Page 87 of Most Likely to Fear Love

CASSIDY

As I approached the door of Harle’s cabin, my heart skipped a few beats. That was happening more and more these days. Just a little thrill at the idea of seeing him. Today was Thursday, which left only a few days until our arrangement ended. I was determined to make the most of it.

The moment I stepped through the door, though, something felt wrong. The silence hit me first. No classic rock playing from the kitchen radio, no off-key humming, none of the usual chaos of Harle’s evening routine. Every day this week, I’d come in from work to find him in the kitchen, already cooking dinner for us. But now the space was empty, the air still and heavy with an unfamiliar quiet.

The sound of my heels clicking against the hardwood floor was unnaturally loud in the silence. I hesitated, my fingers still wrapped around the strap of my purse, that wrong feeling intensifying in my gut.

“Harle?” My voice echoed slightly in the empty space.

Nothing.

I hung my purse on the hook near the door, trying to ignore the flutter of anxiety in my chest. Maybe he was just taking a liedown? Yeah, of course. Just a little nap. I practically ran for the bedroom and shoved the door wide. Empty.

My heart was really picking up speed now. This wasn’t like him. Had he gone out somewhere without telling me? No, he’d text, at the very least. I pulled out my phone. No messages.

Fuck. What if he’d hurt himself out in the yard. I moved to the back door, my hand trembling slightly as I pulled it open.

He wasn’t in any of the paddocks. Come to think of it, neither were the dogs.

Okay. Maybe he’d just taken them for a walk before dinner?

I stepped off the deck, my heels sinking into the soft earth as I shaded my eyes from the setting sun and scanned the edge of the lake. The water was mirror-smooth, reflecting the darkening sky above. No sign of him. Turning in the other direction, I finally spotted him. He was a ways down the bank, sitting on a log, under the shade of a large oak tree.

Even from this distance, I could tell something was wrong. The usual easy energy that surrounded him like an aura was gone, replaced by something heavy and dark. Something that made my chest ache just looking at him.

I hesitated, not sure what to do. Deciding that at the very least, I should check on him, I started walking. As I got closer, I could see him picking leaves off a fallen tree branch, methodically tearing each one into tiny pieces before letting them flutter towards the water. His shoulders were slumped, his entire body radiating a kind of misery I’d never seen from him before.

My steps faltered. Maybe I should just leave him alone, give him space. That’s what I would want, after all. But then I remembered how he’d held me that night when I was falling apart, how he hadn’t let me push him away. How his arms had felt like the only thing keeping me from completely shattering.

I couldn’t leave him like this.

The grass was damp and a little slippery beneath my feet as I picked my way down the bank. Max and Buddy lay at Harle’s feet, both dogs unnaturally still, their eyes fixed on their master with an almost human concern.

“Harle.” My voice was soft, uncertain. I was surprised he even heard it.

He glanced up, and the look in his eyes hit me square in the chest. Pure, unadulterated pain. My heart clenched, and without a second thought, I moved forward, slipped into his lap, and wrapped my arms around him.

A tremor moved through him, and after a beat, he hugged me back, his arms tightening around me like I was a lifeline. I held him for a long time, the world around us fading away until it was just the two of us, the gentle lap of water against the shore, and the rustle of leaves overhead. Harle was the first to pull away, his hands moving to cup my face. He looked at me for a moment, then leaned in to brush a light kiss over my lips.

I searched his eyes as he pulled back, my heart aching at the rawness I saw there. “Are you okay?”

He hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, I’ll get through it.”

“Is it the anniversary you mentioned the other night?”

He paused, then said, “Yeah.”

I swallowed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Harle shook his head lightly. “Maybe later.” He took a breath, then tried to smile. “You hungry?”

Recognizing it for the diversionary tactic it was, I replied, “Yeah, I could eat.” I pushed to my feet. “But I’m cooking tonight.”

He started to shake his head. “Cass?—”

“No arguments.” I held out my hand to him, surprised by my own boldness. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

Something shifted in his expression. Surprise, maybe, or recognition. He took my hand, his large palm engulfing mine,and let me pull him to his feet. The dogs scrambled up too, pressing close to his legs as we made our way back to the house.

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