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A deafening shot rings out, echoing painfully against the concrete walls. Time slows as silence follows, broken only by the ringing in my ears.
Shock registers on Micah’s face; his eyes widen, surprise replacing his rage. For a heartbeat, we freeze, both of us processing the sudden violence of that gunshot. The blast drowns out every other sound as time slows to a crawl.
I force myself to breathe, but my chest feels impossibly tight, as though a heavy weight presses firmly against it. I glance down as ice floods through my veins. This time, my hands and my shirt are smeared with blood.
“Brody!” Nick’s voice cuts through my fight or flight haze.
But everything is too blurry and frantic.
31
HARPER
The world is too still.
I sit on the edge of my couch, fists clenched in the hem of my sweater, trying to breathe normally, like it’s any other night, like I’m not waiting to find out if someone I love is safe. Billie’s beside me, flipping through a magazine she hasn’t looked at once. Her foot taps impatiently, but she hasn’t said a word in twenty minutes.
Then my phone rings, pulling us both away. I rush and reach forward, nearly lunging for it.
I see it’s Nick, and my heart jerks forward. I quickly answer and put it on speakerphone. “Nick?”
“Harper … Brody … there was a gun … he’s not …”
His voice hits me like a slap in the face. It’s ragged, breathless, and hysterical.
The call cuts out, and I stare at the screen. It’s just silence.
He’s not …
He’s not … what?
Billie’s brows are furrowed, and her jaw is set. I glance at her, growing as hysterical as Nick sounded.
He’s not what? Breathing? Conscious? Alive?
A strange noise claws out of my throat as the phone slips from my hand and drops to the rug with a thud. I don’t move to pick it up as panic rises in my belly. The edges of the room start to tilt, and my lungs seize.
“Harper?” Billie’s voice snaps toward me.
But I can’t respond. I can’t speak. I can’t even think. There’s a buzzing in my ears, high and sharp, drowning everything. I’m already falling. Backward. Forward. Into a mental pit that I cannot climb out of. I stand up, needing to feel like the couch isn’t sucking me in, but when I do, my knees hit the floor. Pain stretches up my legs, but it barely registers as a sob escapes me.
I can’t breathe, and I’m having a full-blown panic attack. There is no air in this room. My hands press against my chest as I gasp to breathe.
Billie drops to the floor beside me. “Harper, look at me. Breathe. Okay? Just breathe. Count to ten.”
I can’t remember the last time I had a panic attack like this, where I felt like I’d die. My heart shatters, and I try to suck in air; noises release from me, and I feel like I’m drowning, actually suffocating.
“Harp, please. Look at me. Look at me,” she repeats.
I try to meet her eyes, the tears blurring my vision.
Words won’t form. My throat closes up. The world narrows to three things—Billie’s hands gripping me, the ringing in my ears, and the memory of Brody telling me he’s going to make me his wife, that we have a future together. My chest collapses inward. I can’t do this. I’m not made for this life where the man I love is put into constant danger.
“Harper!” Billie shakes me. “You don’t know anything yet. You hear me? You don’tknow.”
I know this feeling. I know this silence. I know what it’s like to have someone ripped out of your life mid-sentence. I know what it feels like to grieve a life I didn’t get to live with someone who’s ended too early. I think of my mother and the last time I saw her. Even then, I didn’t know it would be the last time. I was only a kid, eight years old, and I didn’t understand what was going on. And here I am, twenty-four years later, feeling the same despair, feeling as if my entire world is shattering around me.
My head drops, and I fold into myself, sobbing so hard that it hurts. The air still won’t come. My nails dig into my arms like I’m trying to hold myself together by force alone. Billie holds me tight, hugging me like she won’t let my dark thoughts swallow me whole.