Page 42 of Meant to Be

JOSIE

Istare down at the bracelet, running my fingers over it. It was once attached to me through rain, hail, or shine. Now, it took me over an hour to find it, dredging through many bags, boxes, and anything else that might have concealed it.

Elise. I haven’t thought about her for a long time. Because she dropped me. Like everyone else. Then I left and never spoke to her again.

I haven’t seen or heard about her since I’ve been back. I’m surprised. She was very popular when I left. Maybe she moved. Good on her if she did.

Pushing to my feet, I move around the small flat, beginning to tidy things. My breathing becomes laboured, and soon I give up with a groan, retiring back to the lounge. This damn heat is going to kill me.

I need something cold. And strong.

Dressing in a loose strapless dress, I head down to the pub. I order myself a six-pack takeaway. If my mind is planning on reminiscing down memory lane for the rest of the night, I’m going to need a drink. Or several.

I’m passing the hidden corner of the pub when I hear a loud groan and a thud. Pausing, I hold my breath, straining to hear what’s going on. More groaning. The sound of skin hitting skin.

Slowly, I lower my carry bag and reach for the pepper spray I have in my clutch.

Holding my breath, I inch around the corner silently. A broad-shouldered man is sending his fist into the stomach of an equally tall person. My eyes zero in on his long, tattooed arms. I’d recognise those anywhere.

“You give me what you owe me,” he spits into Harley’s face, his fingers scrunched at the neck of his shirt. “Or I’ll break every finger in your fucking hand.” The man sneers down at him. He reaches for Harley as if to hit him again.

I shoot forward and aim. The spray slingshots out of the can, and directly into the man’s eyes. He screeches, recoiling back, clawing at his eyes. Harley collapses to the ground, blood gushing from his face.

The man stumbles to his feet and makes a blind run for it. I wait until he’s no longer in sight before I drop to my knees.

Harley groans, touching his face.

“Harley!” I exclaim, breathless. “What the hell?”

“Nothing to worry your pretty little head about,” he growls, dark streaks of red running in blurry lines across his skin. “Go run back to your boyfriend.” He spits the wordboyfriendfrom his mouth like it’s a dirty word.

“Come on, get up. I’ll take you home to your parents,” I insist, not having any clue where he lives or who with.

Harley barks out a sharp laugh that makes me wince.

“Yeah?” he asks. “Who do you think that was?” A splatter of blood lands on the pavement next to me. “Thatwasmy dad.”

* * *

Harley collapses on my lounge, his arm over his stomach.

I rush into the kitchen to grab paper towels. I dampen them with water before fetching an empty ice cream container. I sit on my coffee table and begin to lightly dab his wounds. He hisses but stays still, letting me clean him up.

“That was your dad?” I eventually ask. Of course, I knew about Harley’s dad—everyone did—but he has aged a lifetime since I last saw him. I honestly didn’t recognise him at all. “That’s … a fucked up family situation you have there.”

“You think?” he snaps sarcastically, the heat in his eyes making me wither. His expression causes my stomach to tighten. He’s furious—at himself, his dad, at me. For a moment, I recall some things I had seen and heard about his dad back in the day. Somehow, amongst the madness of everything, I’d actually forgotten. He’s hurt. Because he can see it in my eyes that I had. He probably doesn’t realise I spent four years trying to erase every memory I have of him.

“Hey, I’m the one here helping you, aren’t I?” I snarl back.

“Didn’t ask you to.”

“Ungrateful twat,” I mutter.

I press—hard—into a deep wound on his forehead and he growls at me, eyes flashing. I smile sweetly before continuing to clear his face.

Harley’s hand suddenly reaches out, capturing my wrist. My skin flares from his touch, and I’m frozen, watching.

“You’re wearing your bracelet again,” he says.