"And why is today going to be so bad?"
I blow out a long breath and tip my head back against the headboard. "Well. Remember how I took on the research of this case so I could control the story and protect Ace and his family?"
"Hmm." She presses her lips together. She wasn't a fan of this idea. She told me so at the time, in explicit detail, using words like "reckless" and "self-sabotaging," and “Harper, you are going to get yourself fired.”
"Well, it kind of backfired. And now I'm in a situation with my boss."
Her eyebrow arches. "What kind of situation?"
I chew on the inside of my lip. "I owe him a favor. And he's cashing it in. In the form of a date tonight, so his dying father will feel confident enough to sign the company over to him early."
Her mouth falls open. Her blue eyes go wide, and then the spatula hits the blanket.
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up.What?"
"Fucked up, isn't it?"
"Uhh. Yeah? Extremely." She throws her hands up. "I told you not to get involved, Harper. I said those exact words. I said do not sacrifice your career for a man who doesn't even know you're doing it."
I pick at a loose thread on my comforter. "I know. I couldn't help myself. I hurt him so bad, Emma. I destroyed him. And if I can stop even one more bad thing from landing on his doorstep, I have to. I have to."
She places her hand on my shoulder. "Harper. Ace is a grown man. He will be just fine on his own. Hell—" She tilts her head. "I've seen how well he's doing with that bull riding craziness. The man is thriving."
I blink at her. "You've stalked my ex?"
She has the audacity to giggle. "Yeah. Harper, he's easy to look at. My God."
I slap her arm. "Not helpful, Emma. I know he's fucking gorgeous."
She nods, completely unrepentant.
"You don't owe him anything. It's been six years, Harper. I'm sure he's over it." She pauses, and something shifts in her expression, a flicker of hesitation. "Well, actually. I kind of know he is. Stop making decisions that fuck you over to protect him. You've done enough. You need to let that man go and ride off into the sunset."
My stomach drops. "What do you mean?"
She huffs, reaches behind her, and pulls her phone from the waistband of her bike shorts. She taps the screen twice and holds it out to me.
"He got tagged in this last night, Harper. He's fine. See?"
I snatch the phone from her hand.
It's a reel. Shaky camera, neon bar light, a crowd of cowboy hats and beer bottles. And there is Ace. My Ace. Except he's not mine anymore, and the proof is the pretty blonde cowgirl running her tongue up his abs while whiskey rolls down his skin.
The crowd is cheering. He's smiling. His hat, my hat, the one I bought him, is tipped back on his head, and his hand is hovering near her waist like he can't quite decide whether to pull her closer or not.
"I’m going to be sick," I mutter.
But I replay it. Once. Twice. Three times, I’m pressing on a bruise to see if it still hurts. It does. It hurts so much I can barely breathe.
Was this before or after he texted me? Did he send me that birthday message and then take this girl home and pretend she was me? Did he close his eyes when she touched him and see my face?
He's into it. I can see it. That spark behind his eyes, the way his jaw tightens, the way he leans into her just slightly. I know that look. I cataloged every version of that look.
He used to save that look for me. Usually, right before he'd grin and then chase me around the ranch until I let him catch me.
"Harper." Emma's voice pulls me back. She's watching me with that careful expression again. "This is good. It means you can stop worrying about him, right? That's what you wanted, isn't it?"
I can't stop the tears. They spill over before I can blink them back, rolling hot and fast down my cheeks, and I shake my head because my throat is too tight for words.
