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“Knox,” she said a little harder, and grabbed my arm. “Even if she is, you have to understand that it is no longer your place to try to fix her.”
I looked to where Jagger was still sitting on the bed, silent as ever as he observed and thought, and gestured toward him. “You guys have to understand. I know you understand.”
“No, we don’t. What you have to understand is that she’s married and you need to step back,” Grey bit out, and without another word, she walked out of the room
Jagger’s head had turned in the direction Grey left, but he wasn’t looking toward the door; his eyes were far away. I was about to beg him for a different response than what his wife had given me, just to feel like I wasn’t the worst kind of bastard for again wanting someone I couldn’t have, but the slow shake of his head had me biting back any plea. “It was different—Grey and me,” he said. “We were both grieving a death, and I never once told Grey how I felt about her, or pushed any kind of relationship on her. So when I helped her, when I was there for her every day, it was only as her best friend—not as the guy who had loved her for years.”
“You can’t tell me there wasn’t any part of you that was doing that because you were in love with her.”
“I didn’t say that. I love Grey, always have, and everything I’ve done has been because I love her. But, for the first nine years of loving her, she thought we were only best friends. What I’m saying is that she never saw that side of me until two years after Ben died, and as you know, she wasn’t supposed to find out when she did. If she had known that I loved her before, I wouldn’t have been able to help her the way I did; I wouldn’t have been able to be there for her. Harlow knows how you feel, or felt; you can’t just go in there wanting to help her for any reason other than that you love her. Everything you did for Harlow since you were eighteen was because you were in love with her, and she knew it. Do you see the difference?”
I ground my teeth and took a deep breath in, but didn’t respond. I did see the difference, and I also knew that he and Grey were right. That didn’t mean I wanted to agree with them.
“Besides, Harlow is unhappy in her marriage, according to you. Like Grey said, those are her own issues that she needs to deal with. And with your history, she can’t do that with you interfering. I know what she meant to you—trust me, I do—and I know you just found her again, but Grey’s right . . . you need to step back.”
I nodded, but again didn’t respond. There was no way for them to understand what I had seen in Harlow today. It was more than her being unhappy. I wanted to tell Jagger how Harlow had flinched when I’d tried to stop her from leaving, how when I said she looked dead, I actually meant she looked like she was dying, and seemed terrified that someone would see us talking. But I knew he would think I was reaching, and I knew in the disappointed way Grey had looked at me before she’d left that she had already made up her mind on this.
Fall 2009—Seattle
“KNOCK-KNOCK,” A FAMILIAR voice called out as the door to Deacon’s and my room opened.
“Hey!” we shouted as Grey walked in, followed by Graham. “Happy Birthday,” Deacon and I called out to Grey.
“One more year until you’re legal,” Deacon hinted, and she laughed. “Speaking of waiting until people are legal,” he continued, and shot a look in my direction.
Grey gave Deacon a weird look as she hugged me, but didn’t comment on what he’d said. “Can I just say that your frat house smells so weird?”
“Lies.”
“She found the body.”
“That’s the smell of victory,” we all spoke over each other.
Grey sighed and rolled her eyes. “Boys are gross. Anyway, what are we doing tonight?”
“What do you want to do?” Graham asked. “It’s your birthday, and it took me almost an hour to get Mom and Dad to let you come back with me.”
“Can we go to a club?” she asked with a hopeful expression.
“No,” the three of us answered at the same time.
“There aren’t enough of us to protect you,” I said at the same time Deacon said, “Some guy is going to kidnap you.”
“Or because she’s only seventeen,” Graham interjected. “Anything else?”
“Um . . .” She looked around at us like she was hoping for suggestions. It was obvious that she’d been banking on us sneaking her into a club.
My phone rang, and a smile tugged at my lips when I glanced down to see Harlow’s name across my screen. It had only been a few days since I’d seen her at the coffee shop, but it was physically draining to keep myself from going to her now. We’d planned for me to somehow get away from Deacon tonight so I could go see her, but then I’d found out that Graham was bringing Grey back here. I’d called Harlow earlier to tell her, but she hadn’t answered. I went to tap on the screen, but suddenly my phone was ripped from my hands.
“Let me guess . . .” Graham began. “Yup! Little Miss Illegal, herself.”
“The fuck. Give me my phone.” I lunged for it, but he tossed it over me.
I turned around in time to see Deacon put it up to his ear. “Hello, child . . . Nope, wrong friend . . . Yeah, he’s gonna be a bit busy tonight, if you get where I’m going with that. I guess you’ll just have to find something to do with people your age . . . Oooh, testy.” He looked at the screen and shrugged. “She hung up.”
I hadn’t tried to stop him because I knew there was no point; I also knew Harlow wouldn’t believe anything Deacon or Graham said. But with every word he said to her, my hands had curled tighter into fists, and my breathing had gotten rougher.
“Uh, what just happened?” Grey asked, but none of us said anything or looked at her.
