My stomach drops.
Charli twists toward me so fast that she nearly elbows Harleigh in the head. “What scene?”
Harleigh props herself up on one elbow, clearly enjoying this. “While you were inside, beating the female fans off Bryce, I went searching for her. And, lo and behold, there she was.” She gestures to me. “I found her out front, in the middle of a passionate conversation with Waylon. Standing close. Intense eye contact.”
Charli’s gaze drills into me. “Why would you leave the bar with Waylon?”
“I didn’t,” I say quickly. “I just went out for air. He happened to be in the parking lot.”
Harleigh raises an eyebrow. “Convenient.”
Charli crosses her arms. “So, what were you two talking so passionately about?”
I hesitate. Just for a fraction of a second too long.
They both notice.
“Shelby. Spill,” Charli demands.
I exhale slowly. “We talked about the past,” I say. “He … he doesn’t remember what happened between us.”
Her expression hardens instantly. “Bullshit.”
I wince.
“Charli—” Harleigh begins.
“No,” Charli says, sitting up straighter. “Fuck that. He can’t just invalidate your feelings like that.”
“The last thing I want to do is defend him,” I say, my voice tight. “But he seemed genuinely upset with himself.”
Harleigh tilts her head. “Maybe he was being honest.”
Charli huffs. “Or he’s a really good actor. It’s easy to pretend ignorance so you don’t have to take responsibility for your own actions.”
“Maybe.” Harleigh concedes. “But he did seem pretty confused by how hostile we all were toward him.”
She’s not wrong. I know she’s not wrong, and that makes it worse.
Harleigh’s lips curve into a slow smile. “Also … he’s a sexy daddy.”
I choke on absolutely nothing.
Charli stares at her. “Harleigh.”
“What?” she says innocently. “The eyes. The beard. The broody cowboy vibes.”
Charli rolls her eyes, but doesn’t deny it. “Did it make a difference?” she asks me instead. “Hearing him say he didn’t remember?”
I swallow. My throat feels tight. “I don’t know,” I admit. “Because it doesn’t change the fact that I remember every single detail.”
The words sit heavy in the air.
“It sucks,” I continue quietly, “that I’m the only one who does. I thought it was a shared moment. One he regretted maybe, but a shared one all the same. And now it’s just … mine. A singular memory.”
Harleigh’s arm slides around me, warm and steady. She pulls me in without a word, pressing my cheek against her shoulder.
“I think he might make it up to you,” she says gently. “If you give him a shot.”
