Chapter 14
14
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I t feels like we’ve both taken our first real breath in days. Harper sits curled on the porch swing, knees tucked under her chin, absently tracing the wood pattern with her fingertips. She’s calmer but still too caught in her pretty little head. I watch her from the kitchen window, noting the tiny crease of worry that hasn’t faded since she escaped Micah. I’d give anything to wipe it all away.
Glancing toward the pantry, I see a dusty bottle of tequila tucked at the back, still unopened. An idea forms, and I reach out, pulling the bottle into the sunlight and turning it thoughtfully in my hands.
“You know …” I say casually, stepping onto the porch and letting the tequila bottle swing from my fingertips as I move toward her. I lean against the railing, blocking her view of the backyard. “I think this calls for a celebration.”
Harper looks up at me, eyebrows arching skeptically, and then she notices the bottle. “Tequila, Calloway? Didn’t peg you as the type.”
I grin, shrugging. “You clearly haven’t been paying attention.”
She gives me a laugh, shaking her head. “Day drinking won’t solve my problems.”
“No,” I agree, tilting my head playfully. “But it’s damn good at distracting you from them.”
Her smile becomes warmer and more genuine. “Fair point. You’re definitely an expert in distractions.”
“Trust me, Harp,” I say. “I have something in mind.”
She tilts her head curiously, glancing between me and the tequila. “And what exactly would that be?”
I extend my free hand toward her. “Come on. You’ll see.”
Harper hesitates only briefly, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she slips her hand into mine. I pull her to her feet, then reluctantly let go, already missing the warmth of her palm against mine.
“Let me grab a blanket.”
“Okay,” she says.
I rush inside, pulling the quilt off the back of the couch and throwing it over my shoulder. I join her, and we step off the porch then take the trail. Harper walks beside me, close enough that our knuckles brush lightly every few steps. It sends tiny jolts of electricity soaring through me each time.
My eyes drift over, and I take her in. Light catches her brown hair, and it frames her face in warm gold. She’s stunning, effortlessly beautiful—so much more than even she realizes.
She notices me stealing glances, but doesn’t call me on it, just smiles.
Her eyes brighten with curiosity. “Are you gonna tell me where we’re headed, Calloway?”
“Patience, Sleeping Beauty,” I tease, forcing my attention back to the path ahead. “You’ll know soon enough.”
She smiles, shaking her head, clearly amused. But she doesn’t press further, trusting me to lead her into whatever awaits us.
The trail ahead is filled with the soft rhythm of our footsteps on fallen leaves and the muted whispers of the breeze through the branches. I don’t speak. I rarely do. It’s easier to just listen and observe while absorbing every detail around me. Especially when Harper is close.
I notice everything about her. The light freckles that brush her nose, the little dip in her bottom lip, and how her eyes sparkle when she’s genuinely happy. Like right now.
Our shoulders brush as the path narrows, and heat climbs slowly up my spine. I let myself glance sideways just for a moment, taking her in one more time. Sunrays cling to her skin, touches the curves of her cheekbones, dances along the honeyed strands of her hair.
I turn away, forcing myself to breathe, my jaw tightening as I fix my eyes forward again.
I don’t look at her again—at least not directly. But I feel every tiny shift she makes, every shallow breath, every glance she steals at me when she thinks I’m not paying attention. She doesn’t have to say a single word to pull me in, to draw me toward her like a moth to a flame. It’s a dangerous kind of pull, one I’m done fighting.
The weight of the tequila bottle swings easily at my side, the thick blanket slung casually over my shoulder. I focus on the familiar trail, letting its winding path steady my heartbeat as we walk deeper into the woods.
When the trees finally thin, opening into a small, sunlit clearing, I slow to a stop. The pond sits perfectly still, reflecting the sky like polished glass, and I hear Harper’s soft inhale of breath beside me. I glance toward her, watching silently as surprise brightens her expression. For a second, I forget how to breathe.
“This is incredible,” she says, stepping forward, her eyes wide with awe.
Something inside me aches as I watch her relax, her expression unguarded for the first time since this morning.
I unfold the blanket, spreading it on the grass by the water’s edge. Harper watches me, a faint smile playing on her lips, but neither of us speaks. Words don’t seem necessary, not here, not now.
Slowly, deliberately, I pick up a smooth stone from the ground and weigh it in my palm. Harper eyes me, raising an eyebrow in question. My mouth curves, just enough to acknowledge her curiosity.
“How about a game?” I ask, nodding toward the pond. “We take turns skipping rocks. Whoever’s stone goes farther wins the round.”
She tilts her head, eyes dancing with challenge. “And the loser?”
I lift the tequila bottle slightly, sunlight catching the glass and amber liquid. “Gotta take a shot.”
Her lips turn into a playful smile, sending my pulse into overdrive. Without breaking eye contact, she leans down to pick up a rock.
“Guess I’m getting trashed,” she says. “I’ve never done this.”
I raise an eyebrow, my mouth twitching into a smirk. “Already admitting defeat? Didn’t peg you for a chicken.”
Her eyes widen slightly, like she’s offended. Harper straightens her spine as her competitive fire sparks to life. “Oh, you’re on, Calloway. But just think how embarrassing it’ll be when you lose to someone who’s never skipped a rock in her entire life.”
I take a casual step closer, lowering my voice into a warning. “I won’t go easy on you, Harp.”
She leans in, and a mischievous smile curls at the corner of her lips as she whispers playfully, “Oh, I know. And that’s exactly how I like it.”
Heat rushes through me at the challenge in her voice. Harper steps toward the edge of the water, looking at the stone in her hand with exaggerated concentration. Her lips press into a firm line, eyes narrowing at the pond like it’s personally offended her.
I hold back a grin, amused by the intensity she puts into every small thing she does.
With a quick flick of her wrist, she tosses it. It arcs awkwardly, hits the water with a dull splash, and sinks immediately without a bounce. Harper stares at the ripples with exaggerated betrayal, then spins toward me, her cheeks flushed and eyes narrowed accusingly.
“Was that even a skippable rock?” she asks.
I try to keep my expression neutral, shrugging innocently as I move beside her. “It looked perfectly skippable to me.”
She groans and holds out her hand. Chuckling under my breath, I twist open the tequila and hand her the bottle. Her fingers brush mine and our eyes briefly locking as she takes two big gulps. Any time we touch, my pulse kicks up a notch, heat pooling low in my gut. I look away quickly, focusing instead on picking up a rock from the ground.
“Watch closely,” I say, stepping forward. “It’s all in the wrist.”
I skim the stone over the water, watching it skip smoothly several times before finally sinking far beyond Harper’s attempt. Glancing back, I raise an eyebrow. Her mouth falls open in playful disbelief.
“Are you a professional?” she asks.
I shake my head. “You’ll never know.”
“Right,” she says, more determined than before to beat me.
She grabs another rock—this one is much bigger—and she tests the weight in her palm. She tries another toss, mimicking my earlier motion, but the stone sinks quickly once again.
She glares at me, gulping another shot of tequila. “You might have to carry me back to the cabin at this rate.”
I chuckle. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
I grab another rock, and it skids over the water with such a practiced ease that she gasps.
“How are you doing that? What the hell?!”
“Here,” I say, plucking a stone from the ground. I step behind her and place my hand on her wrist, showing her the motion. “It’s all about the angle of attack.” My voice is steady and casual, but inside, my heart hammers against my ribs.
Every nerve in my body feels in tune to how close we are. Warmth radiates from her skin. I’m careful, moving slowly, guiding her arm back and forward again, showing her how to release at just the right moment. We stand close enough that I feel the hitch of her breath and notice the goose bumps that coat her arms when my chest brushes against her back.
“You’re thinking too much,” I say near her ear, my voice lower. “Just feel it.”
She tilts her head slightly, turning her face toward mine. Our eyes lock for a breathless instant. My pulse spikes, tension winding through my chest, as desire dances against the invisible line that keeps us apart.
Then, slowly, she turns forward again and flicks her wrist just as I taught her. This time, the stone skips—one, two, three, and even four times before disappearing beneath the surface.
Harper spins around, her face glowing, her eyes bright with excitement. “Did you see that?”
I step back with a smile, creating space, sucking air into my lungs as I try to regain composure. “Not bad.”
She lifts an eyebrow, her mouth curving. “I’d say it was pretty damn good actually.”
“Oh, don’t get cocky,” I tell her.
Her confidence sparkles in her eyes, and it almost undoes me.
She picks up another rock and repeats the process, and it skips even farther. I grin proudly and force my gaze away, silently reminding myself to breathe. I toss another rock, and it doesn’t go nearly as far.
“You didn’t try!” she says.
“Uh, yes, I did,” I tell her, taking the bottle and chugging, needing to relax.
After we’re both too buzzed to care anymore, we sit on the blanket, soaking in the sunshine. The cool breeze brushes over our skin. Harper’s so close to me that I can’t concentrate on anything else.
“I needed this,” she admits. “I don’t know if I want to ever leave this place.”
I turn to her, watching her hair blow, and smile. “I always feel like that when I come here,” I admit. “My sister and I used to do this when we were kids. Brandy was undefeatable.”
Harper’s smile slightly falters. “I admire you. You’ve been through so much, and you’re so resilient.”
“I could say the same about you,” I mutter as we both reach for the tequila with a laugh.
Two more gulps from each of us, and we lie back on the blanket and watch the fluffy clouds pass by.
Harper eventually turns her head toward me, and I meet her eyes. Our faces are inches apart and I imagine sliding my mouth across hers.
“What do you think would’ve happened had you kissed me the night of Billie’s eighteenth birthday?” she asks as if she could read my thoughts.
I think about the question. “I probably would’ve hurt you.”
Harper’s brows furrow. “What?”
“I was twenty-six and didn’t know what I wanted in life. You were obsessed with me. I would’ve used and discarded you like I did everyone else back then. I was running away from too many demons.”
“And now?” she asks.
The silence draws on between us.
“You’re my purpose, Harp.”
I can’t help but study her lips, feeling the magnetic pull between us as we inch our faces closer. Harper’s eyes flutter closed, and her breath hitches, but I carefully pull away.
“Not like this,” I mutter. “Too much tequila encourages people to do things they usually wouldn’t.”
Her gaze pierces through me, and she groans, lying back on the blanket with frustration. “Still the unwanted one.”
I burst into laughter, my vision blurring from the booze. “Shut the fuck up. You’re the woman everyone wants and can’t have. The girl who almost got away.”
“Right.” She rolls her eyes.
I take her hand in mine, interlocking our fingers together. “It’s not a lie,” I say, reminding her of our pact.
She lets out a slow breath, then moves closer to me. I open my arms, allowing her to lie on my chest, and hold her. Words evade us, and I imagine a life where we could be together.
The two of us stay just like this for only God knows how long, and if I had the ability to freeze time and live in this very moment forever, I would.