Page 27

“Brody,” I say, my voice sounding distant and fragile, even to me. I feel drained and disoriented.
He appears at the doorway, eyes closed. “You okay?”
“Can you help me get out?”
He nods without hesitation, stepping closer and extending a steady hand, eyes still shut. I cling to him as he helps me rise from the water. Quickly, he snatches a towel from the counter and wraps me in it.
“I laid out some of my clothes for you,” he says, leading me out of the bathroom to where a neatly folded shirt and sweats with a drawstring are on the bed. “Figured you’d be more comfortable in those.”
“Thanks,” I whisper, slipping them on as he turns away.
I breathe in his familiar scent on the soft fabric, and it calms my racing heart.
I sit on the edge of the mattress, my legs shaky. Brody sits beside me, close enough for comfort but still keeping some space between us. A lump forms in my throat.
“I’m scared,” I admit, feeling too exposed.
He immediately takes my hand, holding it securely. His thumb strokes across my knuckles. “I won’t let anything happen to you. Ever. Micah messed with the wrong fucking one.”
Tears fill my eyes again, spilling down my cheeks despite my best efforts to stop them. I look away, unable to face his intense gaze, but he doesn’t pull back. Instead, silence hangs in the air, heavy but somehow safe, like a protective cocoon.
“Harp, you need to rest,” he finally says, helping me lie down. “I’m right here.”
I curl onto my side, facing away, my heart still racing. As my eyes drift shut, Brody brushes wet strands of hair from my face—the simple gesture speaking louder than words.
Sleep comes quickly, but I’m thrown into restless nightmares. I jolt awake, gasping, my pulse hammering as fragments of memories crash through my mind. It’s relentless, like Micah poisoned my subconscious.
The door creaks open, and Brody steps inside, instantly calming the frantic rhythm of my heart. He holds two bottles of water and a packet of crackers. His phone is pressed to his ear, and when he sees I’m awake, he ends the call without a word.
“Sleeping Beauty finally awake?” he asks, concern softening his eyes.
“Barely,” I whisper, attempting a smile.
Brody keeps his distance. “You feeling any better?”
Tears blur my vision again. “A little.”
He exhales, tension tightening his jaw. “Harper, I’m sorry?—”
“Don’t,” I interrupt. “Don’t you dare apologize. I should’ve listened. You tried to warn me.”
His eyes soften further, guilt mixing with anger. “I shouldn’t have let you get that close to danger. It was reckless.”
My voice trembles as the truth cuts deeper. “I had to figure it out myself.”
Brody instinctively moves closer but pauses. “None of this is your fault. He targeted you, Harper. He knew exactly what to say to draw you in.”
I meet his eyes. “Did Billie know?”
“She figured it out at dinner,” he explains. “He fooled everyone.”
“But not you,” I whisper.
He shakes his head slightly. “No, never me.”
“Thank you,” I say, my voice breaking. “For saving me.”
His expression grows fierce. “Always, Harp.”