Page 29 of Harper

“Fat chance. I’m taking two couples for an overnight up the Chilkoot Trail as soon as we get back home.”

“I’ll do it! I love a hike and an overnight!”

“Forget it. The Jeep’s already packed, and the couples are finishing breakfast as we speak. Not to mention, you’re sorely in need of a shower, Harp.” She wrinkles her nose. “Is that Eau de Puke?”

“Shut up, Parker.”

She cackles with glee.

“Can’t Dad do cruises today?” I whine.

“Nope. Dad’s rebuilding the pen in the barn for Trinity and Neo.”

“I guess the goats take precedence over his own daughter’s health and happiness,” I grouse, taking my sunglasses out of my bag and plunking them on my face.

“A hangover doesn’t get you out of work, and you know it,” Parker says. “Suck it up, buttercup.”

“Shut up, Parker,” I tell her again, slinking down in my seat and closing my eyes.

My stomach immediately protests the change in my posture, roiling like the sea during a summer storm. I sit up straight, rolling down the window for some fresh air. With twenty more minutes until we’re home and most of it on a bumpy dirt road, I’ll be lucky if I don’t yack again.

To distract myself, I try to figure out how the hell I woke up in Joe’s bed.

The last thing I remember, I was sitting in the biergarten in front of the Happy Ending Saloon with my brother, Wyatt, Layla, and Joe. We were drinking margaritas, and I was throwing them back extra fast because I felt awkward about Joe’s and my conversation at the beach and about sitting across from him at the biergarten table. There was music and food—I know I ate cheese fries at some point—but mostly there was alcohol. Pitcher after pitcher. Glass after glass.

Digging deep, I find a faint memory of dancing to country music (though I can’t remember with whom) and a barely-there recollection of shouting at Hunter.

And then? Nothing…

…until I woke up in Joe’s bed wearing his T-shirt.

God only knows what I said and did while I was blackout drunk.

Ugh. What a mess.

I owe Hunter an apology for sure. Maybe Wyatt and Layla, too. But Lord only knows who else. I tend to get mouthy whenI’m drunk, and I’ve been known to hurt feelings. I wonder what I said to Joe. I grimace as the possibilities slide through my mind.

By way of comeuppance, Joe’s words from this morning streak through my head: I’m not so hard up that I have to take advantage of comatose women.

Hanging my head out the car window, I frown at my reflection in the side mirror, wondering what he meant by that. Was it in response to something I said last night? Or was there actual truth to it? And if Joe’s not hard up, who’s he getting done by?

Though I shouldn’t, I quietly and unobtrusively keep tabs on Joe’s dating life and have since the day I moved home. As far as I know, he’s not dating anyone—that is, he’s not going out to dinner or out to drinks with anyone consistently. I’m almost positive there’s no one serious in his life.

But could he be sleeping with someone?

Like everyone else in Skagway, I’ve heard the rumors about Joe and Avery Wells, but I’ve pretty much dismissed them. She’s not Joe’s type. Red-headed, skinny to the point of bony, and at least ten years older than Joe, I can’t believe he’d be into her. She’s not his type at all.

But then again, I think, maybe old, bony, and ginger starts to look pretty good when your once-upon-a-time girlfriend treats you like shit for five straight years. If he is with Avery, you’ve got no one to blame but yourself, Harper.

I suck in a breath through my teeth, the way I would if I fell on jagged gravel and skinned my knees and palms. The idea of Joe sleeping with Avery hurts. And it’s a sharp fucking hurt.

I rub the place over my heart, reminding myself that there’s no way for me and Joe to be together. It doesn’t matter if he’s fucking Avery. It doesn’t matter if he’s fucking the whole town of Skagway. My jealousy has no place and no point because he can’t be with me.

Why?

Because if we were ever to get back together again, I’d have to tell him the truth about what I did. And if he knew, he’d hate me forever. He’d never forgive me, and he’d certainly never be able to love me again. That is such an absolute fact, I know it in the marrow of my bones. A lie of omission is still a lie, after all, and what I hid from Joe would make me the ultimate villain in the story of his life. There’s no coming back from what I did, and there’s no way to make amends. The best thing I can do for Joe is stay away from him and keep the secret until we’re both dead.

“Harper, you okay?”

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