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One ring. Two. More. Voicemail.
Theo mutters something indistinct, drowned out by the ringing in my ears. He pulls out his phone and announces to Julian, "I’ll be back." His gaze settles on me with a promise: "I'll make sure your brother is safe and protected, Poppy."
But how?
The call drops, severing what feels like the last fragile connection to my brother. He never answers. Why would he? I took his twin from him.
***
Everyone is here: Harper, Kent, Julian, and the mysterious Theo, crowding Julian’s apartment in an attempt to project calmness and control. They reassured me that they had everything under control: that Dan had a team safeguarding Henry and that Andrew would never confront me again.
Lies. I can see it, not just myself, but Harper too, who casts wary glances at Theo as if he were the devil in disguise, scheming to ensnare her soul.
I've been clutching my phone to my chest, treating it as if it were my cherished childhood teddy bear, silently pleading for Henry to return my call.
“Let’s get some fresh air,” Harper suggests, standing up, coming over to me, and gently taking my hand.“We can sit on the balcony while the boys talk.” Her emphasis on "talk" causes Kent, Julian, and Theo to halt mid-conversation and fix their gazes on her as if she's unearthed a secret they hoped to keep buried. As we head to the balcony, she grabs a bottle of wine, skipping the glasses entirely.
Stepping out into the night, the distant skyline of downtown Dallas appears tranquil and carefree, its lights twinkling against the dark expanse above. Harper slides the door shut with a quiet sigh, settles beside me, twists open the wine, and takes a swig directly from the bottle before passing it to me.
"They're lying." She whispers as she licks a drop of wine from her pressed lips.
I accept the bottle but hesitate. "What?"
"Drink, Pops. We’re both going to need it."
So, I do. It feels sacrilegious to gulp down the rich, savory wine in such a manner. "Harps," I use her nickname as well, "I’m not sure how much more of this I can handle."
“How about the truth?” She offers, her gaze drifting back inside where the brothers are embroiled in an emotional discussion.
"Dan's team has a mole. I've been taken off the case," she reveals, nudging the bottle back to my lips. "Drink, Pops." Then she divulges more: that the case has been transferred to someone even Dan fears; she's got the short stick of leaving false clues to catch the mole. Harper doesn't do sidelines; Dan should know that. She's always in the thick of the action, and the way her eyes are calculating and plotting tells me she plans to get directly in the middle again.
Perhaps it's the wine or the sheer number of mental wounds I've sustained. Still, I share everything with her—every insidious doubt Andrew planted in my mind, especially about Theo and how my living and work arrangement might not be so random.
"Tell me he’s lying," I whisper, handing back the bottle.
She takes a long drink. "Do you want me to lie?"
I close my eyes, feeling adrift.
"I don’t know, but I'll find out," Harper says, determination lacing her voice.
"What do I do, Harper?" I murmur, rubbing my swollen eyes. Over my shoulder, Julian and Theo are deep in an argument, their backs to us, with Kent acting as mediator.
Julian has to be my hero. He just has to be.
Grasping the bottle from Harper, I down two hefty swigs, enough to make Jonah's whale envious of the size I can swallow. "Has Julian been lying all this time, Harper? About the apartment, the job, himself?"
Her blue eyes narrow thoughtfully, then flick back to the penthouse. "I think we've found ourselves in a maze, Pops, and there's only one thing to do when you're trapped in a maze."
I swallow hard. "What's that?"
"We have to seek higher ground," she replies, her playful demeanor gone, replaced by the ruthless hacker determined to get what she wants.
"How do we do that?" I ask, pulling my knees up to my chest.
"We do exactly what I've always wanted to do and what I told you to stop doing," she says, placing a reassuring hand on my knee. "We run."
"Run?" I whisper in shock, leaning in. "This," I gesture around us, "isn't a game, Harper, or an action movie. This is my life. What does that mean?" I kick my feet out from under me, "Because these feet don't run. They trip and stumble. That's what I've been doing for years. Trying to escape Andrew, trying to start a new life with Julian only to trip on Andrew again."
