Chapter 16
HARLOW
Friday nights used to mean something when you were part of a big family.
From my earliest memories, Fridays were family nights filled with junk food and games.
As we got older, it would change. Last year, we were piling into someone’s car with the windows down and the music too loud, driving to wherever the party was.
Syn would do my makeup in the bathroom while I complained that she was using too much eyeliner, and Jax threatened any guy who came near Syn or me.
Now Friday nights meant me sitting cross-legged on the couch in my comfy clothes, a half-empty bag of Sour Patch Kids balanced on my knee, a spoonful of Nutella, and my phone propped against a throw pillow while Syn’s face filled the screen.
“…and the lighting is shit right now, but once we get the fixtures in, it’s going to be incredible.” Syn was pacing through an empty storefront, her phone camera bouncing with each step. “There’s even a back room we can use for private sessions. You know, for the clients who cry.”
“Do a lot of people cry during tattoos?”
She chuckled. “You would be surprised.” She flipped the camera around to show her face, a playful smirk playing at her lips. “Speaking of which, you’re going to let me do your next tattoo, right?”
I choked on a Sour Patch Kid. “Excuse me?” I hadn’t planned on getting any more tattoos, because I was one of those people who cried when they got one.
“Come on, Har. I need guinea pigs.” She said it like she was asking me to try a new restaurant, not permanently mark my body. “You already have one. What’s one more?”
“The one I have is hidden on my back where no one can see it.” I pointed at her through the screen. “Also, I was mildly intoxicated when I got it.”
“Perfect. I’ll get you intoxicated first.”
“Syn.” I rolled my eyes, but we both knew I was going to do it.
“Harlow.” She dragged out my name the same way I dragged out hers, mocking me. “I’ve been practicing on grapefruit for months.”
“I’m not a grapefruit.”
“No, you’re way easier. Grapefruits don’t hold still. They try to roll all over the place.”
I laughed, the sound echoing through the empty living room. I missed her. I missed the way she could make anything feel like an adventure, even bad decisions.
“Fine,” I heard myself say. “But something small and somewhere I can hide it if I hate it.”
Syn’s face lit up like I’d handed her a winning lottery ticket. “You’re going to love it. Promise.”
I shifted on the couch, tucking my feet underneath me.
“So how’s everything else going?” I asked, desperate to fill the quiet with something other than my own thoughts. “Is Jax still being super protective? I figured he’d have the whole town under surveillance by now.”
Syn snorted. “Please. My brother is barely functioning as a human being right now.” She flopped onto what looked like a folding chair, the only furniture in the empty shop.
“Between hockey, a new wife, and a baby who apparently thinks sleep is optional, he’s running on, like, two brain cells.
I don’t think he’d notice if I opened a strip club instead of a tattoo parlor. ”
The mental image of Jax stumbling around in a sleep-deprived haze made me smile.
“How’s Kailyn?”
“Loud.” Syn’s expression softened. “But cute.”
“You’re such a softie.”
“I will end you.”
I grabbed another Sour Patch Kid and shoved it into my mouth, letting the sour-then-sweet dissolve on my tongue.
“So.” She drew the word out, loading it with implication. “Why are you home on a Friday night?”
I gestured at my surroundings. “Where else would I be?”
“I don’t know. Out? Having fun? Being young and irresponsible?” She leaned closer to the camera. “I figured with Jax gone, you would finally be unlocked. Free range Harlow. No more protective big brother breathing down everyone’s neck.”
The laugh that escaped me was bitter. “Yeah, well. Jax may have left, but apparently Owen got the memo to step into his shoes.”
Syn’s lip curled, and her eyebrows drew together. She looked genuinely pissed on my behalf. “Are you serious?”
“Dead serious.” I pulled my knees up to my chest and hugged them. “He literally told his entire hockey team I was off-limits. No one will even talk to me anymore.”
“That’s so fucked up.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What’s his deal?” Syn shook her head, black hair swishing.
I didn’t have an answer for that. I had been asking myself the same question for weeks, and all I’d gotten was a headache.
“Have you heard from Trystan and Cam lately?”
Syn’s expression shifted. “No, actually. I tried calling them yesterday, but they didn’t answer. Their location shows they’re in France right now.”
“Must be nice.”
“They’re living the dream.” Syn didn’t say it with any bitterness, just matter-of-fact acceptance. “Speaking of which, Owen’s supposed to come visit during winter break. You should come too.”
My heart did a traitorous little stutter at the mention of his name. “I don’t know if that’s…”
“Come on.” Syn grinned, practically begging. “It’ll be fun. You can spend time with Kailyn. I can tattoo you against your will.”
I smiled because I didn’t have the energy to explain why spending winter break in close proximity to Owen sounded like both the best and worst idea anyone had ever had.
A knock at the door made me jump.
“Oh, my food’s here,” I said, shifting as I unfolded myself from the couch. “I’ll talk to you later, okay?”
“You’d better. Love you, bitch.”
“Love you too.”
I ended the call and padded toward the front door, my socked feet silent on the hardwood. The house was dark except for the lamp I left on in the living room.
I was halfway there when I stopped.
Wait.
I never ordered food. I was in the middle of it when Syn called and interrupted me.
My hand froze on the doorknob as my heart pounded against my ribs. The knock came again, three sharp raps that echoed through the empty house.
“Who is it?”
“Pizza delivery.”
My stomach fluttered. I knew that voice the way I knew the lyrics to every song I ever loved.
I yanked the door open.
Owen stood on my porch, backlit by the porch light, holding a pizza box like it was a peace offering.
He was wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up and matching black joggers.
There was something almost nervous in the way he was standing as his weight shifted to one foot, free hand shoved in his pocket.
This was the first time I could remember Owen ever knocking. He didn’t need to because he was part of the family. He lived here.
“What are you doing here?”
“Told you.” He lifted the pizza box slightly. “Delivery.”
“I didn’t order anything.”
“I know.” A cocky smile tugged at his lips. “Consider it an unsolicited gift or a peace offering. Maybe a bribe. Whatever works for you.”
I crossed my arms, suddenly very aware that I was wearing my shortest pair of Nike pro shorts and an oversized sweatshirt with no bra.
My hair was tied up in a messy bun that was more bird’s nest than bun, but it wasn’t like Owen hadn’t seen me at my worst. He practically lived here every summer since I moved in, and honestly, probably before that, too.
“How did you even know I was home?” I rolled my eyes.
“Lucky guess.” He shrugged. “Also, your car’s in the driveway and every light in the house is off except one. Classic home alone on a Friday night vibes.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Stalker vibes, you mean.”
“Concerned friend vibes.”
“We are not friends.”
His expression flickered as the words hit him like they had cut deeper than I intended. But he recovered quickly, that easy smile sliding back into place.
“Then consider this a diplomatic mission.” He held the pizza box out toward me. “I come bearing gifts and good intentions. The least you can do is let me in before the pizza gets cold.”
“I could take the pizza and close the door in your face.”
“You could.” He didn’t lower the box. “But we both know you won’t.”
The confidence in his tone should have annoyed me, but it didn’t. It made something warm curl deep inside me.
The wind picked up, blowing through the front door and raising goosebumps along my legs. Owen’s gaze dropped before snapping back to my face.
“You’re freezing.” He nodded toward my legs.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re shivering.”
“Maybe I’m shivering with anger.”
His laugh was low and genuine. “Harlow. Please. Just… let me in.”
Every rational part of my brain was screaming at me to say no, to close the door and lock it behind me. To protect whatever was left of my dignity, my heart, and my sanity.
But the house was so quiet behind me. So empty, and he was standing there with pizza. I was tired of being alone.
I stiffened my spine and squared my shoulders, suddenly seeing this as an opportunity to negotiate my terms. “Only if you agree to back off.”
He cocked a questioning brow, and his jaw flexed.
“You have to agree to stop trying to be big brother number three,” I said, giving him a knowing look. The one that said we’ve slept together, you can’t be my brother. “I think that ship has sailed.”
His jaw worked like he was chewing on words he didn’t want to swallow.
“You have to step back and let me live my own life,” I continued. “And date or whatever with whoever I want to and trust that I can make my own decisions.”
“Define the whatever…” Something darkened in his eyes.
I gave him a look. “No. Agree, or I’m taking the pizza and shutting the door.” I really didn’t want to do that. I was lonely, and honestly, this big house was a little scary at night.
He hesitated for so long I thought I was actually going to have to follow through, but then he finally spoke. “I will do my best.”
It wasn’t exactly the enthusiastic agreement I’d been hoping for, but it was something.
“Okay.” I stepped back, opening the door wider. “Come in.”