And she’s leaving in a week.
“Busy?” My voice comes out steadier than I feel.
“Not really. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to... I...”
Jesus Christ, Graham, finish a sentence.
“Talk. I just wanted to talk,” I finally manage. “I thought we all had fun tonight.”
She shrugs. One shoulder. Doesn’t look up from her phone. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
My jaw clenches. I force it to relax.
“So...” I swallow. My hands find the back of my neck. It’s burning. “You’re still planning to leave? In a week?”
“Yeah.” Now she does look up, and those eyes—fuck, those eyes—pin me in place. “Why would that have changed?”
My hand curls into a fist before I can stop it. Once. Twice. Three times. Four.
The knuckles crack. The sound is satisfying. Grounding.
Why would it have changed?
Because you laughed during poker. Because Sox will be devastated without you. Because for five seconds tonight, you looked like you belonged here. Like maybe youwantedto belong here. And you’re the funniest, most gorgeous woman I’ve ever met.
But I don’t say any of that. Instead, I repeat her own words back to her.
“Family is the ones who don’t leave, right? That’s what you said.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “That’s why I have to go back.”
“We’re your family now, too.” I take another step into the room. “And if Z is really your family, I don’t get why he’d ask you to throw away finishing high school.”
Her face hardens.
Good. Angry Harper is better than indifferent Harper.
“He didn’t ask me to. He just…” She shrugs, looking defensive. “…doesn’t think about that kind of stuff. And he knows we need to go get jobs if we’re going to afford rent.”
My hand curls into a fist before I can stop it. Did whoever this guy is even bother tothinkabout what he’s doing to Harper’s future?
Loser.The word pounds through my skull. This Z guy is a loser, and Harper is so fucking smart she could do anything, be anything, and instead she’s going to?—
“Mom was suggesting community college so you could establish good grades,” I say, fighting to keep my voice level. Fighting not to sound like the condescending asshole I’m probably being. “Build a transcript. You can transfer to any state school after a couple of years.”Or maybe even to a school halfway across the country.There are state schools near Boston, too. I shake off the intrusive thought. “Years, Harper. Doesn’t that tell you something? That we believe in you enough to want to help you plan years ahead?”
She’s watching me now. Really watching. I can’t read the expression on her face.
“But no,” I continue, and I’m losing the battle with my temper, “you’re going to go be self-sacrificing for some guy who doesn’t even?—”
My jaw clenches. I bite the inside of my cheek. The pain is grounding. Count to four. Release.
“Doesn’t even what?” Her voice drops low. Dangerous. “Say it, Caleb.”
Deserve you.
Instead, I try: “Why don’t you come back to Dallas instead? You and Z both.”