“Well, then, you must excuse me because I’m not going to have this conversation with you right now.”
Harper stoops over to grab the notebook that fell out of her lap and turns to head into one of the classrooms. Hers, I’m guessing.
Memories I haven’t thought about in years slam into me the second I step foot inside her classroom. Because ifthere’s one thing I remember, it’s the way Harper set up her classroom that summer before she started teaching.
I went with her—so I could hang up the things she couldn’t reach, she told me.
Pictures from books. Beanbag chairs. Letters. Numbers. Things she made to put on each desk to welcome the students.
So much of our lives back then was wrapped up in my job and playing hockey. Hell, it’s what brought the two of us to Nashville to start with. I loved getting to go with her that day and see how excited Harper was for the start of the school year.
But that’s not the woman standing in front of me now.
Harper is slipping into a black jacket and throwing a purse over her shoulder.
“That’s all you have to say to me?”
Harper ties the trench coat around her and holds on to the ends of the belt. Almost as if she’s trying to defend herself against me. It makes my heart ache even thinking about it.
“What do you want me to say? I have nothing left for you, Marcus.”
Harper moves to brush by me, but I grab her arm, stopping her in place. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave?”
“I guess I’m taking a page from your playbook.”
Chapter Four
HARPER
Shoving my key into the lock, I adjust the phone I’m holding between my cheek and shoulder. The ringing echoes before it goes to voicemail.
Shit. I was hoping Angie would answer. Shouldering open my door, I drop my bags on the counter and immediately grab the bottle of wine I picked up on the way home. I wish the parent night was on a Friday. I want to demolish this bottle of wine and not feel terrible, but I can’t. Maybe a glass or two since we have school tomorrow.
I’m reeling. In the matter of a few minutes, my entire world shifted on its axis. To run into him at my school of all places? It brings back that sick feeling in my stomach.
Daughters?
I pour myself a larger glass than necessary and take a hearty gulp. The bold taste of the red goes down smooth. Just what I needed tonight.
Kicking off my heels, I drop down onto the couch and prop my feet up.
My apartment is small, but it’s perfect for me. It’s an older building, meaning I have gorgeous, exposed-brickwalls. Hardwood floors are covered in colorful rugs. A small couch faces my TV, sandwiched between two bookshelves filled to the brim with books, knickknacks, and photos.
I moved here after Marcus left. I couldn’t stay in the apartment that we had together. The memories were too overwhelming to be there. That whole time was a blur. I was so swept up in my grief that it was hard to function most days.
I was cloaked in bitterness and regret. Held together by tape, tequila, and Oreos. It wasn’t until my sister and Angie visited that I was able to pull myself out of my sorrows.
Through tears and a few gallons of paint, we made this place what it is now. The first day of a new Harper—one that was able to stand on her own two feet.
My phone buzzes on the cushion next to me.
Angie. One of my closest friends since college. I dragged her to a hockey pep rally the day I met Marcus. Turns out, she also met her husband, Troy, Marcus’s teammate, that same day. The four of us were inseparable. Untilheleft all of us.
“Thank God,” I say by way of a hello.
“Hey, babe,” Angie’s chipper voice answers the phone. “Sorry, I was at dinner with my dads.”
“It’s Marcus.”
