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Alyssa narrows her eyes. “Oh, now you want to talk. You’ve ignored all her attempts to talk to you.” She digs her hands on her hips. “Oh, except for last night when you turned up at The Temple drunk as fuck. Do you even remember a word she said to you?”
“Yeah, I do.” And I acted like a complete ass.
“And you still didn’t believe her?” She screws her nose up. “You don’t deserve her.”
“My brother told me the truth. I was wrong.”
“Oh, yourbrothertold you the truth. So, everything is fine now? You expect by turning up here, Harper is going to fall into your arms like nothing happened? Like you didn’t destroy her heart and soul?”
“Where can I find her? Please, I need to fix this.”
Without answering, Alyssa throws me a scathing look. Spinning on the heels of her biker boots, she swings the duffle bag over her shoulder, just missing my face, and storms up the sidewalk.
I sink to the bottom step and pull my phone from my pocket. I dial Harper’s number and wait for her to answer. After a few rings, it goes to voicemail. If she won’t answer my call, maybe she’ll respond to a text. I can’t explain what I’ve learned over a message, so I tell her I need to talk to her urgently. I sit staring at my phone, waiting and hoping for a reply. After fifteen minutes, I assume she’s ignoring me. I try calling again. No answer.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I rise and go back to my car. Where can she be? The Temple doesn’t open until six PM. I glance at the time on the dashboard. That’s not for another four hours. Surely she’ll have to come back home to get ready for work. I get back out of my car; sitting there feels too comfortable for what I’ve done. So, I walk to the front of the apartment and sit on the cold, concrete step and wait.
Chapter Forty-Two
HARPER
Ispendtheafternoonsitting on a hard bench in Central Park, hoping the cold day will numb the pain of losing Finn. My heart is broken—shattered. I don’t think it will ever feel whole again.
Another text from Finn hits my phone. He wants to talk to me. What more can he say? I already know he can’t trust me anymore. Hates me. Thinks I’m having an affair with his father. I turn off the phone. I can’t listen to any more of his harsh words. Not when I’m feeling so fragile—ready to crumble at any moment.
As the afternoon drags on, the temperature drops, and I force myself to move so I don’t freeze to death. I slowly make my way home. Finn is sitting on the bottom step of my apartment. His head is hanging low, and his hands dangle between his knees. My steps falter, and my stomach drops. What is he doing here? I watch him. I can’t move.
Like Finn feels me staring at him, his head snaps up. When he sees me, he propels from the step. “Harper! I’ve been calling you for hours.”
“I know.” I dig my keys out of my bag. I’m proud of myself for being able to form words from my tight throat.
“Why haven’t you answered my calls?”
“I have nothing left to say.” I push past him and enter the building. He follows close behind.
“I have something to say. I need to talk to you.” His eyes plead with me. What had made his gaze turn from anger and disgust to…I’m not sure what this is—maybe sadness and desperation?
Crossing my arms over my chest, I say, “When I wanted to talk, you didn’t want to listen. You had to be drunk before you’d hear me out. Even then, you didn’t really care what I had to say. So, no Finn, I can’t bear to hear more insults.”
I try slipping the key into the lock of my door, but my hand is shaking so much I keep missing. Finn’s big, strong hand covers mine and steadies me. The warmth of his body surrounds me. I squeeze my eyes shut and draw in a deep breath. Fighting the temptation to lean back.
“A lot has happened since we last spoke. Please,” he says the word with such desperation.
My bottom lip trembles. I unlock the door and gesture for him to come inside. I set my bag on the sofa and I sit down.
Finn takes the chair opposite me and rubs his palms up and down his thighs. “I know you told the truth about my father.”
I shoot up straight in my seat.
“Hayden told me about the multiple affairs he had while my mother was alive. He was even suspicious where he was the night Mom died and knew he was with a mistress. So, I confronted my father. Of course, he tried to deny it. Then the truth came out. I’m so sorry for not trusting you. I acted like an asshole. Please forgive me.”
I stare down at my lap again, taking a moment to let what he said sink in. Now he believes me, but not because of what I told him. Disappointment washes over me. He should have trusted me in the first place.
When minutes tick by, he leans forward and holds onto my hands. “Say something.”
Snatching my hands free, I say, “You had to hear it from Hayden before you believedme!”
He hangs his head. “I know. I’m sorry.
