Chapter 20
Ford
Getting a knee to the balls after making out with the woman I’ve loved since high school feels like karma has a twisted sense of humor. But Harper’s laughter as she asks if I’m okay, then tumbles into the snow beside me, makes it all worthwhile.
I’ve heard her laugh since returning to town, but not like this in ages. It never really happened around Asher—only when we were alone, deep in conversation.
I stand up and take her hand, pulling her to her feet. “Good thing we landed in the snow. Built-in ice pack for that bony knee of yours.”
“I’m sorry,” Harper replies, erupting into another fit of laughter.
She bends forward, clutching her sides. I’ve always loved watching her like this—those rare moments when she’s free to be herself. This, along with seeing her behind the camera, are my favorite views of her. So far.
We move to the front porch and sit down, the snow swirling around us. My groin throbs, but oddly, I don’t mind as much as I probably should. Others would call me whipped, and they’d likely be right.
“What’s going on out here?” Gina asks, poking her head through the front door.
Harper bursts into laughter again, wiping tears from her eyes.
“We’re fine,” I assure her.
“What happened? I haven’t heard her laugh like this in ages.”
This confirms it. Asher dulled Harper’s shine, even when they weren’t surrounded by others. He wanted her to shrink down to his size.
“We slipped on the ice,” Harper manages to say, “or rather, I slipped and took Ford down with me. And then I kind of hurt him getting up.”
“Hurt him?”
Her finger points first at her right knee and then at my lap. Another wave of laughter escapes her, and I can only shake my head, smiling.
Gina gasps. “Are you okay? We can’t have you getting hurt like that. Special equipment and all.”
“Goodnight, Gina,” Harper says, leaving me to process what she just said.
Did she just call my junk special equipment? A knowing look passes between the sisters before Gina retreats inside and shuts the porch lights.
We’re left in the warm glow of the Christmas lights strung along the porch railing, their multicolored reflections dancing across the pristine snow that continues to fall in fat, lazy flakes around us.
The air smells of pine, and our breath forms little clouds that dissipate into the night.
I finally understand Harper’s affection for this time of year—this perfect stillness where everything feels possible.
“You haven’t laughed like that in a while, huh?” I ask.
Harper gives a small, wistful smile. “I never really laughed with Asher. Not truly. If I did…”
“If you did, what?” I prompt, reaching over to take her hand.
“I don’t know how to explain it. I always felt like I was… too much.”
The more I learn about how Asher treated her, the more my hatred for him grows—a slow-burning fire that spreads through my chest whenever I picture him dimming her light.
When Harper laughs like she just did, I can almost see the invisible threads connecting us, silver in the moonlight, stretching between her heart and mine.
Yes, I see Harper as mine in a way I’ve never felt about anyone else. She already owns my heart. Has since that day I met her.
“How are you really feeling about everything that’s happened?” I ask. “Being here, Asher and Kenzie, the weddings.”
“I’m okay. When it all first happened, I didn’t think I could ever say that, but I am. Not to say I’m not still bruised from it, though.”
I lift an eyebrow and smirk. “You’re not the one who’ll be bruised in the morning.”
“I really am sorry, Ford. I… never want to hurt you.”
“I’m tougher than I look. Just don’t make a habit out of it.”
I feel a twinge of disappointment when she releases my hand, the winter air immediately stealing the warmth we’d created together. But then she tugs off her red wool mittens, the ones with tiny snowflakes stitched along the cuff, and pulls mine off too.
When she reaches for my hand again, her slender fingers slide between mine, skin against skin, her palm surprisingly warm despite the cold.
She shifts her weight on the wooden porch step, the snow crunching beneath her as she slides closer until our shoulders touch, her floral perfume mingling with the crisp winter air around us.
“Being back home after everything feels surreal. I was supposed to be here, putting the final touches on my own wedding—getting married on Christmas Eve like I always dreamed. Now, I’m planning my sister’s wedding instead and dodging Kenzie’s events.”
“The woman who stole everything from you.”
She chuckles dryly. “Yeah, I guess she did.”
That thought makes me bristle, like ice water trickling down my spine. The muscles in my jaw tighten, and I taste something metallic. It feels like she’s still hung up on Asher—his ghost hovering between us on this snow-dusted porch.
The last thing I want is to be a rebound for someone like him, a temporary bandage over the wound he left. There’s still a chance he could come to his senses and try to win Harper back, showing up at her door with that practiced smile and some grand gesture.
The mere idea devastates me enough to contemplate escaping to a remote cabin in the mountains, surrounded by nothing but pine trees and silence, never to speak to another soul again, my only companions the occasional deer and my own bitter thoughts.
“Did you know I’ve dreamed of getting married on Christmas Eve since I was a little girl?”
This sounds like Harper. Whether she wants to admit it or not, she’s always been a dreamer.
“No, I didn’t.”
“It’s my favorite day of the year. Christmas is wonderful, but there’s something magical about the anticipation that builds on Christmas Eve.”
“I suppose there is.”
“I want to get married in the evening, stepping out to a car surrounded by Christmas lights. In my perfect scenario, it would be snowing as I kiss my husband, enveloped by the glow of twinkling lights. And no, this has nothing to do with Asher. This dream existed long before him.”
For some reason, this gives me hope. “Who did you envision when you dreamed this?”
“Well, first, it was Justin Timberlake or Nick Lachey.”
“Boy bands?”
She laughs, gently nudging my shoulder with her free hand. “Be nice. I was six or seven when these fantasies took shape. And they were hot! Who was your celebrity crush when you were younger?”
“Okay, this is totally weird.”
“Tell me. Please?”
Moving closer, she wraps herself around my arm, our joined hands resting between her thighs. I let out a sigh. “Lisa Bonet from The Cosby Show. The reruns played while I ate cereal in the mornings before school. Those were some of the only quiet moments I had before we moved here.”
She’s the only one who knows the truth about my past. Mom did a decent job hiding it, and I don’t share much with anyone. Not even Asher knows what my father and first two stepfathers did to us. But I told Harper.
“She is attractive.”
Not as attractive as Harper, though I can’t say that without sounding cheesy.
“What hurts the most is that Asher took my dream and gave it to someone else. Someone who apparently always wanted my life.”
“I’m sorry, Harper.”
She shrugs, resting her head against my bicep. “If they want it that badly, they can have it. It just feels like a stab to the chest.”
“Are you sure the pain is from losing your dream or losing Asher?”
Sighing, she looks up at me, searching for any signs of deeper emotions. “I miss the person I used to be.”
“What?”
“I was with Asher for so long that I don’t know who Harper is without him. Everything I’d planned vanished overnight.”
“For what it’s worth, I think you’re a better version of yourself without him. He weighed you down.”
This earns me a smile that reaches her eyes, crinkling the corners in that way that’s purely Harper. It’s the honest truth, though—she’s always been lighter without Asher, like a balloon finally released from a child’s tight grip.
My favorite moments were when it was just the two of us on my back porch, her legs tucked under her, gesturing wildly with both hands as she told stories, her laugh unrestrained and musical.
She’d curse without catching herself, let her hair fall messy around her face, and eat the last cookie without apologizing.
With me, she never tried to fold herself smaller or filter her thoughts through his expectations.
“I’m trying to embrace becoming the new Harper, with my life completely different than it was for so long. I’d been with Asher for over half my life.”
He had her for far too long. “I think you’re doing a great job.”
“You make it easier, Ford. Can I confess something that you might think is crazy?”
All I can do is pray she doesn’t bring up Asher. “You can tell me anything, Harper. I’ll never judge you.”
“You never have. You’ve always been so easy to talk to.”
“What’s your confession?”
“I miss Kenzie.”
What did she just say? I frown and turn to her, and she chuckles softly. “I know. It’s crazy. Looking back now, I see we were never really friends, not like I believed. But I still feel the loss.”
“Even though she was horrible?”
“It’s hard to explain, but yeah. Probably because I have to re-remember. My memories aren’t real. The friendship we shared was real. She was my best friend since third grade. That’s a lot of memories that aren’t what I thought.”
There’s genuine sadness in her tone that makes her voice crack slightly, and while I don’t fully understand, something in my chest tightens in response.
Her eyes glisten in the dim porch light, not quite tears but a sheen of vulnerability that makes me want to pull her closer.
It brings me some relief to know she mourns her best friend more than her fiancé.
Like watching a weight being lifted from my shoulders that I didn’t realize I’d been carrying.
“I’m sorry, Harper.”
“It’s okay. It just adds to the hurt, you know? It would have been easier if it had been a random girl I didn’t know or consider a friend. But like I said before, Asher knows how to hit below the belt and really twist the knife.”
“Asher never deserved you. You always deserved so much better.”
She smiles and nods. “I’m starting to see that.”
I’d love nothing more than to sit here with her all night—talking or simply being together—but she shivers beside me.
“I should probably get going.”
“Thank you for taking me to the tree lighting. And for breaking my fall. And then not getting too angry with me for hurting you.”
We stand, and I smile as I cup her face before kissing her forehead. “Goodnight, Harper.”
“Goodnight, Ford.”