Page 6 of Exes and Oh Hell No

HARPER

The hot water cascades over my skin, but it does nothing to ease the knots in my shoulders. I roll my neck, willing away the tension, but the past clings to me like steam against the glass.

Goddamn it. Why does being here remind me of Ford?

My hands move over my skin, mindlessly scrubbing myself with the loofah, but my thoughts stay tangled in the memories I swore I buried.

Once upon a time, Ford and I wereeverything—inseparable, inevitable.

Where one of us went, the other followed.

Ford was my first everything—first crush, kiss, love, and heartbreak.

He set the bar so high that every man after him has felt like a cheap imitation.

My body betrays me, heating at the thought of the last time I watched him play. I neverfullyunderstood hockey, but that was because I couldn’t take my eyes off him. The sheer focus, the intensity, the way heownedthe ice.

Unless he got into a fight, then I was hyper-aware, feeling every hit, every punch as if his bruises and pain were my own.

I squeeze my eyes shut and turn the water to cold, gasping as it shocks my system.

Stop it.

Stop thinking abouthim.

It’s been a decade.

I broke up with him.

And I moved on.

Didn’t I?

I turn off the shower and grab a towel, wrapping it around my body before swiping another through my damp hair. I frown, critically eying my curvy reflection in the mirror.

Turning away, my feet pad across the hardwood floor to my old bedroom, heading straight for my suitcase.

Then I seeit.

The bottom dresser drawer is slightly open.

And inside, folded neatly, is a navy sweatshirt I haven’t seen in years.

My breath catches.

My mouth is dry as I slowly walk toward it, almost afraid it'll disappear if I move too fast.

Crouching, my fingers tremble as I pick it up.

Ford’s sweatshirt.

I’d curled up in this very fabric the night I lost him.

The night I sobbed into my pillow, hating how much Imissedhim, even though I was the one who walked away.

Like it burns, I drop it back into the drawer, slamming it shut.

This is the past.

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