Chapter 24
Ford
Ilock up the shop just as the festival lights flicker to life across Main Street, casting honeyed amber and cool blue hues over the snow-dusted cobblestones.
Normally, I dread this time of year—the tinny carols blaring from storefronts, the plastic reindeer with their chipped antlers, the forced cheer.
Since Harper moved to Pittsburgh, the festivities have felt ostentatious and gaudy, like costume jewelry on a corpse.
But now that she’s back, I’m beginning to see it through her eyes—the beauty in how the light catches snowflakes mid-descent, the magic in children’s laughter echoing between old brick buildings.
A magic that I hope will draw her closer to me.
As I turn to leave, Asher looms too close, his wool peacoat reeking of expensive cologne, nearly getting knocked over when my shoulder catches his.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, his breath clouding between us in the December air.
“Locking up the store and going home,” I reply, expecting him to step aside. Instead, he stands his ground, a smirk playing on his lips, as if daring me to push past him. It almost makes me chuckle.
Asher crosses his arms, shaking his head. “No, I mean with Harper.”
“Whatever Harper does or doesn’t do is no longer your concern.”
“Trust me, I get how tempting it must be to go after my sloppy seconds. You’ve always envied what I had, but this is just desperate.”
He’s right about my jealousy over Harper, but it’s rooted in love, not competition. “Is it now?”
“Going after Harper to prove you’re as good as I am? Pathetic, Ford. Really.”
I nod. In a way, I’m like Kenzie. I was never truly friends with Asher. I stayed close to Harper, ready to help her when things fell apart.
“She’s vulnerable right now,” he continues. “It might seem fun at first, but she’s not a great lay, dude. Don’t waste your time.”
Fury ignites within me. I step into his space, glaring. “Don’t talk about her like that. In fact, don’t talk about her at all.”
“I’m just trying to warn—”
“She’s not yours anymore, so accept it and go live the fake-happy life you’ve built with Kenzie. Trust me, no one in this town thinks you two are anything but a perfect match.”
Asher knows exactly what I mean. His jaw twitches and his eyes narrow to slits, the festival lights catching the cold fury in them. The sentiment about Kenzie isn’t lost on him; it’s an insult aimed straight at his ego, that fragile glass ornament he’s spent years polishing.
He inches closer, the scent of bourbon mingling with his cologne as he shoves me back with both hands, my boots skidding on the icy cobblestones. It takes every ounce of restraint not to retaliate, my fingers curling into fists inside my jacket pockets, knuckles white with tension.
Around us, the murmur of onlookers grows as holiday shoppers pause, bags dangling from mittened hands, their breath visible in the frigid air. The last thing I need is a fight with Asher that could drive Harper away.
“You’re really close to losing your best man spot in my wedding, Ford.”
I chuckle and step closer, invading his space. “No, I’m not. Because I quit. Find someone else. If you can.”
“Are you serious?” Asher asks, disbelief etched across his face as I turn to walk away.
I glance back at him, shaking my head. “Everyone in this town knows Kenzie is just a runner-up to Harper. He’s marrying a woman who has spent most of her life trying to be his ex.”
“That’s not true!”
“Dude, she dyed her hair and wears the same clothes as Harper. She’s turning into her.”
He laughs dismissively, his breath forming little clouds that dissolve into the festival lights.
“They have similar styles.” He waves his hand in the air like he’s swatting away an annoying fly.
“So what if she dyed her hair the exact same shade of blonde? You’re reaching. Kenzie is not trying to be Harper.”
A ripple of laughter spreads through the crowd, the sound sharp against the backdrop of jingling Christmas music. Several onlookers exchange knowing glances, their eyes glittering with small-town schadenfreude.
I take a step closer, my boots crunching on the salt-crusted cobblestones.
“Okay, you want more? How about the fact she stole a man—if you can even call yourself that—from Harper? Then she swiped her wedding dream. You both took her money for the venue, and now you’re getting married on the date Harper circled in red on every calendar since she was sixteen. ”
“Why does everyone keep—”
“Because it’s true,” Brandon chimes in from the edge of the crowd, and I point at him. “You never canceled the wedding, and no money was refunded.”
“If anyone is trying to be someone, it’s Kenzie trying to be Harper. Just like she has since I’ve known her—probably even longer,” I say.
His nostrils flare like a bull’s before a charge, and he clenches his fists so tightly at his sides that his knuckles turn bone-white against the backdrop of festival lights, veins snaking up his forearms beneath the expensive wool of his peacoat.“And what about you? You’re not trying to be me?”
“I want what you had, but that doesn’t mean I want to be you. You lost the best thing you ever had, and you’re too blind to see it.”
“Or maybe I got rid of a cancer that dragged me down to be with someone who believes in me.”
“Believes in you? Harper supported you for years while you floundered. Not only would Kenzie never do that, she couldn’t.”
He swings at me, but I sidestep, letting him stumble to the ground. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“I know Kenzie will lose interest in you when she realizes Harper doesn’t want you anymore. You’re just a pawn in this game.”
“You think Harper’s over me? What we had was deeper than anyone knows. She’s not just going to move on—especially with someone like you.”
“You dulled her shine and resented her success. The truth is, you have no ambition. You talk a big game about ‘branding’ and ‘user experience,’ but you’re nothing but a failure.”
Asher laughs and takes another swing, but he misses. “And you’re such a success? You’ve never left Frosthaven Falls, and you took over a company that was already started by someone else. Yeah, such a big man.”
“I don’t live at home with my mom using my ex’s money to pay for my wedding,” I retort.
“You’re going to regret burning this bridge when Harper realizes she’s not over me and only used you to move on.”
I believe Harper when she says she doesn’t want Asher anymore.
I can still feel the imprint of her fingertips on my neck, the way her breath hitched when our lips met under the string lights in my kitchen.
Last night, when she pressed against me on the couch, her sweater sliding off one shoulder, her eyes never once clouded with doubt or someone else’s memory.
They stayed locked on mine, clear as winter sky and just as endless.
“She’s as over you as you are her, Asher.”
“Then she’s not over me because I’m not over her!”
His admission stuns me, and the crowd gasps. Asher looks around, suddenly aware of his words and the audience before storming off.
“He’s probably off to do damage control,” Betsy comments.
It’s likely true, but this changes everything.
My stomach twists into a cold, tight knot as I watch Asher’s retreating figure disappear into the crowd, his confession hanging in the frosty air like unmelted snowflakes.
If Asher isn’t really over Harper, will he try to win her back?
I picture him showing up at her door with that practiced smile that dimples his right cheek, arms laden with white peonies—her favorites.
Has he finally realized Kenzie is just a pale xerox of Harper, all the vibrancy washed out?
But worse—my heart hammers against my ribs at the thought—will Harper’s eyes light up the way they used to when she sees him? Will she think she can have everything she once dreamed of, circled in red pen, if golden-boy Asher wants her back?