Page 94 of How To Not Need You

“Do you want me to come to you or do you want to talk me through the crime scene first?”

I picture her with keys already in hand, shoes on, Leo probably half-buckled in the car, running a tactical operation from the curb in front of her house.

“Neither,” I manage, which is a lie and we both know it. “I just…”

The words fumble and tangle, tripping over themselves. I try again.

“I went to Jake’s to get my charger. Only Megan was there. Naked. Well, not naked but you know. Wet.”

Harper doesn’t gasp or freak out or anything. There’s just this small, dangerous pause, like the calm before a storm.

“Did Jake know she was going to be there?”

“I…” My brain skips ahead, rewinds, skips again. It hadn’t even occurred to me to ask that question.

“He started a shift this morning. Megan looked like she was just I don’t know! Showering? I didn’t wait for the full explanation, I just…” The steering wheel in my hands feels like it could snap.

“Liv.” Harper says my name like she’s worried about my mental state right now, which she definitely should be. “Listen to me.”

I roll my eyes, not that she can see me but my satisfaction is the same. She sighs at my silence.

“Breathe. Just for one second, assume this might be a Megan Thing. Not a Jake Thing.”

I hate how much sense that makes. It’s so much easier to believe the simple, awful version: that the keys mean nothing, that they weren’t a monumental point in our relationship and everyone is quietly having sex with their exes whenever nobody’s looking.

“Harper,” I say. “She answered the door in a towel.” It comes out so sharp that I momentarily consider apologising for my tone.

Harper doesn’t buy it. “Did you see Jake?”

“No, I told you already, he’s at the station.”

“So let’s assume, for the sake of argument, Megan needed a shower, or needed to pick something up, or”

“She has her own house!”

“Maybe her hot water died. Maybe she spilled something on herself. Maybe Tilly left something there she needed. I don't know, Liv. That's the point. Neither do you.”

I hate that she’s making sense.

I hate even more that some tiny, rational part of my brain has been trying to make the same argument since I drove away.

Megan could have a reason. Jake could have no idea she's there. There could be an explanation.

And somehow that possibility scares me almost as much as there not being one.

God. WHO AM I?!

“Look,” Harper's voice softens. “You are allowed to panic. That is your process. If you need to scream or throw something, you can.”

I groan, the sound barely getting out of my chest before turning into a laugh. Like my body can’t even commit to one emotional state at a time.

“I sound crazy.” I say it to the dashboard, but it’s for her.

She doesn’t deny it. Thank god. I couldn’t survive a gentle pep talk right now.

“You sound like you care about someone and are terrified because you think it’s going to go wrong. Congratulations on being a human woman in the twenty-first century.”

“Ugh.”