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“Give me my phone,” I demanded softly, and Deacon handed it over with a shit-eating grin.
“Anyone?” Grey tried again.
“Do you want to tell her? It’d be great to get her thoughts since they’re the same age,” Deacon taunted.
Nodding slowly, I switched my phone over so my dominant hand was free, and without giving Deacon a second to see what was coming, punched him as hard as I could.
“Oh my God!” Grey yelled as Graham shoved me back, and shouted, “What the fuck, Knox?”
I didn’t say anything to anyone. I just walked out into the hall to call Harlow back.
“It always warms my heart to talk to one of those two,” she answered with a sigh.
I hung my head and rubbed the back of my neck. “Does it even make a difference when I say ‘I’m sorry’ anymore?”
Harlow laughed softly. “Of course it does, but you don’t need to. I know they’re just worried about you and being protective. After another year, they won’t have a reason to be.”
I held back a sigh. One more year—then all of this would be behind us.
“Hey, do you still think you’ll be able to come over tonight?”
“No, I’m sorry.” I rushed to tell her why when her disappointment drifted through the phone. “Graham called earlier to let us know he was bringing Grey back with him for her birthday. They just showed up before you called. I don’t know what we’re doing, but she’s like my sister and I never get to see her.”
“Well, good! I hope you have fun!”
I knew Harlow was genuinely happy for me. She was just that kind of person, and it was impossible to miss the smile in her voice. It didn’t lessen the way I physically ached to see her, though. “If it weren’t for her, I’d be with you tonight,” I assured her.
“I know, Knox,” she said. “I should let you get back to them. Tell Grey I said happy birthday.”
“I have a few minutes; tell me about your day.”
“You sure?”
Considering I’d just punched one of my best friends, and I was missing a night I’d planned on spending with Harlow? Yeah . . . I had a few minutes. “Of course, Low.”
“There’s not much to tell. Went to the movies with some friends earlier—it was okay. That’s where I was when you called, by the way. And then I came home to a beautiful bouquet of flowers.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, and my lips twitched into a smile.
“Mm-hm. Some random person sent me a bouquet of poppies.”
“Some random person, huh? Should I be worried?”
I could hear the rustling of paper through the phone, and she sighed teasingly. “I mean, I don’t think so. The note only said ‘To the stars.’ I don’t know why you’d need to worry about that.”
“Yeah. Not threatened by that.” My smile grew. Every month, that note had reminded Harlow I was still waiting for her. Ever since that night earlier this year when I’d tried to convey to Harlow just how much I loved her, the notes on her monthly bouquet had changed. Now I never wanted that note to change.
“Thank you for my beautiful flowers,” she said so softly the words were almost lost in the random noises of the house. “And thank you for loving me the way you do.”
“Always, Low.” My voice deepened as I vowed each word to her.
“You have my heart, Knox Alexander,” she promised. “You have my heart, and in a year, I will finally have you.”
“You already do.”
There was a pause, then her next words rushed out. “I’m about to beg you to come see me if you keep talking to me the way you are, but I know you need tonight. So go hang out with them before I change my mind.”
I huffed, but nodded even though she couldn’t see me. “All right. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
