Page 32 of Archer

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked. “Where’s your jacket?”

“It takes lower temperatures than this for me to need a jacket.”

She looked me over, lips pursed, but let it go.

We stood in silence for a while, watching the moon rise and the stars come out. The moment was peaceful and calm. Almost enough to make someone forget about stalkers and music boxes.

Almost.

“Can I ask you something?” Harper said finally.

“Sure.”

“Why’d you leave the Marines?”

The question didn’t surprise me. I’d been asked that a lot, usually by other Marines trying to choose the right time.

“My contract was up,” I said. “Knox had just lost his mom unexpectedly and come home to say goodbye. We met Sloane while she was in some trouble and helped her. He knew he wanted to stay, and the experience gave me clarity. I didn’t have to stay enlisted and a world away from my people to make lives safer.”

Harper seemed to process that for a moment. “The decision must’ve been hard. You clearly loved being a Marine.”

I frowned. I did, but how did she know?

“The way you talk about your time in the service. The way you carry yourself.” She turned to face me. “Your tattoos.”

“It was the right thing for me until it wasn’t.”

I looked back at the sea, trying not to think about how many friends I’d lost. About my sister’s black eye, that I could’ve prevented if I’d been home sooner. I’d cheerfully kicked my ex-brother-in-law out of her life the moment I’d returned, but being away had cost my family.

One more reason I knew I could do more good here than somewhere overseas.

Harper studied me for a long moment, then nodded. “Fair enough.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Do you like what you do?”

“Honestly, it’s the only thing that’s ever made sense to me.” She turned her eyes to the sky. “When I’m writing and when I’m performing, I know exactly who I am. The rest of the time I’m still figuring it out.”

“So the writer’s block must be hitting you hard.”

“Yeah.” She sighed. “Without music, I’m unmoored. I feel…adrift.”

I understood that more than she knew. Without the Marines, I sometimes felt the same way.

“You’ll find it again,” I said. “The music. Once you feel safe.”

“I hope you’re right. It feels as if I’ve lost a part of myself. Like he’s stolen it, and I don’t want him to have another ounce of me.”

“No. Hey.” I scowled and nudged her arm until she looked at me. “This asshole doesn’t get to take that from you.”

She looked heartbroken in the moonlight, and my hand lifted by a fraction, preparing for what? To reach for her? To comfort her?

I fixed my arm to my side and cleared my throat. “You’re cold. We should go inside.”

Harper turned away quickly, and I followed her through the sliding doors. “I should get ready for bed and check in with Alexis.”

I dipped my chin, then watched her retreat to her room and close the door.

The cottage was quiet around me, save for the distant crash of waves beyond the glass, and the occasional creak of old wood settling.