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insisted, thinking the idea of calmly eating a meal in these circumstances was annoyingly bizarre. Jacob ignored her, however, turning his attention to talking to Lisa and requesting that some herbal tea and a light dinner be sent up to his suite. Harper responded to his stubbornness by gathering up her clothes and going into the bathroom to change. She already felt vulnerable enough in front of Jacob.
Jake
! Being dressed would help to ground her. She was relieved to see when she returned from the bathroom that he’d re-dressed, as well.
    Did that mean he felt as exposed as she did?
    “I’ll never forgive my parents for lying to me about it,” she said after the dinner tray had been delivered and sat on the coffee table in front of them. She hadn’t touched either the poured chamomile tea or the salad and fresh-baked bread. She stood and began to pace in front of the fireplace. Jacob remained seated, watching her soberly as he held a cup of steaming tea in his large hand. “All that grief I felt. All that guilt for feeling like I contributed to your death—”
    Jacob set down his cup loudly.
    “They did it because they loved you so much. Surely you can understand that they’d want to completely cut away that experience from your life.”
    “How can you
defend
them?” Harper asked, spinning to face him.
    “I’m not saying what they did was right. But I understand why they did it. If I was a parent, and I had your father’s particular skills, I might have done the same thing.”
    His somber defense of her parents’ actions only frothed her fury.
    “You’re defending what they did because you’re
like
them.” He gave her a startled glance, and she realized she was shouting. She couldn’t seem to stop herself, though. The lid had just popped off her emotions. “You tried to cut Jake Tharp out of
your
life, just like my parents tried to slice him out of mine. You killed off that little boy and buried him like he was some kind of shameful secret.”
    “Harper—”
    “No, I’m telling the truth and you know it! You say you didn’t tell me that you were Jake Tharp because you worried it’d re-traumatize me, erase all the good work my dad did in treating me,” she said sarcastically. “But the truth is, you didn’t want me to remember Jake Tharp because you’re ashamed of him.”
    “What if I am?” Jacob bellowed suddenly, flying to his feet. She started back in surprise. “I was helpless and weak. I was Emmitt’s whipping boy. Do you think I
want
to remember that? I spent my life trying to be the opposite of Jake Tharp. You have no right to criticize me for wanting that. Not privileged, rich, adored little Harper McFadden.”
    “You
jerk
. Privileged, adored little Harper McFadden thought Jake Tharp was the bravest, smartest, nicest person she’d ever met in her life,” Harper yelled, stepping toward him aggressively. She checked herself when she saw his face stiffen, as if she’d slapped him or something. She wanted to rage at him, and she wanted to cry, and she wanted to never stop hugging him . . . and she didn’t know what she wanted. “Why are you looking at me like you’re surprised?” she demanded, clamping her eyelids shut to get a hold of herself. “I loved you, don’t you get that? I asked my parents if they’d become foster parents and let you come live with us! I had your room all planned out. I couldn’t wait to show you the museums in DC and give you my copy of The Lord of the Rings to read and so many other things.” Tears gushed out of her eyes as the poignant memories rushed her. “And you have the nerve to stand there and tell me that both you and my parents were right to stage Jake Tharp’s death? Well, fuck you, Jacob Latimer.”
    She started toward the door of his suite but he halted her with his hands on her shoulders. He spun her to face him. He towered over her—so tall and strong, so commanding, so pivotal in her awareness . . . so different from Jake