Page 98 of Spring Tide

“Okay ...” She trails off, taking a deep breath to pull herself together. “I have to get to work, but I love you. Bentley should be out for the rest of the night. We’ll figure out what to do about E at some point this weekend.”

“Sounds good. Have a nice night.” I muster up my best attempt at a smile, but I’m frozen in place as she ties her serving apron across her waist. When the front door shuts behind her, I let my head drop into my hands.

I’m practically shaking by the time I pull out my phone.

Luca:Can you come over? I need to see you.

Harper:Now?

Luca:Yes

Harper:I can leave my place in 15. Should I bring an overnight bag?

Luca:Please

* * *

I’mon the porch waiting for Harper when she shows up, no more than a half hour after I texted. She’s already wearing her pajamas, hair tossed up into a loose bun. Even after everything, the sight of her fuzzy pink slippers padding up to my doorstep brings a genuine smile to my face.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, pulling me into her arms.

I duck my head into the crook of her neck, breathing in her comforting scent. There it is—my sweet peach, sunscreen, and the hint of salt water that always seems to linger on her skin.

“Can we talk about it tomorrow?” I mumble against her neck. “I just ... tonight I just want to hold you and forget about everything else.”

“Yeah, okay.” She takes my hand, gripping tight, guiding me inside and down the hallway. “Let’s get in bed.”

Without another word between us, I strip down to my boxers. We fall back onto the mattress together and duck under the covers. My body relaxes ever so slightly as she tucks herself against my side.

I’m frustrated, I’m exhausted, and I’m so goddamn stressed. Right now is not the time to be doing this, but I don’t think there’s anything I can do to stop myself. The question’s going to tumble out of me whether I like it or not, and I suppose I have that fucking asshole Fletcher to thank for this.

One last deep breath, then, “Harper?”

“Yeah?”

I tighten my grip, pulling her even closer to me. With my pulse thrumming behind my ears, I let the question run free: “Do you think I could call you my girlfriend now?”

Her breath catches, and she goes silent for a long moment. There are about a million regrets flashing through my mind by the time she finally responds.

“Is that what you want?” She bites her lip, the corner of her eyes crinkling. “For me to be your girlfriend?”

My entire body vibrates with nerves. “Yes.”

She giggles, actually fucking giggles, and I choke out a sharp breath.

“Then yeah,” she says. “You should probably call me that.”

“Okay.”Finally. Fucking finally, there’s something good here. I slip my fingers into her hair, nuzzle against her neck, nip her earlobe between my lips. “Thank God.”

29

HARPER

It’s beennear radio silence since I slept over at Luca’s house last weekend. He woke up early on Saturday morning, then headed out of town for an away game. On Sunday, he worked another long shift at the pier. All week long, I’ve been texting and calling him when I can. He does respond, but it’s short, sweet, and to the point.

I know he’s busy, overwhelmingly so. I just miss him.

We still haven’t talked about what went wrong when he called me over that night. Now, I’m worried he may be spiraling. I can only hope he finds the space and time to confide in me soon. Hopefully, I’ve set the stage well enough for that to happen tonight.

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