Chapter 5 #2
I opened my mouth, heart hammering against my ribs like it was trying to escape. "Harper, I—"
She turned to face me fully, those round, hopeful eyes finding mine, and every carefully planned word evaporated from my brain like morning fog.
Her expression was open, waiting, and I could see the question forming on her lips.
The entryway suddenly felt too warm, too small, the weight of what I wanted to say was crushing the air from my lungs.
Tell her she's beautiful. Tell her you can't stop thinking about her. Tell her you can't stand your life without her in it.
But what if she didn't feel the same? What if I ruined the fragile peace we'd just started to rebuild? What if confessing my feelings destroyed the last thread of friendship we had left and I lost her completely?
"I—" I swallowed hard, my throat tight. "I'm glad you came tonight. That's all."
Coward.
The moment deflated between us like a punctured balloon. Harper's expression shifted, was that disappointment flickering across her face? She gave me a small, tight smile that didn't reach her eyes.
"Yeah. Me too."
She turned away, and Anna immediately appeared from the kitchen, pulling Harper into conversation about something that made her laugh softly. That beautiful sound that used to be so easy between us, now felt miles away despite being in the same room.
Felix appeared at my elbow again, his voice low enough that only I could hear. "Well, that was painful to watch."
"Shut up and help me carry food to the table."
Dinner was good. Better than good.
Harper had relaxed as the evening wore on, the tension slowly drained from her shoulders as she got pulled into the easy rhythm of conversation and laughter that filled my dining room.
She'd sat next to me at the table, Anna's strategic seating arrangement no doubt.
And for brief, perfect moments, it almost felt normal again.
It almost felt like before.
She'd laughed at Felix's terrible jokes about a horse walking into a bar.
Had helped Anna serve the apple pie I'd bought from the diner in town because my baking skills were nonexistent.
She fell into easy conversation with Marcus about the new foal in the barn, her eyes lighting up with genuine interest when he described the colt's first wobbly steps.
And every time she smiled, every time that genuine warmth broke through the exhaustion on her face, I felt it like sunlight after weeks of rain.
This was what I'd been missing. Not just her presence, but this—us being okay together.
Us being friends without the weight of everything unsaid crushing the air between us.
Now we were all scattered around the living room, full of pot roast and pie and good conversation.
The fire crackled in the fireplace, casting warm light and dancing shadows across the exposed beam ceiling.
Harper sat on the couch with Anna, their heads bent together over something on Anna's phone, and I was hyperaware every time Harper laughed, every time she smiled, every small shift of her body.
Like she was the only person in the room even though there were eight of us.
You've got it bad, Whitaker.
When headlights swept across my front windows, the conversation stuttered. Everyone turned to look, the easy atmosphere evaporating like smoke. Through the glass, I watched a silver car pull up my driveway slowly, deliberately, like the driver knew exactly where they were going.
Morgan. Unmistakable even in the dark.
Not tonight. Not again.
“You've got to be kidding me,” Jaxon muttered from his spot by the fireplace, his voice tight with barely restrained anger.
Felix caught my eye from across the room, his expression saying exactly what I was thinking: End this. Now. Before it gets worse.
I stood before I'd consciously decided to move, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor loud enough to make everyone flinch. Every eye in the room was on me now, but I only cared about one pair.
Harper's face had gone pale, all the color draining from her cheeks. Her hands twisted together in her lap, knuckles going white, and the easy warmth from moments ago had vanished like it had never existed.
She thinks I lied to her about Morgan.
“I didn't—” I started, my voice coming out rough.
But Jaxon was already moving toward the door, his body language screaming protective fury. “Want me to handle this?”
“No. I'll handle it.” My voice came out harder than I'd intended, edged with anger I'd been holding back for weeks. Months, maybe. I was done being nice and trying to keep the peace when Morgan clearly didn't deserve it at this point.
I crossed to the door and stepped onto the porch, closing it firmly behind me. Cutting off the warm light and the curious stares and Harper's pale, hurt face.
The night air was cold enough to make my breath fog, sharp and clean with that bite that promised snow before morning. I moved to the porch railing and waited, my hands gripping the wood hard enough that I felt splinters dig into my palms.
Morgan climbed out of her car like she had all the time in the world, moving with that practiced grace that had once seemed elegant but now just looked calculated.
She was dressed up for what was supposed to be a casual Saturday dinner in her typical expensive clothing and heels that crunched over the gravel in a way that didn’t belong.
She carried a bottle of wine, and her smile was bright and false as she approached, her teeth too white in the porch light.
“Connor! I hope I'm not too late. I brought—”
“What are you doing here, Morgan?” I didn't bother with pleasantries, I didn't have the patience to pretend anymore.
Her smile faltered slightly, confusion flickering across her face. Or maybe fake confusion. With Morgan, it was hard to tell anymore. “It's Saturday. You always have people over on Saturdays. I thought—”
“You thought wrong.” I kept my voice level but firm, my hands still gripped the porch railing like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. “I didn't invite you.”
“Connor, come on.” She moved closer, climbing the porch steps with that practiced grace, her perfume too strong in the cold air. “We can be friends, can't we? Just because we're not together doesn't mean we can't still—”
“We're not friends, Morgan.” The words came out harder than I'd intended, but I was done.
Done with her showing up uninvited. Done with her making Harper uncomfortable.
Done with her acting like we had something when we never really had.
“We dated for a year, and you made it very clear you didn't want what I wanted.
So I ended it. It's over. It's time to move on.”
“I have moved on.” Her voice had an edge now, the fake warmth cracking slightly to reveal something colder underneath. “I just think it's silly for us to avoid each other in a small town. We can be mature adults about this—”
“I don't care what you think.” I moved across the porch, putting myself between her and my front door.
Between her and Harper. “Morgan, you need to listen to me.
You need to stop showing up here uninvited.
Stop texting me. Stop pretending we're going to be friends.
We're not. We're done. And I need you to respect that.”
Morgan's expression shifted, the fake warmth draining away completely to reveal something colder underneath. Something calculating that I'd seen glimpses of during our relationship but had always made excuses for.
“This is about Harper, isn't it?” It wasn't a question. Her voice was flat. Certain. Almost satisfied, like she'd been waiting for this confirmation.
My jaw clenched. “Leave. Now.”
“Or what?” Morgan's voice was light, almost playful, but her eyes were ice. “You'll call the cops? Tell them I showed up to dinner uninvited? That's not a crime, Connor.”
“Harassment is,” Jaxon's voice came from behind me, sharp and firm.
I turned to see him standing in the doorway, his expression hard and protective, his body language screamed that he was done being patient too.
“And showing up repeatedly after being explicitly told to stay away definitely qualifies as harassment.”
Morgan's gaze shifted to Jaxon, then back to me. Something flickered across her face. Calculation, maybe, or frustration that her game wasn't working. That she'd lost control of the narrative.
“Fine.” She moved back toward her car, her heels clicking sharply on gravel.
“I'll go. But Connor?” She paused, one hand on her car door, and looked back at me with an expression that made my skin crawl.
“You're making a mistake. Harper's not what you think she is.
And when you figure that out, don't come crying to me.”
She climbed into her car and drove away, tires spitting gravel and dust. I stood there for a long moment, my heart pounding with anger and something else I couldn't quite name. Unease, maybe. Because Morgan's parting words felt like a threat.
Harper's not what you think she is.
What the hell does that mean?
“You okay?” Jaxon's voice was gentler now, concerned.
“Yeah.” I scrubbed a hand over my face, trying to push down the adrenaline still coursing through me that made my hands shake slightly. “I should've done that weeks ago.”
“Probably. But you did it now.” He clapped me on the shoulder, his grip firm and grounding. “And you had witnesses. She won't be back.”
I wanted to believe that. But the cold, calculating look on Morgan's face and that almost satisfied smile as she'd driven away made me think this wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.