Page 33

Harper was another story. She was already dressed. Hair done. Laptop open. That meant she was managing her stress by building a fortress of to-do lists and spreadsheets. Predictable.

“You look like you’re about to file a restraining order,” I said.

“I got a message from Daniel.”

I blinked. “Your Daniel?”

Harper nodded, her expression flat. “He says he’s ‘thinking about things.’ Whatever that means.”

June handed her a fresh cup of coffee. “It means he doesn’t know what to do without you but doesn’t want to admit he already let you go.”

That shut everyone up for a second.

Harper accepted the mug without speaking.

And for once, I didn’t try to make a joke about it.

We spentthe rest of the morning cleaning up what the party had left behind.

June tackled the kitchen. Harper organized the leftover food into labeled containers. I went outside to deal with the wreckage of my fairy lights and paper lanterns, most of which had tangled themselves into something that resembled my mental state.

As I wrestled with a string of lights that had somehow knotted itself around a tree branch, I heard a familiar voice behind me.

“Looks like your yard has a hangover.”

Grant.

I turned.

He was holding a paper bag and a to-go cup. His hair was damp, his jeans slung low on his hips like he hadn’t quite finished waking up yet. He looked unfairly good for someone who’d worked a full day and probably didn’t even own moisturizer.

“You brought reinforcements?” I asked, nodding to the bag.

“Donuts,” he said. “And coffee. No one should have to untangle string lights sober.”

I took the coffee gratefully and sank onto the back steps.

“You really came back.”

“You didn’t think I would?”

“I wasn’t sure,” I said honestly. “Most people don’t.”

“Maybe they just didn’t have a reason to.”

He sat beside me, careful not to crowd.

We didn’t speak for a minute. I drank my coffee. He tore a glazed donut in half and passed me a piece like we were ten and sharing contraband during recess.

It shouldn’t have felt intimate. But it did.

“Do you always leave?” he asked after a while.

I didn’t flinch. “Yeah.”

“Why?”

I stared out at the backyard, now mostly back to normal. Chairs stacked. Table cleared. Lights down.