Page 47 of Harper

She nods. “Yeah.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Her gaze slides to my mouth, and she wets her lips with a dart of her tongue before looking back up at me. “One night, Joe. One. To get this…this—whatever this is—out of our systems. One night, and then, no more.”

Her eyes are locked with mine. She’s asking for my word. Can I give it? Can I agree to these terms?

“What do you—”

“I mean no more dates, no more walks on the beach, no more running into me on purpose,” she says, shrugging out of my arms. “Just civility. Just a polite hello if we meet by chance. Otherwise, we leave each other alone. That’s what I’m offering—one night together for a life lived apart.” She holds out her hand to me. “Deal?”

No. No deal. It’s not the deal I want. One night with her will never be enough. I want an eternity of nights with Harper Stewart. But if I say no, we’ll just go back to our separate lives anyway. At any point, she could start avoiding me all over again, and this thing we’ve shared over the last few days will be over. All of the momentum we gained will be gone.

I stare at her hand for a second, then raise my gaze to her face.

The reality is that I’m lost. There’s no way I can turn her down. There’s no way I can say no to her. I love her too much to say no. I’m going to have to take a chance that even though she says it’ll only be one night, it’ll actually be the start of many more.

I take her hand in mine.

“Deal.”

Nine Years Ago

Harper

Curled up on the bed in my aunt’s guest room, I stare at the wall.

Has it been five days? Six? A week? More? I don’t know. I’ve lost track. I only know that I can’t move…I don’t want to move…I still hurt everywhere.

The door to the room opens, and I hear footsteps enter. A moment later, the mattress I’m lying on sinks a little under the weight of my aunt sitting down.

“Harper?” she says gently. “You’ve got to eat something, sweetheart.”

Ignoring her, I curl tighter into a fetal position.

Fetal position.

The thought makes fresh tears assault my red and burning eyes.

“Harper,” she says, “what you did was so selfless, so brave. She’s going to have a wonderful life. I’m so proud of you, and I’m—I’m just so sorry for how it all went down. I just wish…”

I don’t care what you wish.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

She places a hand on my back, and I flinch.

Don’t touch me.

She draws it away.

“You’re young and healthy. You’re going to heal quickly. I know it.”

No, you don’t.

“I’m worried about you, sweetheart.”

I don’t care.

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