Page 94 of Harrison's Wedding

Heather looks confused by what I’ve told her. “Wait, if they wanted you to stay, how are you here?”

She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t realize I would’ve moved heaven and earth to get to her yesterday. That I would’ve signed any paper they put in front of me just to get to her.

“You can’t guess, angel?” She shakes her head. “I discharged myself against medical advice. Had to sign the world’s longest waiver; they tried very hard to convince me to stay. I’m pretty sure they didn’t want the death of a member of Cruise Control on their hands,” I smile ruefully at her, “but I needed to come home to you. Callum was worried about you, which worried me.”

“Harrison Fletcher!”

She glares at me, and I’m surprised by her sudden anger, because she’s angrier than she’s seemed since she found out what I did.

“How fucking dare you do that? Sleeping with someone else while drugged is bad enough, but how the fuck do you think I would’ve survived if you’d died from some kind of fucking complication mid-flight?”

Despite the fact that she’s swearing at me, I can’t help but smile, because she does still love me.

“Ah, angel. You do care.”

She inhales deeply and blows the air out slowly before narrowing her eyes at me and saying, “Don’t you fucking dare do anything like that again, Harrison. Put your health at risk again, even if it’s to come and see me, and we’re definitely through.”

“Noted. I promise not to put my health at risk, again, angel. S—” I manage to cut off the word before it slips out, “—o, what are you doing today?”

Even Heather smiles at my pivot away from the word ‘sorry,’ to the word ‘so,’ instead.

“Nice catch. I’m not going to work today; I thought I might go see my mom.”

I really like Lillian; she’s been my second mom for fourteen years, and I smile.

“Oh, lovely; tell her I said hello.” Heather raises an eyebrow at me, my smile slips, and I grimace as reality hits me again. “Actually, probably not a good idea, I guess. I’ll call Cal and tell him your plans; I wasn’t sure what you were doing today, so I told him to wait until he heard from us.”

“Thanks, I appreciate that.”

Heather finishes the last of her toast, stands up, and rinses her plate and glass before putting them in the dishwasher. She hesitates next to me on her way out of the room, then kisses me on the cheek. Her lips burn because I’m not worthy of her kisses.

“I do still love you, Harrison, and I’m glad you didn’t die on the flight back here. Please see a doctor today and get checked up.”

“Also noted,” I smile at her, “and I will.”

I can barely stand how much she loves me. I can’t stand that she cares about my health. I’ll see a doctor today, but only because she asked me to. I don’t care if the drugs are out of my system. I suppose, if I find out that the drugs are gone, I could get drunk. I need to forget the world.

Heather says a quiet goodbye before she leaves, and Callum follows her out, leaving me alone in the apartment. It’s too quiet, and my thoughts are overwhelming me. I walk from room to room, swamped in memories of my time here with Heather, mixed with memories of that night.

I can barely breathe, it hurts so bad. I’m sitting on the end of my bed, staring blindly into the open closet filled with Heather’s clothes when my phone pings with a text from Hayden.

You should check your email. Now.

A wave of nausea rolls over me at the urgency in his text. I open my emails, but as soon as they update, I know at once which one he wants me to look at. There’s an email subject in capital letters.

CANCELLATION OF CRUISE CONTROL x BRANTIMAN’S COLA CONTRACT

The email has been sent to all relevant parties, with the guys and myself copied in. I scroll down to the part where they’ve listed the relevant clause in our contract, and the nausea rushes back to me.

Harmful Behavior/Morals Clause – ARTIST shall not commit any act or do anything which might reasonably be considered: (i) to be immoral, deceptive, scandalous or obscene; or (ii) to injure, tarnish, damage or otherwise negatively affect the reputation and goodwill associated with the COMPANY and/or its brand.

I drop my phone next to me on the bed and put my head into my hands as I cry. The reason why doesn’t matter in this. All they care about is how it looks, and it looks pretty fucking bad. I can’t even blame them for dropping us, but my guilt at affecting the guys’ income is intensely painful.

Hayden sends another text.

Did you see?

I slash away the tears from my eyes and type a reply.

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