Page 77 of Wicked

Silence.

Me: I’m sorry

Crickets.

Me: Well?

Harper: Yes, same guy

Me: And?

Harper: And what?

Me: Why him? Why not some other cop that doesn’t want inside your pants?

Harper’s major is Criminal Justice and Criminology. After she graduates with her degree, she’d like to get a job with the Prescott Police Department as a crime scene investigator, working alongside the men and women she admires.

Harper: He’s a nice guy, Ryker. I told him about us

Me: Doesn’t matter. There are guys that like the challenge of taking what’s not theirs

Harper: The kiss was an innocent one

Me: Shephard had no right. U r mine

Harper: Don’t

Don’t?

Me: I’m your guy. Or does ‘if I sleep with you, it’ll only be with you’ not mean anything to u?

Harper: I love you

Her words are powerful and control me in a way that has me hot under the collar. I shouldn’t let her wield that kind of power over my heart. I let a girl do that once, and look what it did—stripped me of the mindset to give a flying fuck. Made me hone my focus on football, untouched by the complications of caring for anyone other than my folks and winning.

It’s what I should be concentrating on—my future. Instead, I’m living in the moment, trying to understand my girl and her sudden change to do something other than our routine of spending time with me and the kids.

I read through the rest of our messages.

Harper: I’ll see you Friday. Please be in a better mood

Me: Thursday?

Me: Another ride-along?

Harper: It’s Shephard’s birthday.

Me: I see

Harper: He’s my friend. Understanding and patience, remember?

Me: I’ll see you Friday

It’s Friday night, and I haven’t heard from her, other than a text from last night saying the kids won’t be spending time with us. She’d like us to have alone time before I head out tomorrow morning for an away game in Utah.

I’m ready to text her where the fuck is she, but my phone pings. A message from an unknown number. Strange. I open the message. Or more like video message. The image is grainy, the action happening in the shadows of the dim lighting. I turn up the volume. Rustling of clothes. Raspy breathing. A small, slender body falling on the bed. Mass of long onyx hair. Hulking body following. Moans. Kissing. Groaning.

“Harper, baby, God, I miss this. Miss you. Give it to me good, love.”

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