Page 112 of My Favorite Secret
CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
FELIX
“Stay with me.” Harper’s heavy eyelids struggle to stay open as I lower her to our bed. Her fingers curl around my arm, like she’s afraid I might slip away.
“There’s no way I’m leaving. Give me a moment to freshen up.”
“Hurry.”
I can’t stop smiling as I step into the bathroom, remembering the way we just made love in the maze, as sappy as that terminology sounds. There’s no more holding back. I’m ready to give her everything. All of my goddamn heart.
As I wash the skeleton paint from my face, Tyler flashes to mind. Where the fuck did he end up tonight? The thought is fleeting. Nothing matters more than climbing into bed with Harper and wrapping her in my arms.
I grab a damp towel and return to the dark bedroom, kneeling in front of her as she sleeps once more. She’s completely at peace. So trustful of me. I’m a fool for wasting so many years being angry with her. But none of that matters now. We’re together and everything is as it should be.
Being gentle, I wipe the paint from her skin, careful not to wake her. My fingers linger at her lips. I lean forward, brushing my mouth to hers.
“Felix.” Tyler’s voice penetrates the silence, low and grim, tearing me down from my bliss. Not once have I heard such an alarming tone leave my brother.
I turn, finding him in the doorway, a silhouette against the hallway light. “Tyler, what’s wrong?”
“Paul Ferguson is dead.”
My brows raise with shock. I don’t feel one bit of remorse for the guy, but curiosity over his death leads me to the hallway with Tyler. My brother has already washed his face paint off. His jaw is tight and his eyes are plagued with distress. The bedroom door clicks shut quietly, separating the two of us from Harper as she sleeps.
I keep my voice down. “What happened to him?”
“Paul died in hospital a few days ago. He was admitted with severe head injuries the night he attacked Harper.”
Shit.
My muscles clench. I can read between the lines. The head injuries caused by me. I left Paul in a bad state, but not once did I think I killed him.
“The party was ten days ago. How are we only hearing about this now?” I ask.
“I don’t think many people know Paul was taken to hospital. Maybe his parents wanted it kept hushed.”
“Where does this leave us? How did you find out these details?”
Tyler’s throat works. His face is drained of all color. “The cops know you’re attached to Paul’s death. Felix, they’re here now, in Dad’s office, to arrest you for murdering Paul.”
My blood turns cold. “Fuck. What proof do they have?”
“Someone saw you beating Paul. They called the cops to the party and identified your face on security footage. There’s footage of us climbing into your car. The cops tracked your number plate.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Dad’s here too, with them. They sent me to find you and bring you to them. What the fuck are we supposed to do?”
I look at the bedroom door where Harper lays asleep inside. It’s not survival instincts that run through my mind, but fear of losing Harper. I claw both hands through my hair, scrunching and pulling. Groaning. My breath comes in ragged gasps.
Ican’tlose her. Theycan’ttake me away from her. I promised Harper nothing would ruin us.
But there’s no running from this. I fucked up and now I’m about to lose her all over again.
I press both palms to my forehead, squeezing my eyes shut as I force air into my lungs, trying to focus. Panicking won’t change anything. I need to remain strong. There has to be some line of defense. I was protecting Harper.
“I don’t know how you’re going to fight this one,” Tyler says.
