Page 83 of On the Breakaway

“Why didn’t you?”

The fire pops between us. Tank nudges Harper’s hand until she pets him again.

“I just,” she says, eyes glassy from more than alcohol now, “didn’t want to go home and sit alone while he was holed up in his office all night.”

My heart breaks for her because Harper loves so deeply, it practically pours out of her. She’s spent years taking care of everyone around her without asking for much back. And now, I’m thinking about the way she looked at dinner this week. How even earlier tonight she’d looked lonely standing next to her own husband.

I’ve never liked James. He was a cocky, frat bro who expected the world to bend for him. But Harper loved him, and I used to think he loved her enough for the rest not to matter.

Right now, though, I’d be more than happy to shove him off a cliff.

“Let’s go,” I say, pulling her to her feet.

I tug her along behind me like a lost child until we get back inside. It looks like the rest of the party has cleared out, leaving Wyatt and Grayson in the living room cleaning up.

“We’re going to sit out front and order an Uber back to my place.” I don’t really say it to anyone in particular.

I hear them whisper back and forth to each other before Wyatt nods.

My eyes lift toward Grayson to find him already looking at me. For once, there’s no teasing or argument waiting in his eyes. That one look is all it takes for me to know he has no plans to let me Uber anywhere.

“I’ll grab my keys.” He sets down a trash bag and heads to the kitchen.

For reasons I can’t explain, I don’t fight him on it.

Tank circles Harper’s feet while we push on to the entryway, forcing Wyatt to stop what he’s doing and wrangle the dog before he escapes out the front door with us.

Harper drops to her knees and wraps both arms around Tank. “He loves me.”

“I’m sure he does.” I smile down at her.

“Wyatt,” Harper starts. “I think I like your dog more than my husband.”

My smile drops instantly because it might sound like a joke, but it’s not really. I can tell the difference.

Wyatt mumbles under his breath, “Yeah, after tonight, I can see why.”

I glare at him, but considering I feel the same way about that asshat, there’s not much heat behind it.

When Grayson turns back up with his keys, we head to his car. Harper climbs in the backseat, curling up against the window.

“Are you sober?” I ask him.

His mouth twitches faintly at our role reversal. “Had two beers three hours ago.”

I nod once and slide into the back beside Harper. If Grayson was expecting me to ride up front, he doesn’t show it. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or offended by that.

The drive begins quietly. Streetlights blur past the windows while music plays low through the speakers. I watch Grayson through the mirror, but his eyes stay fixed on the road as if trying to give us privacy.

Which turns out to be a good thing, considering what Harper says next.

“I don’t know how we got here.”

The vulnerability in her voice is like a punch to the gut.

Harper and James have always been a solid couple. They’re the kind of couple people point at when they talk about soulmates.

And look how that’s turning out.