Page 37 of Freefall

Luke raises a dubious brow. “Dammit, Nate. If you fucked our photographer, I’m gonna be pissed.”

I don’t answer, which only makes his brows inch higher.

“Jesus, man. What the fuck?” He lets his forehead fall into his waiting palm.

“It’s not what you think.” That’s as much of the truth as I’m willing to give him. I never told Luke or Emory about Harper when we were dating. They knew I was seeing someone, but the caveman in me wanted to keep her all to myself. No names, no pictures. Just that one day I was on cloud nine and the next I was a shell of myself.

Despite my sister’s various attempts to get me to open up, I still didn’t talk about it after she left. I consider telling Luke the truth now, but I don’t want to ask him to keep secrets from Emory. Not after he worked so hard to gain her trust after the last douchebag she dated desecrated it.

“I think it’s exactly what I think, dude.”

“I’m not fucking her,” I say. Also, the truth.

Unfortunately, Luke is smarter than I give him credit for. He shakes his head, those stupid dimples appearing in his cheeks. “I never said you were. I said fucked past tense.”

“Do you really think you’re the right person to be talking about life choices? You snuck around with my goddamn sister for months!”

His smirk disappears. “I don’t regret a second of it. Besides, you’ve since given us your blessing.” He props his elbow up on the door jamb. “Not that we needed it.”

“Whatever. I’m just…I’m not waiting in the fucking car.”

“Fine,” Luke says, and a little spark of relief blooms in my chest, thinking he’s going to drop it. “But we’re not done talking about this.”

Fuck.

By the time we pull up to the beach parking lot—the same one where Harper and I met a week ago—I’m gripping the steering wheel like it’s my lifeline.

“Damn, Wells. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing.” I open my hands, flexing them to relieve the tension, but it doesn’t help.

Luke eyes me suspiciously. “Okay, man. Whatever you say.”

Harper isn’t late this time. She’s sitting at the picnic bench, looking at her phone, and for some reason, that makes my blood boil. She couldn’t bother to be on time when she was meeting me, but for Luke she’s here, bright-eyed and fresh-faced, her long blonde hair twisted into a braid, just waiting for him.

I take a deep breath and count to ten. Then I mentally catalog my intrusive thoughts so I can discredit them one by one. One—she didn’t know she was meeting me that time she was late. And she saw a…bunny. Two—she thought she was meeting Emory and Luke. Three—Luke is happily engaged to my sister. Four—she’s not mine. She can be early or fucking late for whoever she damn well pleases.

I take another cleansing breath, as the therapist I saw once told me to. She also told me to count to ten and discredit intrusive thoughts. She might have given me more strategies if I’d gone back, but I didn’t. I had just started at my dad’s company, and I got busy; otherwise, I would have.

Maybe.

Probably not.

As we walk up the pathway, I’m pleased to see the slight panic in Harper’s expression. She clearly wasn’t expecting to see me today. Luke walks ahead of me, stretching out his hand to greet her as soon as we’re close enough.

“Hi, Harper. I’m Luke. It’s nice to meet you.”

He flashes that pretty-boy dimple again, and she smiles, taking his hand in hers. What the fuck is wrong with me because now I want to cut my best friend’s hand off for touching what’s mine.

She’s not yours.

“Nice to put a face to the name,” she says brightly as she finally lets go of his hand.

Luke looks back at me, and I swear his right eye twitches. “You’ve, uh, met Nate.”

That panicked expression reappears for a moment before she smiles again. She’s probably wondering how much Luke knows, and I could set her mind at ease, but I won’t.

Why should I make this easy for her?