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With a heavy sigh, he reaches forward and grabs them from my hand. “You’re not my wife or my doctor, you know.”

“Nope, just the lucky bastard who gets to listen to you complain every time your foot swells up like a balloon.”

He narrows his gaze at me but takes the pills. I’ll take the win.

“So. We gonna talk about what’s got your panties in a knot, or are you just gonna nag at me all night?” he snarks when he sets down the glass of water he used to take his medications.

I shift my gaze away. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Harold scoffs. “Sure, you don’t. Is it baseball?”

I shake my head.

“Then it’s a girl.”

I blow out a quiet breath but don’t say anything. I don’t need to. He’s always been able to read me like a book.

“What did you do?”

“It’s complicated,” I say, a little sharper than I mean to. I run a hand over Sweet Pea’s fur, trying to find that earlier sense of calm.

“Most things are if you let them get away from you.”

“What does that even mean?” I ask, finally looking up at him.

He just lifts his bony shoulders in a shrug, not letting his stare fall from mine. “What do you think it means?”

I think I’m regretting coming over tonight. Even with the tension between us, being around Griff wouldn’t be this frustrating.

Guilt comes fast on the heels of that thought. Harold isn’t being obtuse on purpose. Well, he probably is but knowing him, there’s a good reason for it.

Which is why I lean back and think about what he said—and what he hasn’t.

“It is complicated, because it’s not just about me and some girl.” I stare up at the ceiling, my hand still stroking the cat’s back. “There’s…someone else involved as well. And they’re being stubborn as hell about it, trying to ignore how they feel.”

His bushy eyebrows lift almost to his thinning hairline. “Oh.”

“Not like that,” I hurry to clarify. “I’m not interested in them. Just her. But they are, too. Fuck, I told you it was complicated.” I mumble the last part under my breath.

“Complicated doesn’t mean impossible,” Harold says mildly, and I lift my gaze to meet his. “Are you confident you know how they feel?”

Sweet Pea shifts in my lap, and her paws begin kneading my thigh. I debate how to answer Harold’s question.

“And if you are, then what’s stopping you from going for it?” Harold continues, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard from the old man.

“I don’t know,” I eventually answer.

“I think you do.”

I scrub my free hand over my face with a groan. “Harold.”

“Denver,” he sasses right back. “You’re scared. And that’s a pile of shit if I ever did smell one. Nothing good in life ever came without a little risk.”

“Okay, oh wise one, so how do I get Griff on board with this plan to take a risk?” I say, sitting upright and dislodging Sweet Pea. She swishes her tail at me as she prowls over to Harold and hops up on his lap instead. “Because you know damn well he’s a lot more stubborn than I am, and he’s determined to pretend nothing ever happened.”

Harold snorts. “Of course, it’s Griff. Listen, I don’t want to hear a single word more about what may or may not have happened, boy. I’m open-minded and couldn’t care less what you two do in your own time, but let’s keep the conversation PG.”

“Oh my god,” I groan, horrified and a little bit amused. “Nothing between me and Griff, you old fool. But we both want Olivia, and we both⁠—”