Page 89 of Never Been Worse

“He said if you don’t drop the PI and if I don’t step out of the limelight, he’s bringing it to the press. He wants us to get divorced because he thinks you’ll stop digging if we end things.”

“Absolutely not, Harper.”

“He’s going to say the tour is delayed because Riggins is drinking again, that Stella is leaving him, or some other bullshit that will cause mayhem.”

I listen to her, trying to piece it together with what she’s telling me, to understand what it means, but I don’t. I shake my head at her.

“But that doesn’t matter. They’re telling everyone soon anyway. There’s an article already being written, and photos have been taken. They’re?—”

“That’s what I said.” She takes in a deep breath, letting it out slowly before she meets my eyes again. “And then he threatened Ava and Jules again. Apparently, there’s still a police report, and he’s been adding to it after our most recent antics. He has some buddy on the force or something who he’s been talking to, keeping it on the back burner. It wouldn’t be him pressing charges but the city. If I don’t do what he wants, he’s going to hit everyone: you, Stella, the band. Ava and Jules and me.” Suddenly, her face changes, a guard coming over it as she looks at her hands. “You were right. I think he always had this as a plan, Wes. There was nothing we could have done to stop it. He was always going to try and come for more.”

My brow furrows with confusion. “More?”

“He saw your post that went viral. He wants the final design.” My jaw goes tight, my teeth aching with the force, but then she finishes. “And the new ones I’ve been working on.”

“Harper, no,” I say instantly, shaking my head. Panic courses through me as I try and think of a way out of this. The PI said he has some leads, but he hasn’t found anything solid yet, at least not that I’m aware of. Clearly, though, there’s something there, something Jeremy is afraid we’ll find, or he wouldn’t be so adamant about having the investigator back off. I’m racking my mind for ideas and plans, ways to solve this for Harper, but then pause with confusion as a triumphant smile spreads on her lips.

“I’m not giving it to him, of course. We have a plan.”

“We?”

“Me, the girls. Willa. I have a meeting with Leo tomorrow. I want to meet with the PI, too, if we can make that happen, though Jaime wants to make sure he wasn’t compromised first and that it was Laurel who told Jeremy about everything.”

“Laurel made the appointment with the investigator for me, so she definitely knows. You have a meeting with Leo? When did all this happen?”

“The Jeremy stuff was this morning, and I called the girls on my drive home. They met me here soon after. We’ve been working on it since.” It’s six now, so we’re probably looking at at least seven hours since Jeremy cornered her.

“Fuck, Harper. Why didn’t you call me?” I expect her to look at me with a hint of guilt or embarrassment, but instead, she tips her chin up, shoulders going back.

“I needed time.”

“Time? For what? I’m your husband, Harper.”

“Exactly. You’re my husband, and you should have told me you hired a PI.”

I throw my hands up. “So you would get annoyed that I’m digging into this when you wanted to just let it go?” Her jaw goes tight, and I know I’m digging a deeper hole, but right now I don’t actually care. I shake my head. “I knew you wanted to move on, but I wasn’t taking the chance that something likethiswas going to happen. And it did. Now we’re ahead of things, and I have someone already digging into it.”

A moment passes, and she closes her eyes, taking a deep breath before opening them again and looking at me. I’m taken aback by what I see, the anger pushed aside, the irritation and indignation gone, and all that is left is the hurt.

Fuck.

“That’s not how this works, Wes,” she says softly. “I was in a relationship where I trusted blindly and where I was kept in the dark on things, and I didn’t like how that felt. You know that. You know how I struggled with stepping into the sun and realizing how deeply misguided I was. And you did the same thing. I needed time to come to terms with that, to gain an understanding of why, to catch my breath. Because no matter what I feel for you, I won’t let that happen again, won’t let someone make decisions for me, and keep secrets. It’s not the relationship I want, and it’s not something I’ll stand for again. You can’t break my trust like that, not if you want this to work long-term.”

“I didn’t break your trust—” I start, but when I see the flash of hurt on her face at my denial, the way her eyes water, I stop and really listen to what she’s trying to tell me. I force myself to set my well-meaning but possibly self-serving intentions to the side and see things from her point of view. She is fresh out of a relationship where she was manipulated, used, and lied to, and then I turned around and moved in that same direction.

“You don’t get to decide if you broke my trust or not, Wes. You don’t get to decide when you cross my lines: I do. And if you can’t respect that, then tell me now, because I’m not going back to being the person who accepts that treatment.” She’s serious, her face stern and her shoulders back. Even though I see the hurt in her eyes at the thought of stepping away from this, I know she’ll do it if she has to.

I’m so fucking proud of her.

“You’re right,” I say, taking in a deep breath. I want to step to her, to pull her into my arms, but I need her to decide if I deserve that.

“I am?” she asks, slightly confused.

“Of course you are. You’re an adult. You’re strong, and I don’t have to move around you with kid gloves, to manipulate the truth to do what I think is right. I should have talked to you. This is a partnership, not a dictatorship. You have a say in how these things go, and I need to respect that.”

“Oh,” she says, her brow furrowing, clearly confused.

“What, did you expect me to argue?”

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