16. Harper
SIXTEEN
Harper
Harper’s Pool House
1:01 PM
The afternoon sun warms my skin while I enjoy my seat by the pool. My legs are tucked under me on a cushioned lounge chair, and I have my book open on my chest, but I haven't read a word.
It’s early March, the time of year when Birmingham can’t decide if it’s winter or spring. The days teeter between brisk and balmy, but today, the universe seems to be throwing me a bone with a warm, golden Sunday on my day off. It's a rare gift, and one I intend to savor—even if my mind refuses to let me fully relax.
The kiss. It's all I can think about.
The delicious, forbidden, all-consuming, goddamned kiss.
I can still feel the press of his lips on mine, the way his hands framed my face like I was something fragile.
For one fleeting moment, it was perfect. Until reality came rushing back, reminding me that Jonah isn’t the guy who settles down or follows through. And I’m not a girl who has meaningless sex.
And yet, here I am, replaying it in my head like a broken record, playing the what-if game in my mind.
Like, what the fuck is my problem? Why are we here again? No. No. No.
I must be sending him the wrong message for him to keep going there with me.
I take a sip of my iced tea. The glass sweats in my hand as I try to focus on the clear blue water instead of the memory of Jonah’s mouth on mine.
I liked it—more than I should have. But that’s the problem. Liking it means wanting more, and wanting more from Jonah is a recipe for heartbreak. It was the same two years ago, and nothing about him has changed.
Has it?
A sudden, familiar voice jolts me from my thoughts. “I knew I’d find you out here, looking all pensive and tragic. What are you reading, Missy?”
I glance up to see Mason strolling through the gate, a shopping bag dangling from one hand and a pair of oversized sunglasses perched on his nose. “You didn’t text,” I say, though I’m not surprised. Mason has a way of showing up unannounced, like a fabulous hurricane of unsolicited advice.
“You’ll forgive me,” he says breezily, dropping onto the lounge chair next to mine. “Besides, I come bearing gifts.” He pulls a small bottle of rosé from the bag and waves it like a peace offering.
I can’t help but laugh. “Fine. You’re forgiven.”
He kicks off his shoes and stretches out, his movements as fluid and dramatic as always. “Now, start talking, sister. Your aura is all ‘woman in turmoil and I demand answers.”
I roll my eyes but set my glass down. “It’s nothing. I'm just a fucking train wreck in this city. I never should have taken this assignment.”
Mason raises an eyebrow, lowering his sunglasses for dramatic effect. “Jonah? Is that what we are talking about here? Because I know the other perk that comes with being here is my unannounced drop-ins.”
I hesitate, but Mason has been my sounding board for years. If anyone can help me make sense of this mess, it’s him. “He kissed me.”
The words hang in the air, and Mason’s eyes widen. “Stop it right now. When? Where? How much tongue? And did he stop at the lips on that pretty face, or are we talking kisses everywhere…?”
“Mason!” I shake my head, but a reluctant smile tugs at me. “Jesus! You're more of a pig than Jonah!"
"Go on."
"Last night. On his balcony. And it stopped there. I stopped it. He is my friend, and that is where it ends. No blurred lines. No 'friends with benefits'”.
“Oh, honey,” Mason says, leaning closer. “If you’re smiling about it like that when you think about it, it is absolutely not where it ends. Now, give me more details. Why are you so stingy?”
I sigh, leaning back in my chair. “It was just—ugh. I don’t even know. He kissed me, and for a second, it felt like everything. But then I remembered who he is, and I couldn’t do it. But, God, did I want to. Mason! What is wrong with me?!”
Mason tilts his head, studying me. “Nothing is wrong with you, honey. You know unattached sex isn't a sin, right?”
"Stop it. That isn't what this is about. I'm not interested in just having sex. It's so much more complicated than that."
"I can see that."
“I don't know what my problem is,” I exclaim, throwing my hands up. “He’s Jonah. The guy who’s sworn off commitment, who treats relationships like hobbies. And I’m leaving Birmingham in two months. It’s not like this could go anywhere, anyway. But I don't want that, and neither does he, so that's a moot point. Just saying.”
“True,” Mason says, his tone softer now. “But there is a reason why you're going through all of this turmoil about it. Harper, when are you going to realize you do have feelings for him? Why do you push it away so much?”
I frown, his words hitting closer to home than I’d like. “It’s not that simple. I don’t want to ruin our friendship. We just started fixing things, and a casual fuck could blow it all up.”
Mason taps a finger against his chin. “Or it could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. What’s scarier, Harper? Ruining the friendship, or realizing you might actually want more?”
I don’t have an answer for that. Instead, I stare at the ripples in the pool, the sunlight glinting off the water like tiny shards of glass. “He’s not that guy, Mason.”
Mason shrugs, swirling the last bit of his drink. “Okay, so maybe you’re overthinking this. What else is new?”
I roll my eyes, but he’s undeterred.
“Listen, Harp. I’m not saying Jonah’s some closet romantic planning your happily-ever-after, but you don’t know what it means if you’re sitting here playing the ‘What If’ Olympics instead of, I don’t know, talking to him. Or seeing where this goes. Maybe you’re making yourself crazy for nothing.”
“Or maybe I’m saving myself a disaster.”
“Or maybe,” he says, leaning forward with a smirk, “you’re being a control freak. Which is fine, but let me remind you of one little detail: you’re out of here in, what, two months? Worst-case scenario, you hook up, it fizzles, and you leave Birmingham with a couple of great orgasms and a good story. Best-case scenario... well, who knows? Either way, you’re not stuck here long enough to make it a big deal. So why not enjoy it?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple, babe. You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to read his mind or assume you know what he’s thinking. Just explore it. Or don’t. But sitting here spiraling? Not your best look.”
His words are like an open-handed slap to my face, as always. That's why I love this man. He doesn't hold back, and sometimes, I need that.
Jonah’s Condo
4:18 PM
The condo door swings open, and Jonah’s standing there in a plain black T-shirt and jeans, barefoot and holding a spatula like he’s been interrupted mid-flip. His brow furrows, then lifts in surprise when he sees me.
“Harper?” he says, his voice carrying equal parts confusion and curiosity. “What are you doing here?”
I hold up the Yeti water bottle in my hand. “Saw this at the gym. I knew it was yours and thought you might need it.”
His gaze flicks to the bottle, then back to me. “Man, I knew I forgot something this morning. I went early, and my brain wasn’t fully functioning yet. Thanks for grabbing it.”
“No problem,” I say, feeling a little self-conscious now. “I didn’t mean to interrupt—just thought I’d drop it off.”
Jonah’s lips curve into an easy smile, the kind that always makes it hard to tell what’s running through his head. “You’ve got perfect timing. I’m grilling burgers for Lila and me for an early dinner. She conks out early but was craving a cookout. So, it’s an early dinner for us. And I made extra. I’ve got a juicy one with your name on it. Come on in.”
“Oh, I don’t want to impose,” I start, but he’s already stepping aside, gesturing me in.
“You’re not imposing,” he insists. “It’s just burgers, Harper. Besides, Lila’s been looking forward to some company who isn’t me.”
That earns a laugh as I step inside. “Well, if you’re sure…”
“Positive,” he says, taking the water bottle from me and heading toward the kitchen. “Lila’s on the balcony soaking up some of this amazing spring sun. Make yourself at home.”
I follow him through the open floor plan to the sliding glass doors that lead to the balcony. The sight of it pulls me right back to last night. It’s the same spot where, not even twenty-four hours ago, his lips were on mine in this exact spot.
“Harper, you coming?” Jonah’s voice breaks through the memory, snapping me back to the present. He slides the door open and steps aside, gesturing for me to follow. The corner of his mouth quirks up, curious but casual, as if he’s completely unaware of the storm still brewing in my chest.
“Yeah, sorry,” I mutter, shaking off the thought as I step outside. The balcony feels different in the light of day, the tension of last night replaced by the easy warmth of the afternoon sun.
Lila is stretched out in a chair, a glass of iced water in hand and a blanket draped over her lap despite the warm weather. She perks up when she sees me.
“Harper! I didn’t know you were coming by.”
“Neither did I,” I admit with a smile. “I just got done at the gym and wanted to bring Jonah's water bottle by. I'm not staying.”
"Jonah would forget his head if it weren't attached. And you better stay. Too much testosterone running through this place, and I'm stuck."
"I'm sweaty, and y'all are about to eat?—_
She cuts me off, "I said stay. I mean it. Sit down,” she says, motioning to the chair beside her. “He’s been driving me crazy with his grilling experiments, and I need someone besides him to talk to.”
“Hey,” Jonah protests from the grill. “Those ‘experiments’ have been excellent, thank you very much.”
“Sure,” Lila drawls. “If you like charcoal-flavored everything.”
I laugh, settling into the chair as Jonah feigns offense, flipping a burger with exaggerated flair. “You’ve got jokes, huh? Just wait till you taste this masterpiece.”
Lila rolls her eyes, and I can’t help but enjoy the easy back-and-forth between them. There’s a lightness here, a sense of family that feels… comfortable. It’s odd that I never even knew he had a sister before she landed at the ER on my shift. I wonder what else I don't know about Jonah.
The burgers turn out to be as good as Jonah promised—perfectly cooked, despite Lila’s teasing. We eat outside, the three of us trading stories and laughing as the sun dips lower in the sky, painting the patio in soft, golden light.
“So,” Lila says at one point, smirking at her brother. “What’s the over-under on you actually cleaning that grill tonight?”
Jonah points a fry at her. “You’re lucky I haven’t banned you from my house.”
“You wouldn’t survive without me here to keep you in check,” she fires back, grinning.
“Debatable,” Jonah mutters, but the affection in his voice is unmistakable.
As the plates empty and the conversation slows, Lila stretches and stifles a yawn. “Well, I hate to leave the party, but I’m beat. Grilling must’ve exhausted me just watching. Even though I'm feeling a hundred percent better than yesterday, I have a short window of alertness.”
Jonah gives her a look. “You’re just looking for an excuse to avoid dishes.”
“Absolutely,” Lila says, standing and gathering her blanket. “Thanks for the confirmation.”
She winks at me as she heads inside. “Harper, good luck dealing with him solo. Thanks for sticking around with me.”
“Hey!” Jonah calls after her, but his laughter softens the mock outrage. He turns back to me as the door slides shut behind her.
“Guess it’s just us. Again,” he says, his tone lighter than I expected.
“Guess so,” I reply, leaning back in my chair, trying to hide my unease. I know we need to talk. That’s why I went to the gym hoping to run into him and then came here afterwards.
His eyes linger on me for just a second too long before he looks away, reaching for his glass on the table.
The easy rhythm of the afternoon falters for a beat, silence settling between us as twilight deepens. The air has cooled, tinged with the faint scent of grilled burgers and the soft hum of distant traffic. I sip my drink, trying to ignore how hyperaware I am of the space between us, the unspoken weight of last night pressing down like a third presence on the balcony.
Jonah clears his throat, his fingers drumming once on the table before he speaks. “So… about last night.”
My chest tightens, a mix of relief and apprehension flooding me at the same time. “I came here hoping to talk about it,” I admit quietly, meeting his gaze. "I went to the gym today hoping I might run into you," I sheepishly admit.
"I'm sorry I missed you. If you had called, I definitely would have come to let you beat me at racquetball."
"Well, that would have defeated the hope of 'running into you'".
“Yeah, well…” He exhales, his smile faint but tinged with uncertainty. “Good point. I would like to talk about. The kiss, I mean. Of course, if you want to.”
I nod, setting my glass down. “I mean, yes and no. I don't know what to say, exactly, but I want to handle it better than I did last time.”
He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, his focus entirely on me. “Look, Harper, I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, but I need to know… are we okay? Did I screw things up?”
His words throw me for a loop—not because Jonah doesn’t have depth, but because he rarely shows it. He’s the guy who’s always got a joke, always ready to keep things easy and light.
He’s meeting me halfway, no deflection, no armor. It’s unexpected and disarming in the most alarming way.
Maybe that’s what’s been throwing me off since last night—that pull I can’t seem to ignore, no matter how hard I try. He seems to be trying to remove some of those masks with me. Or has he just matured since the last time I lived here?
“We’re fine,” I say softly, though the words feel heavier than they should. “It’s just, honestly, I don't know what to say.”
He nods as if he expected that answer but hoped for something simpler. “I don’t want to ruin what we have,” he says after a pause, his voice low. “But I’m not going to lie, Harper. That kiss… it wasn’t nothing.”
The honesty in his words steals my breath for a moment. I glance away, my fingers fidgeting with the edge of my glass. “It wasn’t nothing for me either,” I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.
He leans back slightly as if my admission throws him off balance. For a moment, the tension between us feels almost unbearable. The weight of everything unsaid hangs in the cooling air, and I don't feel the need to fix it or fill it or explain it away.
“I don’t know what this is,” I say, meeting his gaze with a mix of determination and trepidation. “But I know one thing—I feel like this pretending none of it was nothing, or all of it was nothing, or, I don't know what I'm saying. I'm an idiot.”
Jonah’s lips twitch into a half-smile, leaning back slightly as his gaze stays locked on mine. “Can I just say I’m terrible at pretending?”
I raise an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at my lips despite myself. “Oh, are you?”
He winces dramatically, clutching his chest. “What? I am! What you see is what you get.”
“That’s actually true,” I say, folding my arms and leaning back in my chair. “It’s one of the things I admire about you. But maybe ‘denial’ is a better word than pretending.”
“Fair enough. No more denying,” he says, his voice dropping slightly. “I want you. No more sitting here awkwardly, pretending—or denying—that’s not the case. The question is, can we try a redo of last night with a better ending since we are no longer in denial? I won't deny my feelings, and you won't deny my kiss…”
“An alternate ending,” I muse, pretending to consider it. “With no denial? That does sound intriguing.”