Last night, Harper’s body arched beneath mine like a perfect bow, her fingernails leaving crescent moons across my shoulders, her whispers hot against my ear. The memory of her taste—sweet and salt mingled together—still lingers on my tongue. We collapsed in a tangle of damp sheets, her honey-blonde hair spilling across my chest as she drifted to sleep in the circle of my arms. I could step in front of a moving train today, and I’d still die smiling.
Better yet, nothing Asher says or does can erase what’s etched into my soul now. He may have had her first, stumbling through those awkward teenage moments, but if I play my cards right, I’ll be the one she chooses when all the dust settles. I’ll be the name she whispers at eighty. And that’s what truly matters, isn’t it?
“Harper! Gina! I need your help!” Lance calls.
Harper makes a quick exit while Gina lingers, glaring at Asher before winking at me. “I know all. Just think about that, Asher Andrews.”
“You’re never going to get Harper,” Asher growls at me when Gina’s out of earshot. “You may have had a night with her, but I won’t let—”
“She’s no longer your concern, so stop it. You don’t get a say in her life anymore. Not when you walked out for a lesser version of Harper,” I cut him off.
“She can’t love you. It’ll never happen, no matter what you try. You’re nothing more than a rebound.”
I may have been wrong about nothing taking away what happened last night. Asher’s words hit like a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs and the swagger from my stance.
He walks away with that confident stride of his, shoulders squared, while I stand rooted to the spot, my earlier euphoria crumbling like sand between my fingers.
Could there be some truth buried in that verbal dagger he twisted? Is that why Harper panicked this morning?
She has to know this is more than just tangled sheets and racing heartbeats to me. That she’s the north star I’ve been navigating toward since we were teenagers, and if I’m just a temporary harbor for her storm-tossed heart, it’ll shatter me into pieces too small to ever find again.
Damn it, Asher.
Chapter 31
Kenzie
Iwoke up alone on the hard floor, only my jacket as a pillow, to find the spot beside me empty. When Gina’s bare feet padded across the hardwood floor toward the kitchen, I kept my eyes shut and my breathing even, knowing she was probably hunting for him too.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I climbed off the floor, the chill of the morning air raising goosebumps on my arms. After checking every inch of the main room, I finally spotted him—a dark silhouette pressed against the wall outside Harper’s bedroom, his white-knuckled fists clenched at his sides. His eyes, narrowed and unblinking, tracked her every movement as she hurried toward Gina, her messy hair and wrinkled clothes telling the whole story.
The hushed, urgent whispers of his conversation with Ford floated down the hallway like poisonous smoke. I strained tocatch every word, my fingernails digging half-moons into my palms.
Harper screwing Ford shouldn’t have twisted Asher’s face into that mask of jealousy. Not when my engagement ring glittered on my finger and our wedding is days away.
Why can’t anyone else see through her act? The way she tosses her hair, laughs with her head thrown back, those doe eyes that aren’t even that pretty? And why, after everything, does Asher’s gaze still follow her like she’s the sun and he’s dying of cold?
Asher turned away from Ford, his jaw clenched so tight I could see the muscle twitching beneath his stubbled skin. Ford stood frozen in place, mouth slightly open, color draining from his face like water circling a drain.
The silence between them crackled with electricity, making the hair on my arms stand up. Their hushed argument hung in the air like invisible smoke—toxic and suffocating. Everyone in our circle except Harper herself could see the truth written across Ford’s face: the way his eyes followed her, how his voice softened when he spoke her name, the protective stance he took whenever she entered a room.
And Asher says something to him that makes him white as a sheet.
I step into the kitchen where Asher leans against the counter, watching Harper with that half-lidded gaze I’ve come to hate. I wrap my arm around his neck, feeling the warmth of his skin against mine, and press my lips against his.
I make sure to let out a small moan, just loud enough for Harper to hear over the clink of coffee mugs. His stubble scratches my chin as I pull away. “I don’t know about anyone else, but I had an amazing night last night,” I say, winking at him while running my fingertip along the collar of his rumpled t-shirt.
Harper doesn’t even flinch, just continues stirring her coffee with mechanical precision. I slide past her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch, and yank open the fridge door. The bottles inside rattle, and her silence feels like sandpaper against my skin.
I grab the orange juice, squeezing the plastic bottle until my knuckles turn white. “Sex with someone you love is so much better than a one-night stand, don’t you think, Harper?”
Finally, she turns to me, scrunching her nose. “Where did you sleep last night?”
“I didn’t get much sleep, if you know what I mean.”
Harper reaches up and pulls down a stack of plates from the cabinet, setting them on the counter without saying a word. But I won’t going to let her silence deter me. “I know you don’t think I’m your friend, Harper, but I am.”
“You are, huh?”
