I never got over Caleb Graham.
And I have absolutely no idea what the fuck I’m supposed to do about that.
TEN
HARPER
“Harper. Harper!”
It’s not his voice.
It can’t possibly be.
Because I can’t possibly have been so stupid as to have actually come here.
This is a dream. No, one of those nightmares Ireallyneed to wake up from. There have been so many over the years. Usually I’ve just done something mind-numbingly awkward and beyond mortifying. And yes, almost all of them involve Caleb.
This is only par for the course.
So I block out the deep, resonant voice coming from behind me as I sprint the entire way back to my car. I yank my key out of my pocket and repeatedly shove it into the lock but can’t seem to make it fit.
Fuck!Just go in the fucking lock, you piece of shit key!I knew this little piece of shit Nissan was going to be a lemon when theysoldit to me—it just had lemon vibes—but noooo, Z was so sure it was a solid buy at a steal because the guy didn’t realizewhat he had. Oh, he realized all right. We were the ones getting duped, not the other way around.
And now I have to jerk my key in this fucking lock at the exact right angle before it will?—
A hand closes over mine.
Instead of jerking away and tasering the person who dared step too close—something I accidentally did to Z once when he startled me while I was out in Austin with Bruiser a few years ago?—
Everything in me softens. Just goes loose.
Because it’s Caleb Graham’s touch. And my body’s been imprinted with him, wrong as it is for a thousand reasons.
Then comes his voice, quieter now that he’s close. “After ten years, you’re just going to show up in my backyard and leave without saying one word to me? It’s gonna be likethat, Harper Tucker?”
My eyes fall shut.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
“I didn’t mean to—” I stop. Try again. “I should go. I just wanted to say goodbye to Helen.”
A pause that lasts one beat too long. “Did you?”
There’s something in his tone I don’t recognize. Flat. Careful. Like he’s holding something back behind his teeth and has had a lot of practice doing it.
This isn’t the Caleb I knew at eighteen, who wore every single feeling on his face like a billboard.
This Caleb is?—
I make the mistake of turning around.
Oh.
Oh, this is a problem.
He’s taller. I knew that from a distance when I spotted him at the service, but up close the extra inch or two feels architectural.
He’s broader across the shoulders, which just isn’t fair. His jaw is sharper, too.