Page 48 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)

CHAPTER

THIRTY-FIVE

ATLAS

I stand in the kitchen, staring at the brisket pan like it holds answers, as my parents back out of the driveway, but there’s only a layer of congealed fat and the memory of a dinner that felt almost normal—until it wasn’t. My brother wasn’t here, and he still found a way to ruin things.

Back out on the patio, I find Harlowe staring at the sunset. She’s been playing it cool all evening—asking my dad about work and complimenting my mom’s cobbler—but I know her well enough to recognize when something is bothering her.

She hasn’t met my eyes since dessert.

I reach across the table and wrap my fingers around hers. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

For a second, she just looks at our hands, then she draws in a shaky breath. “I saw your brother tonight, before dinner, at the General Store.”

The back of my neck prickles. “What happened?”

“Canyon.” The name lands heavily between us, like an explanation. “He cornered me.”

That’s all it takes. My pulse surges. I sit up straighter, resisting the instinct to push away from the table and go find him right now.

She keeps going. “I was picking up stuff for the salad and he just . . . showed up. Blocked my cart. Said some messed up things.”

“What kind of things?” My voice is tight as my teeth grind together and my grip on her hand tightens.

She squeezes back, grounding me. “I know they were all bullshit, but he still has this way of getting in my head.”

“What did he say?” he asks again.

“He said our relationship was about payback for Fiona. That you’re trying to make him jealous. That it’s not real.”

I close my eyes. “Jesus.”

“He said you’d fold if your mom asked you to fix things with him—that you moved home for them, and I’m the one standing in the way.” Perfect fucking timing with moving out.

I shake my head, heart hammering. “That’s not true. You know that’s not true, right?”

She nods, but there’s hesitation there—she’s still uneasy.

“What else?”

“He also said . . .” She pauses, looking down at our joined hands. “He said I’m the only one who still blames him—that my dad doesn’t. That they wouldn’t have let him interview for the job if I was right.”

Out of all the things he said, that one bothers me the most. “Fuck, that’s not right.”

“No,” she whispers. “But for a split second . . . I questioned it all. And I hate that he can still do that to me—put even an ounce of doubt in my mind over things I know . . . things I believe.”

I want to punch him for making her doubt us, or herself, for even a second.

“And then your mom said he’s moving out, that she seems to think it’s because he doesn’t want you to feel like you have to tiptoe around them. He made a comment to me about bringing your family back together to make amends for what he’s done.”

My teeth clench. It’s a lie. He’s playing games; I can feel it. “That’s the first I’m hearing of it.”

“I know. That’s what made it worse. Because, for a second, it almost sounded real. Like maybe he’s changing and I’m the one holding onto something that everyone else has let go of.”

She finally looks at me, eyes glassy, but not giving into her emotions. “And I worried about what my issues with him would do to you.”

I slide my chair closer and pull her into me, our foreheads nearly touching.

“Harlowe,” I say, “you don’t owe him forgiveness. Not for me. Not for anyone. What happened on that mountain changed your life, and your dad’s. I don’t care what he tells himself to sleep at night, you get to carry that in whatever way you need to.”

Her breath hitches. “What if I never make peace with him? What does that mean for us and for you?”

“I want you to do what’s right for you, but if you’re asking if I think he’s being honest—no.

I think he’s desperate and manipulating every angle he can.

My parents want to see the best in him, even when they shouldn’t.

It’s always been like that.” I sigh pushing a hand through my hair.

“My mom lost her younger brother in a car accident right before Canyon was born. They could be twins, they look so much alike. And from what I’ve heard, their personalities are very similar.

My uncle was wild, and my grandparents were super hard on him—it only pushed him away.

The night he died, my grandpa kicked him out and told him not to come back until he straightened himself out.

My mom was there and she didn’t step in. ”

Harlowe’s hand comes up to cover her inhale. I can see the moment she understands why my mom acts the way she does with Canyon.

“I didn’t know.”

I’m not surprised. I’d only heard good things about Uncle Carter until the day I sat my mom down after I’d started therapy in college and told my parents pieces of what happened between Canyon and I.

My mom broke down when I told her I didn’t want to see him anymore.

“We don’t really talk about it, and I’m not sure Canyon even knows how deeply it impacted my mom. ”

We’re quiet for a long moment as the sun dips below the horizon.

Then she whispers, “Can you live like this—not fixing things with him and being in the same place?”

“Yes.” I don’t tell her it might be hard with my parents—mom especially. Harlowe’s burden is heavy enough, and this is not hers to carry, it’s mine.

“I think you should talk to him, just to get a sense of what he’s playing at. Not for me, but for you. It feels like he’s trying to set you up to fall.”

“The enemy you know?” I ask, and she nods solemnly.

There’s something to her idea. I get the sense that Canyon’s not done pushing, and that tonight was only the beginning. But first, I need to cool off because a conversation with him right now would be a disaster.