24. Elliot #2
I turned back toward the street. Harper and Oliver had stopped at the corner.
She said something, and he laughed, loud enough that I could almost hear it over the traffic.
Then he leaned down slightly, his mouth near her ear.
Not kissing her; this was fucking worse.
They were familiar… comfortable. The urge to cross the street came back so strong I took another step.
Theo grabbed my arm this time. “Don’t.”
“I need to talk to her.” I pleaded, and I didn’t care how desperate I sounded.
“No, you don’t.”
“You don’t know what I need,” I responded, trying to pull away from his hand. The air was so cold, I could see my laboured breathing puffing out in front of me.
“I know if you cross that street acting like this, she is going to remember exactly why she left you.”
That stopped me for half a second, long enough for the words to get under my skin.
I looked down at myself. Hands clenched, breathing too fast, pulse pounding, every inch of me vibrating with something angry and desperate and humiliating.
I looked exactly like the kind of man Harper should stay away from.
The thought nearly knocked the air out of me.
Theo’s grip loosened slightly. “Look,” he said, quieter. “I know this hurts.”
I laughed once. “You know?”
“No. Not like you.” At least he was honest. “But I know enough to say you do not get to charge over there because she looks happy with someone else.”
“She’s not happy with him.” I countered.
Theo didn’t answer. Across the street, Harper pulled her coat tighter around herself.
Oliver shifted beside her, blocking the wind without seeming to think about it.
She said something; he smiled down at her.
Then he lifted his phone. Harper shook her head immediately.
He laughed, and he covered part of her face with one hand.
My stomach dropped.
Theo cursed softly. I didn’t know if it was for me or because he was realizing the same thing.
The idea of another man being close enough to her that they spent the holidays together while I was spiralling. And now here she was, back in Chicago with him. Laughing with him, letting him take pictures, letting him touch her… letting him stand in the space I had lost.
I had never understood the phrase seeing red before. Now I did. But under the anger was something worse. Fear.
Because he obviously wasn’t a stranger. This wasn’t a rebound in a bar; he wasn’t someone she picked because she was lonely. Oliver Hastings looked at her as if he knew her, and Harper looked at him like she felt safe and comfortable at his side. That was the part that made my knees feel weak.
Theo spoke carefully. “Hastings is…”
“What?” I asked, sharper than I had intended.
He winced slightly. “A good guy.”
I turned on him. “Do not say that.”
“I’m just saying.” His hands came back up in front of him.
“Don’t.” I don't know if it was a command or a plea.
Theo held up his hands. “Fine.”
But his face said enough. Oliver Hastings was a good guy who was comfortable with Harper. Pulling her to his side like she was something precious and obvious.
Good fucking luck. The words weren't spoken, but I heard them anyway.
I stared across the street until Harper and Oliver disappeared into a cafe.
Even then I kept staring, as if I looked hard enough, time would reverse.
Like she would come back out alone, she would see me and smile at me.
Like there was still a chance to call her name and have her turn toward me with something other than anger and hurt in her eyes.
But the door closed behind them, and that didn’t happen.
Theo stood beside me, unusually quiet. Finally, he said, “Elliot.”
I swallowed. “What?”
“You need to breathe.”
I realized then that I wasn’t. I drew air into my lungs, but it hurt. Everything hurts. My chest, my throat, my hands from squeezing my fists too tight for too long. The space behind my ribs where something had been cracking open for weeks and now finally split.
“She looks different,” I said.
Theo didn’t answer.
“She…” I stopped.
Because I didn’t know how to say it. She looked happy without me.
Theo seemed to understand anyway. He looked toward the cafe, then back at me, saying, “You really did screw up.”
I laughed, but it came out broken. “So helpful.”
For a while neither of us moved; people passed around us as cars rushed through intersections. Chicago continued being Chicago, completely indifferent to the fact that my life had just caved in across the street. Finally, Theo clapped a hand on my shoulder. “Come on.”
“I can’t just leave,” I whispered.
“You can.” I looked at him, and he held my gaze, adding, “You should.”
Every instinct in me screamed against it.
To go inside, demand answers, to tell Harper I was sorry, ask if she was with him…
To ask if she loved him. To ask if she ever loved me.
To ask if I had ruined the only thing in my life that had ever felt like mine and then apologize for thinking of her that way too.
But Theo was right. If I walked into that cafe now, I would not be choosing Harper.
I would be choosing panic, again. And hadn’t panic already cost me enough?
So I stood there, hands shaking, jaw clenched, heart doing something I still did not want to name.
I let her have her coffee. Her smile. Her peace.
Without me.
For the first time since Harper Lane walked away, I did not chase, and somehow that felt less like growth and more like dying in the middle of a sidewalk.
Theo started walking. After a second, I followed, not because I wanted to, but because if I stayed…
Theo sighed. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?”
I looked at him, and he swore under his breath. He started walking again; this time I didn’t look back, but every step away from that cafe felt wrong. Like I was leaving a part of me behind.