Page 26

26

HARPER

T he noose is tightening around my neck, making it harder for me to breathe.

As much as I’d like to pretend this is all an act, too many times I’ve slipped today.

It’s so easy being around Ford.

A decade apart is no match for the history we have together.

And discovering new things about each other has thrown me for a loop.

The first time it happened, I didn’t even realize I dropped the carefully orchestrated act.

Ford was shirtless, standing on the small ladder, working on the edges of the ceiling.

I teased him that he really seemed to know what he was doing, which was surprising for a rich hockey player.

He laughed and hit me with a shocking revelation.

He volunteers at the city community center, doing a wide variety of things.

Painting, fixing broken faucets, unclogging toilets, and helping kids train for sports.

Not just hockey, although that’s his area of expertise.

He’s recruited friends from other sports, such as football, soccer, gymnastics, track, basketball, and baseball, to help teach the kids drills.

My heart fucking melted.

I asked questions, forgetting I was supposed to be working.

The animated way he talked about the kids he works with, the respect he has for them and vice versa, was evident in every tale he wove.

His huge heart was on display when one of the parents didn’t show up to pick up their kid.

Ford went out of his way to find out what happened, keeping the boy safe with him until he got ahold of the mother, who had an accident at work and had been in the ER getting stitches.

Ford drove her son there, then took them home.

Then he picked up Connor and had him drive the woman’s car back to her house.

I know Ford has a big heart.

At least, he always did when we were kids and in college.

But this… this is a whole new level of unexpected.

His newfound wealth and publicity didn’t change him.

At least, not in the way I thought it would.

If anything, he’s using his increased visibility and money to do good in the world.

I turned and began painting, hoping like hell he didn’t see the way he was affecting me.

He’s so fucking observant when it comes to me, there’s a part of me convinced he did, but I’m choosing to live in denial.

We spent the rest of the day working together, the conversation flowing easily.

Everything felt too familiar.

Comforting.

I wanted to fucking hate it.

I was desperate to believe this was part of my plan.

But I’d only be lying to myself.

Terror spikes inside my chest, making my hands shake as I stand in the shower.

It isn’t just how well Ford and I are getting along that shakes me to my core.

It’s the memories of my childhood flooding my head.

“Why are you crying, Mom?”

My hands rubbed over her shaking shoulders as she sat at the kitchen table, her head in her hands.

She refused to look at me as her sobs filled the room.

Finally, she sniffed, wiping the tears away.

“It’s fine, Harper. Really. I just had a bad day today. Sometimes, I just need to cry and get it out. Then I feel better.”

I nodded, not at all convinced.

She was hiding something.

I stuck close to her the rest of the night, observing her.

My dad had to travel out of town for the week because of his job, and I was noticing things I hadn’t before.

Things that were different from my friends’ families.

My mom seemed lost and helpless, and it bothered me so much that I started spying on her.

I pretended to be asleep, but when I heard her voice, I snuck out and followed the sound.

She was on the couch, her back to me, talking to Tawnya, her best friend.

“I don’t know what to do if he leaves me for her. I don’t know how I’ll manage. I can’t raise Harper on my own.”

She hiccupped, raising the glass of wine to her lips, and took a long drink.

“My husband cooks, pays the bills, takes care of the yard, helps with Harper, and does household chores.”

My brows narrowed as I listened to her words.

Part of me felt bad, while the other part started getting irrationally angry.

She wasn’t worried about Dad leaving us and shattering our family.

She was worried about how she’d survive without him because she was… helpless.

I listened to more of her conversation before I turned around and went back to my bedroom.

As I slipped beneath the covers, I vowed never to be that dependent on anyone.

I was determined that I wouldn’t follow in my mom’s footsteps.

I’d be independent.

Unlike her.

Connor and Ford’s laughter carries into the bathroom, pulling me from my thoughts.

Despite the hot water pouring over my skin, I’m shivering, unable to shake the memory.

Horror wraps around me like a blanket.

I’m doing what I said I’d never do.

A few days in Ford’s world, and I start handing over independence, relying on him.

What the hell is wrong with me?

This needs to stop.

As I dry myself with a towel, I begin making plans.

Excitement fills me.

Yes. This will work.

It has to.

Ford is sound asleep beside me, his grip on me loose.

I watch his face as I slip from his arms and bed, quietly putting on my sweatpants and sweatshirt.

Tiptoeing across the floor, I slip my feet into my sneakers.

Then I double-check that my cash and card are in my pocket.

My heart thrashes inside my chest as I tiptoe to the door, expecting Ford’s eyes to fly open and stop me from leaving.

But when I leave his room, silently closing the door behind me, a thrill of victory rolls through me. I let out the breath I’ve been holding, then silently sneak down the stairs.

Connor is sprawled on the couch.

The light from the TV illuminates his sleeping face.

I go to the door, my eyes darting between him and the stairs.

But the house is silent as everyone inside slumbers.

Everyone except me.

Unlocking the front door, I slip out, closing it behind me.

My shaky breaths burst from my lungs as I hurry around the side of the house to the backyard. My eyes dart between the ground and the woods in the distance.

My chance to escape.

Freedom.

I pause, taking a deep inhale before exhaling.

The night air is cool against my overheated skin as I bolt across the yard, my sneakers barely making a sound against the damp grass.

My breath hitches, my heart pounding in my ears like a warning drum.

Keep going.

Don’t stop.

Don’t look back.

I reach the tree line and plunge into the woods, my feet crunching over twigs and damp leaves. The darkness closes in around me, thick and suffocating.

Moonlight barely filters through the branches, casting eerie shadows that stretch and twist like ghostly fingers.

A branch snaps behind me, breaking the silence.

I whirl around, my heart slamming into my ribs.

My lungs seize, waiting, and listening.

Nothing.

It’s just an animal.

Probably a deer or raccoon.

Or maybe it was only the wind.

I swallow hard, forcing my legs to move, but now, every little noise makes me panic.

A rustling of leaves to my left.

A creak of wood groaning in the darkness.

The crunch of a step that’s not my own causes my heart to pound like a drum.

The feeling slithers up my spine like ice.

A certainty rolls through me.

Someone is here.

I slow down, my breaths uneven.

My ears strain.

A sound that is too human, too careful, is just beyond the trees.

I catch a faint shift of movement from the corner of my eyes.

Something barely perceptible.

Is it Ford? Did he wake up?

Did Connor hear the front door?

The thought should be comforting.

But something feels wrong.

I push forward, disappearing deeper into the forest, sweat slicking my palms.

My fingers curl into fists as determination pumps through my veins.

The faster I get to the road, the faster I?—

A shape looms in front of me.

I freeze mid-step, my breath catching in my throat.

My eyes strain, zeroing in on the shadow among the trees.

It’s not moving.

Not breathing.

Just… watching.

Waiting.

I blink again.

My eyes adjust, searching for details in the dark.

The shadowed figure is tall and broad.

It’s the silhouette of a man.

My stomach twists, nausea creeping up my throat.

I catch a sliver of white.

My heart pounds in my ears when I realize it’s a mask.

Oh, God, no.

No, no, no.

My lungs constrict.

My body turns to ice as I stand there, frozen.

The mask gleams in the darkness, pale and featureless.

I blink again.

The white hockey mask comes into focus.

There’s no expression.

No emotion.

The figure just stares at me, his eyes dark and empty.

My breath rattles from me in a short, shaky burst.

He doesn’t move.

Neither do I.

A long, horrible moment stretches between us, his eyes never leaving mine.

And then, his head tilts.

A slow, deliberate motion.

I choke on my own breath.

My legs are suddenly jelly beneath me.

I turn and run for my life.