Page 51 of Fool Me (Timberline Peak #1)
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
HARLOWE
It’s been five minutes.
Then ten.
I’m still sitting at the bar like some wide-eyed idiot, playing with my empty shot glass—the same one from the tequila I ordered for courage when I walked in. I try to pretend like I’m not counting the seconds.
I shouldn’t be this worked up. I shouldn’t feel like I’m buzzing under my skin, like the whole night has been building to something that’s now . . . stalling. But I do.
I feel like I’ve been waiting on Atlas for hours—every minute since I realized I love him stretching and then doubling after I saw him with Canyon. Now I’m left here waiting, with my heart in my throat and a dozen thoughts racing through my head.
Mostly that I need to talk to him about what I saw. Then I need to tell him how I feel.
But him and Canyon—it threw me for a loop.
For a second, it looked like they were hugging, like maybe everything that happened between them was finally, inexplicably, forgiven. But I know in my head and heart that can’t be right. I don’t believe anything he could have said would make Atlas just forgive him.
But I can’t help shake the feeling that something is wrong, even if I don’t know what it is.
I need to hear from him what happened and to tell him I saw them, to make sure we’re still standing in the same place, on the same page, before I say the other thing that’s been sitting heavy on my heart all day.
Because I love him. I do.
That hasn’t changed.
Whether what I saw was a reconciliation, just a moment of compassion, or something else entirely, I trust him. And I want him to know that. I want to say it before the words get stuck again. Before life decides to throw something else in the way.
I glance toward the door again.
Still no Atlas.
I decide if he doesn’t come back in a few minutes, I’m going after him. I don’t want to waste anymore time pretending I don’t feel this way. Because I’m so completely in love with him it makes my chest ache. And if I don’t say it soon, I think it might crack me open from the inside out.
Pushing the shot glass away, I stand, ready to find him. It hasn’t even been a minute but I don’t care.
I turn to find the last person I want to see coming through the door, nodding over his shoulder at someone outside.
Canyon.
Why is he everywhere lately? He looks up and sees me, his lips pressing into a thin line. I expect him to go the other way, find someone else to bug, but he doesn’t, he heads right toward me.
“Hey, I’m glad I found you,” he rushes out.
I’m immediately on high alert—all of my senses screaming to get away. I turn to do just that when his hand clamps down on my wrist.
“Don’t. You’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”
There’s something about his tone that makes my blood turn to ice.
I don’t fight back. I don’t push his buttons the way I normally would. “What’s that?” I ask calmly.
“I need you to come with me. We need to talk.”
“No,” I say firmly. If I leave this bar with him—a shiver runs up my spine. Just, no.
“You will, and if you don’t, I’ll send A.J. our little video.”
I swear to god my heart hits the floor with the way it drops. “There’s no video.”
He tsks. “Of course there is. Remember that time I bent you over the end of the couch? You always looked so pretty coming apart for me. I needed something to commemorate it. Turns out it makes good blackmail too.”
“No,” I gasp, knowing exactly which time he’s talking about and knowing I did not consent to being recorded.
“Yes, Harlowe, or it goes to my dear big brother. Just imagine how his heart would break, seeing me with you. He loves you more than he ever loved Fiona.”
Fuck. He’s always known just what buttons he needs to push to get people to do what he wants, and he found mine. “I just have to come with you to talk?”
“That’s it. Easy as pie.” He points to the back door leading to the larger lot behind Jude’s. “I’m this way.”
He follows me out, staying right behind me the entire time until I’m in the car.
While he walks around, I fish my phone from my clutch and slip it into my pocket.
“Give me your clutch,” he demands and throws it in the back, out of reach.
There’s a little traffic from Founder’s Day, but we turn out of Summit Square and head out of town.
Canyon picks up speed as we approach Atlas’s property on the edge of town. The further we get from town, the more the dread builds. “Canyon, stop the car. Pull over and let’s talk.” I try to keep the fear from leaking into my voice, opting for a firm tone.
He clicks his tongue, not looking at me. “Can’t do that.”
“I don’t know what’s going on, Canyon, but you need to let me out right now. I agreed to talk, not to be kidnapped.” I use his name again, hoping it gets through to him.
He looks from the road to me. His pupils are pinpoints and his speech slurs just the slightest. I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier, but the bar was loud—he’s high as a kite. He’s wrecked, and he’s taking me somewhere, somewhere away from Atlas, away from our friends, away from Timberline Peak.
“Pull over,” I demand.
His hands twist on the steering wheel. “Asking again is just going to piss me off more.”
It goes against every cell in my body, but I take a deep breath, trying to calm my screaming nervous system and settle on trying to appease him. “Sorry, you’re right. Where are we going?”
“Don’t—just—fuck. Don’t with that fake bullshit—I see through it all. I know you,” he grits out through clenched teeth. “And you hate me. Acting sweet now won’t fool me.”
I need to get him to stop this car, I need to get out, but I can’t risk making him more agitated. Blindly reaching into my pocket so he doesn’t see the light from the screen, I try to use the emergency alert function on my phone.
“Hey, what the fuck?” he yells, his hand coming off the wheel and jerking us toward the center line as he grabs for me.
I scream, taking my phone out now because he’s completely lost it and hitting the last number I called: Atlas. I don’t know if it connects, or if he picks up, I just wrench it out of his reach, like it’s my lifeline.
“Give me the phone,” he yells, his hand swatting me in the process of reaching for my phone.
It stings, and I’m sure my lip is split, but his driving is erratic and I need to get him off the road.
“Canyon, please, you’re going to crash,” I beg.
“Phone, bitch.” He stretches for me and his hand wraps around my wrist, squeezing until it clatters to the console between us. He clamors for it and I push myself back against the door, trying to get as far from him as I can.
“So fucking dumb. Do you even realize what you’ve done?” He rolls down the window. The car swerves dangerously as we get further from town, further from help.
“I’m sorry, Canyon. For all of it. I’ll do whatever you want, just please pull over. You can leave me on the side of the highway for all I care. Just, please, let me go.”
“No, it’s too late for that. You already took everything from me.” My phone goes flying out the window.
“What—what are you talking about?” He’s not making sense, but maybe if I can keep him talking I’ll be okay. I can talk him down. I have training in this. “Canyon, I just want to understand. Can you help me?” I don’t hide the fear in my voice this time or try to sound sweet.
“The job, Harlowe. They picked you—everyone picks you. My family. Search and rescue. You’re not even from here. They’ve known me all my life, and you just waltz in and take everything.”
That’s not at all what happened.
“You could still get the job, Canyon. Are you really going to throw that all away over me?”
“You’re not listening. Fuck—” He pulls at his hair, turning toward me and taking his eyes off the road for too long. “The only chance I have is you turning it down.”
I don’t even have time to process what he’s saying. I lunge for the steering wheel and he pushes me back, holding on to the wheel with one hand.
“They already decided. I stopped by the shed this morning and heard Travis talking to Sheriff Evans. You got the fucking job, not me.”
“Stop!” He’s going too fast for the corner, even with two hands and a clear head. My screams fill the car as I cover my head and just try to hang on.