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He studies me, his gaze warm and curious. “For what?”
“For being here,” I say, feeling the emotion swelling in my chest. “For not forcing me to talk about things before I’m ready. For just knowing exactly what I need.”
“Always.” His expression softens, tenderness flooding his features as he reaches up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear.
My breath catches sharply, and before I can stop it, words slip from my lips.
“You’re going to fall in love, Brody Calloway. And when you do, it’ll change everything you’ve ever known about yourself.” My eyes widen in surprise, and I cover my mouth. “Whoops.”
“Did you just give me one of your famous love prophecies?”
I squeeze my eyes shut and nod. I open one eye to peek at him.
“Well then, I’ll drink to that.” Brody just gives a slow, easy chuckle, lifting the tequila to his lips, his eyes shining warmly in the firelight. He doesn’t question or deny it. Instead, he just smiles, a knowing smile, as if he already knew, as if I merely confirmed something he’d accepted long before tonight.
My heart skips, and butterflies flood through me as I rest my head against his chest again, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. I close my eyes, savoring the peace that settles over us.
I know without a doubt that I’m not alone. I have an entire army behind me, people who love me unconditionally.
And most importantly, right now, I have Brody, and he has me.
18
BRODY
The next morning, Harper sits across from me, her expression softer than it has been in days. Something in my chest eases at the sight. Yesterday’s reunion—Billie holding her close, Zane’s careful protectiveness, the strength she drew from being around those who cared the absolute most—has left a calm I haven’t felt since I rescued Harper.
She glances up and catches me looking at her. She tilts her head, raising one eyebrow in challenge, a teasing smile tugging at her mouth. “See something interesting?”
“You could say that,” I reply, not bothering to hide the amusement in my voice.
Her cheeks flush a faint pink, the color spreading down her neck, and I smile deeper.
“You seem better today. Happier.”
She nods, eyes drifting toward the window, lost in thought for a moment. When her gaze returns to me, she offers a sincere smile. “Yesterday meant more than I realized it would. Having everyone here reminded me that people still believe in me and care.”
“You were never alone, Harp,” I tell her firmly. “Not then. Not now. Never.”
Gratitude and something warm flicker behind her careful expression. Silence hangs between us, but it’s easy and comfortable.
I watch her, sensing she needs something more than just sitting around the cabin today. Something away from this space where we’ve both processed too many heavy moments lately. An idea sparks in my mind, one I’ve been holding on to for the perfect moment.
I push myself away from the table, standing. “Let’s go hiking. Not to the pond. Somewhere different.”
She’s instantly intrigued. “Yeah? Sounds like fun.”
“You’ll love it,” I promise, already imagining the excitement she’ll have when she sees where I’m taking her.
She studies me, curiosity dancing in her gaze. “So mysterious, Calloway.”
“Always,” I reply.
As Harper moves toward the door and slides on her shoes, I watch her, taking in the subtle confidence returning to her steps and the gentle sway of her hair down her back. I promised myself I’d never let anyone get too close again, never lower my walls enough to feel this. But as Harper glances back at me, her eyes bright and trusting, I know I’ve already lost that battle. Fuck, with Harper, I’ve lost the war. And right now, I couldn’t care less.
I smirk as I hold a hand out to her. Her fingers lock with mine. The simple touch sends a slow pulse of heat through my veins. We walk together down the trail, and there is nowhere else I’d rather be.
This time, I openly steal glances of her, and we exchange smiles when our eyes meet. The anticipation of Harper’s reaction hums beneath my skin as we navigate the path. I crave her reaction when she experiences something new. The urge to impress her—to show her something meaningful, something uniquely mine—is stronger than I’d like to admit.