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She settles back on the couch next to me.
“To have someone look at me the way Asher looks at you—that’s the dream, isn’t it?” I say, sipping the coffee, nearly begging the warmth to seep into my chilled bones.
Billie’s eyes are filled with quiet certainty as she squeezes my hand. “Brody does, Harp. He always has.”
My heart flutters at her words; emotions rise, and I don’t know how to handle them. I blink rapidly, forcing back fresh tears, and Billie shifts closer.
“You two have always had something special. It took you too long to see it, but it’s there, burning so fucking bright.” Billie’s voice is gentle and sincere, thoughtful and understanding. “Trust that.”
I nod, leaning into the comfort of my best friend’s presence, absorbing the reassurance in her words. I didn’t realize how much I’d missed this, missed her. Right now, she’s the glue that’s holding me together.
“Brody’s probably already on his way here now,” Billie says with certainty.
“I hope you’re right,” I whisper quietly, my voice barely audible.
Asher pops into our conversation. “She always is.”
It causes me to laugh because it’s true.
Billie glares at him. “And don’t either of you ever forget it.”
When I look at the two of them, I believe my own happily ever after is possible and that Brody will find his way through the storm to find me. I cling to her words, desperately wanting to believe Brody’s safe.
The evening fades into night as I lie back on the couch and watchThe Golden Girls. Billie watches it with me while Asher continues to work. We order food, and I barely eat because I’m too upset. I want sleep to take me under, but it refuses. Every time I close my eyes, the image of metal in Brody’s hand, Micah’s arrogant smirk, and the shadowed figure stepping from the woods appear in my mind. My heart won’t stop racing. Anxiety claws at me relentlessly.
With a frustrated exhale, I finally sit up, wishing the couch would suck me in. Billie’s steady breathing drifts from the other side of the couch. I stand up, placing a blanket over her, and exhale a long breath. The dim light from the lamp casts shadows along the walls.
A quiet tapping on keys draws my attention toward the kitchen island, where Asher is now sitting. His face is illuminated by the glow of his laptop screen.
He glances up, eyebrows lifting slightly. “Can’t sleep?”
I shake my head, moving toward the refrigerator to grab a bottle of water. “Every time I close my eyes, it’s just …” I trail off, unable to voice it again, the memories still too raw.
Asher nods with quiet understanding, turning his gaze back to the screen. “I understand how that is.”
I sit in the chair across from him, and he looks up at me.
“How did you learn about Brody and Eden?” I bluntly ask.
His expression softens, and he smiles. “He told you I knew?”
I nod. “How?”
Asher swallows hard, and he hesitates, but his resolve breaks on his exhale. “I learned it through an old letter.”
He gives me a sad smile. “Eden wasn’t the type to settle down with anyone, Harp. She and Nick were very much alike in that manner—stubborn, but unable to commit. If you’re asking because?—”
“I’m not jealous. At our age, past relationships are a part of life. I was just curious—that’s all. We were friends. Not close, but I knew I could count on her. So did Billie. She wanted us to succeed in our business and told us she’d do whatever she could to help us during our many coffee chats. Seems as if you picked up the slack,” I tell him.
He nods, grinning. “I’ll always have your back.”
He glances back at his laptop.
“What are you working on?” I ask.
Asher’s jaw clenches tight, and his eyes are shadowed with seriousness. “I’m tracking Micah’s movements—who he’s been talking to, where he’s going. Patterns, anything to stay ahead of him.”
“Find anything useful?” I ask, chugging water down, hoping it will cool the inferno burning inside of me.