Page 139 of Dead Girls Don’t Forget

“I don’t know how to do this,” she admitted. “Need someone. Rely on someone. I haven’t let myself in a long time.”

I stayed quiet for a moment, letting the words settle. My hand found the side of her neck, thumb brushing slow along her jaw.

“You don’t have to know how,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere. Not now. Not later.”

She searched my face again, like she still half-expected me to take it back. I didn’t look away.

“I love you,” I said. The words came out low and steady, the ones I had carried for weeks. “That’s not going to change either.”

Harper went completely still. For one heartbeat I wondered if it was too soon. Then her gaze softened in a way I had never seen.

“My cat made up her mind weeks ago,” she said. “I’ve been the slow one.”

She met my eyes. “I love you too.”

I pulled her carefully into my arms, mindful of the sling and her ribs. She made a small contented sound and nuzzled into the side of my neck. Exhaustion won again. Her breathing slowed and deepened.

I stayed awake, her weight warm and trusting against me. Morning light filled the room slow and golden across the walls.

She'd carried this alone for ten years. She wasn't carrying it alone anymore.

My father was a dead man.

He just didn’t know it yet.

Chapter 39: My Cat Knew

The front door opened just after 7:30 p.m. Voices drifted through the house, Mira laughing and Talia complaining about the traffic.

Jackson, who had been sitting on the edge of the bed scrolling on his phone, stood without a word and slipped out, leaving the door cracked.

I listened.

“Hey, you two. Good trip?” Jackson asked, voice easy.

A short pause.

“Jackson?” Talia sounded surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Harper’s been pretty sick since Saturday,” he answered smoothly. “Nasty flu. I’ve been staying with her so she doesn’t have to be alone.”

Mira’s voice came closer. “Oh no, poor thing. Is she okay? Do you need us to pick up anything?”

“I’ve got it covered, thanks.”

I raised my voice, making it sound hoarse and weak. “I’m alive. Barely. Stay back unless you want this plague.”

Talia laughed softly. “You sound awful. We’ll leave you two alone. Text if you need soup or medicine or anything.”

“Feel better,” Mira added.

Their footsteps moved down the hall toward the kitchen. A moment later the door opened wider and Jackson stepped back in, closing it behind him. His eyes met mine.

“They bought it,” he said.

I gave a small nod. “You’re scarily good at lying.”

One corner of his mouth lifted. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”