But I’d caught her staring off into space during our psychology study sessions, her pen hovering over her notebook without writing anything. I’d seen her flinch when her phone buzzed with notifications she never seemed to check anymore. And I’d noticed the way she’d curl into my side when we were watching TV, holding on to me like I might disappear.
The worst part was knowing her dad’s poison had worked its way under her skin. She hadn’t said anythingdirectly, but I could feel the questions lurking behind her careful smiles. The way she’d watch me when she thought I wasn’t looking, like she was trying to solve some puzzle she couldn’t quite figure out.
It worried me more than I’d admitted to her.
I was falling hard for her, and I couldn’t bear the thought of her believing that I’d ever do anything to hurt her.
So I’d spent all my time being extra careful with her. Gentle touches, reassuring words, making sure she knew exactly where she stood with me. We’d found our rhythm again, but it felt too fragile.
“You’re overthinking again,” Harper said without looking up from her psychology textbook. We were spread out across my living room floor, surrounded by textbooks, highlighters, and enough coffee cups to fuel a small army. Rory was napping in her Pack ’n Play beside the couch, and I couldn’t focus on my work because my brain kept veering off to worries about Harper.
“I’m not overthinking,” I said, though I definitely was. “I’m concentrating on our presentation.”
She snorted. “You’ve been staring at the same slide for ten minutes.”
I glanced down at my laptop. She was right. I’d been stuck on our opening slide while my brain spiraled through worst-case scenarios about Harper’s emotional state.
“Just not sure this is the right font.” It was a weak deflection, but I went with it anyway.
Harper finally looked up, and the knowing expression on her face told me she wasn’t buying it. “Drew.”
The way she said my name—patient but tired of me worrying about her—made me close my laptop and give her my full attention.
“I’m fine,” she said before I could ask. “I promise. This thing with my dad is hard, but I’m okay. We’re okay.”
I wanted to believe her. Mostly, I did believe her. But despite her words, she still seemed more fragile since her dad’s visit, and I wanted to wrap her up and hide her from anyone who might hurt her again.
“If you insist.” I reached over to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “But if you need to talk about any of it?—”
“I don’t.” The quickness of her response confirmed my suspicions that she was still processing everything, especially when she refused to look at me while she said it. “Right now, I need to focus on finals. On our presentation and normal college stuff.”
“Okay,” I said, picking up my laptop again. “Normal college stuff it is.”
We worked in companionable silence for another hour, the kind of peaceful productivity that had become one of my favorite things about us. Harper highlighted passages and made notes in her neat handwriting, while I organized our presentation slides and tried not to get distracted by the way she chewed her bottom lip when she was concentrating.
Rory woke up a little later, and I was in the middle of feeding her when my phone buzzed with a text from Ava.
Ava
Can I come over? Need to talk to you about something.
I frowned at the message. Ava didn’t usually ask permission to come over—she just showed up.
Me
Sure. We’re just studying. Everything ok?
Ava
Be there in 10
It made me nervous that she didn’t respond to my question about if everything was okay. My twin senses were tingling, but I couldn’t pinpoint what felt off.
“Ava’s coming over,” I told Harper, settling Rory in my lap. “Probably wants to steal the baby again.”
Harper smiled, the first genuinely relaxed expression I’d seen from her all day. “Can’t blame her. This one’s pretty irresistible.” She reached over to stroke Rory’s cheek, and my daughter immediately turned toward her touch, babbling away.
The sight of them together still did things to my chest that I wasn’t entirely ready to examine. Harper had integrated into our little family unit so seamlessly that sometimes I forgot there had ever been a time when she wasn’t part of it.
