Chapter 5
CONNOR
It made sense that Morgan would show up the other night. I should've predicted it, really. Except I'd let myself hope, stupidly and naively, that she'd gotten the message. That showing up uninvited and unwanted more than once had been embarrassing enough to stop her from doing it again.
I should've known better.
The house felt alive. Warm. Full.
But I couldn't settle into it. My eyes kept drifting to the front window, checking my watch for the third time in ten minutes, and my fingers drummed restlessly against the counter. Waiting for Anna's car to appear in the driveway.
Waiting for Harper.
Anna had told me she was coming, Harper was going to her house first and would drive over with her. She texted me this morning with three exclamation points after Harper's name like she'd won the lottery just getting her to agree.
After Wednesday, I half expected her to cancel at the last minute. To protect herself from another evening of awkwardness and my ex-girlfriend's unexpected appearances. I wouldn't blame her if she did.
If she doesn't come, I deserve it. I let her leave Wednesday without fighting harder.
“You're doing that thing again.” Felix appeared at my elbow with his beer bottle raised like he was making a toast. “That brooding thing where you stare into the distance like a tragic hero in a period drama.”
I pulled my attention from the window, scowling. “I'm not brooding.”
“You're definitely brooding. Let me guess, Harper?”
I shot him a look that should've shut him up. “Shouldn't you be helping Jaxon with the chairs?”
“Probably. But watching you pine is more entertaining.” He took a long sip of beer, his bright eyes studying me with that knowing expression. “So, what happened Wednesday? Anna said Harper bolted before dinner even started. Something about Morgan?”
My jaw tightened. The pot roast needed to come out of the oven, but I didn't move toward it, my hands gripped the counter edge instead. “Morgan showed up uninvited.”
“Ah.” Felix's expression shifted to understanding, his amusement fading. “Did she claim you invited her again?”
“Yeah.” I grabbed the oven mitts from the counter, needing something to do with my hands before I put my fist through a wall. “She told everyone I'd texted her that morning. That I'd said she should come.”
“But you didn't.”
“I haven't texted Morgan in three weeks.” I pulled open the oven, and heat rolled out in a wave that smelled like home and comfort and everything I couldn't seem to hold onto. “Not since she texted me asking if we could 'talk about us' and I told her there was no 'us' to talk about.”
The pot roast looked perfect. Meat falling-off-the-bone tender, the carrots and potatoes golden brown, the gravy thick and rich. I'd spent hours on this meal, checking the recipe three times, adjusting seasonings, wanting everything to be perfect for tonight.
For Harper.
“Did you explain that to Harper?” Felix leaned against the counter, his casual posture at odds with the seriousness in his voice. “That you didn't invite Morgan?”
“I tried. But by the time I got there, she was already getting in her car.” I set the roasting pan on the counter with more force than necessary, the clang of metal on the tile too loud.
“I texted her the next day and told her I didn't invite Morgan, that I didn't know why she'd said that, that I was sorry.”
“And?”
“She told me not to worry about it.” I grabbed a serving platter from the cabinet, the ceramic cool and smooth under my hands.
Felix was quiet for a moment, just watching me transfer the pot roast to the platter with careful precision.
When he spoke again, his voice was gentler than usual.
“You're going to have to actually talk to her at some point, you know. Not just text apologies and hope things magically fix themselves.”
“I know.”
“Do you? Because at some point, you're going to have to actually fight for what you want instead of just standing there watching it slip away.”
The words hit harder than they should have. I set down the carving fork and braced my hands against the counter, breathing through the tightness in my chest that had become familiar over the past few months.
“I don't know if she wants me to fight for her. What if I tell her everything and she doesn't feel the same way? What if I lose the friendship entirely?”
“You're already losing the friendship by doing nothing.” Felix's voice was quiet but firm.
Before I could respond or even figure out what to say to that brutal honesty, the sound of tires on gravel made my heart kick into overdrive. I moved to the front window like I was pulled by a string, my whole body suddenly tensed with anticipation, my pulse picking up speed.
Anna's sedan was pulling up the driveway, headlights cutting through the gathering dusk. I could see two silhouettes in the car.
She came.
“Showtime,” Felix murmured behind me, amusement back in his voice. “Try not to stare at her like a lovesick puppy. It's pitiful.”
“Shut up.”
But I was already moving to the front door, wiping my hands on the dish towel I'd been holding, trying to look casual.
Not like I'd been watching for her car for the past twenty minutes.
Not like my heart was pounding and my palms were sweating and every nerve in my body was screaming that she was here.
I opened the door just as Anna climbed out of the driver's side, already waving and grinning like this was any normal Saturday night.
Then Harper emerged from the passenger side, and something in my chest loosened. Just knowing she was okay, that she was here and that she'd come despite everything.
She wore dark jeans and a deep red sweater that was a shade darker than her fiery hair.
Even from here in the dim light, I could see the exhaustion on her face.
Dark circles showed under her eyes that makeup couldn't quite hide.
There was also a tightness around her mouth that spoke of stress and sleepless nights.
It'd been three days since I'd seen her in my barn, working in silence while tension crackled between us. She looked more tired now than she had then.
What's wrong? What's happening that you won't tell anyone about?
They made their way up the porch steps, Anna chattering about something while Harper nodded along with the kind of distracted attention that said her mind was elsewhere.
When her bright green eyes met mine, she managed a small smile.
But it didn't reach her eyes or have that genuine warmth I used to see there.
“Hey.” The word came out rougher than I'd intended. I cleared my throat. “Glad you came.”
“Anna was very insistent.” There was something in her voice, not quite teasing, not quite serious. A careful neutrality that felt like a wall.
“Well, come in.” I stepped aside letting them pass, and caught a whiff of Harper's perfume as she moved by me. Something light and floral that made me want to follow her like a damn fool.
Anna immediately headed for the kitchen, already calling out greetings to Jaxon who'd just come in from the side porch. But Harper lingered in the entryway, looking around my house like she was seeing it for the first time even though she'd been here hundreds of times over the years.
We'd sat on that couch watching movies until two in the morning.
She'd helped me paint the living room walls three years ago, getting more paint on herself than the walls and laughing the whole time.
Had made breakfast in my kitchen more mornings than I could count, back when our friendship was easy.
Before I'd wasted a year on Morgan and ruined everything.
“How've you been?” I kept my voice low. Private. Just for her.
“Fine. Busy.” The same answer she always gave, I realized. The same lie I'd been hearing from everyone who talked to her.
“Harper—”
“Connor, about Wednesday—” she started at the same time.
We both stopped. A ghost of a real smile crossed her face, and for just a second, it was like old times. Like we were still those people who could read each other's minds, who could finish each other's sentences.
“You first.” I gestured for her to continue, watching the way she twisted her fingers together before catching herself and stopping.
“I just wanted to say I'm sorry for leaving the other night.” The words came out in a rush, like she'd been holding them in for days. “It was rude. Anna went to all that trouble with dinner, and I just…I shouldn't have run off.”
“You don't need to apologize.” The denial was automatic, emphatic, my hands clenching at my sides. “Morgan showed up uninvited and made things uncomfortable. That's on her, not you.”
Harper studied me for a long moment, her eyes searched my face like she was looking for something. Truth, maybe. Or lies she'd learned to expect.
“You really didn't invite her?” The question was quiet, almost hesitant. Like she wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer. The fact that she had to ask, that she doubted me enough to wonder, hit me like a punch to the gut.
“No.” I stepped closer without thinking, needing her to see the truth in my eyes.
“I haven't invited Morgan anywhere since I ended things.
I don't text her, I don't call her, I don't want her at my house.
I don't know why she said I invited her Wednesday, but I promise you, Harper, I didn't want her here.”
Harper held my gaze, and I could see her deciding whether or not to believe me. There was a war playing out in her eyes, one side of her wanted to trust me while the other resisted after being hurt so many times.
Finally, she nodded. “Okay.”
“Okay?” I needed more than that.
“I believe you.” She moved past me toward the kitchen, and I caught another whiff of that perfume. “I should help Anna with dinner.”
I watched her go, that familiar ache settling in my chest like it lived there now. Like it had made a permanent home in the space between my ribs.
Just tell her. Stop being a coward.