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"Just someone."
"No name? No sex jokes? This was serious."
No reply. Shit, it was.
"Who was he?"
She shakes her head. "It doesn’t matter now. He left." Her voice changes pitch.
He broke her heart—I see it now—and his departure was the final nail in her coffin. That’s why she’s so closed off to love and commitments.
"I should have seen it too, Harper. We both were selfish in our relationships. It’s okay. It happens. We’re learning from the past."
She nods. "Chicks before dicks."
I snort a giggle. "I love you, and I’m sorry, but don’t let one bad memory taint your future," I tell her.
"Take a spoon and swallow down your own advice," she retorts with a sly grin.
"Was running from Kent and Julian a mistake?" I voice.
She shrugs. "Maybe. Maybe not. We need answers, and when men are desperate, they tend to give them up. Plus, I’m not about to let my bestie get 'dick whipped'—we need a girls' trip. Worst case, we just tell them that’s what this is."
"And what about the agents you incapacitated?"
"Morning cardio," she smirks.
And then we both tumble into laughter. That’s what I love about Harper; even when the dark consumes me, her laughter is my light.
"I’ll stop and get gas. You can call Julian, but no details about where we’re going. I’m not suffering back roads and germ-infested gas stations for you to call in his private jet to sweep you away as soon as we reach our location."
"Deal," I grin.
Chapter 32
Poppy
The first ring of the phone has me thinking that my stomach has decided to revolt against me because I feel like I'm going to hurl. Again.
Why can't I be the type of badass female who feeds off of nerves instead of purging them?
Maybe I need to try deep breathing or take a Lamaze class.
When a second car pulls into the gas station, a sliver of relief cuts through my apprehension. The scene around us could easily be mistaken for the backdrop of a horror movie. At this moment, germs are the least of my worries—I'm more concerned that Harper might return sporting a chopped-off limb as a grim souvenir.
A man exits the second car. I size him up as likely in his early thirties, tall and undeniably handsome, with a head of brown hair.
Why the hell is a man like that in these backwoods?
He throws a glance our way, and I can't help but think he's probably assessing if he's about to stumble upon a crime scene. As Harper makes her way back from the gas station, she crosses paths with him. They exchange a brief hello, his pronounced accent catching Harper's attention for a moment longer than expected before she proceeds to pump gas.
Another ring.
I tap my foot against the gravel. I opened the car door, hoping it would send some air inside to cool my nerves, but I only felt dread.
Will Julian not answer?
“Hello.” Julian's familiar voice finally fills the air, and my heart does a precarious skip.
