and Mamma would make sure she was the center of attention. She’d do an unscheduled speech that turned into an Italian serenade or a solo dance. All that energy and beauty … people are drawn to her. Everyone else just fades into the background.