Page 89 of Most Likely to Fear Love

After some time, I whispered, “I’m sorry you’re hurting.”

He leaned down and kissed the top of my head, his lips warm against my hair. “Thanks, darlin’.”

I thought that was it, that he wasn’t going to say anything else, but he surprised me. “It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, it doesn’t get any easier.”

Pain curled around my heart, because that was exactly how it was for me. “How long has it been?”

“Seven years.”

He dragged in a ragged breath, his eyes fixed on the fire as the flames flickered and danced, reflecting in his gaze. “His name was Jackson,” Harle said, his voice quiet. “We were friends since high school. Beyond excited when we both got into Yale, and even more when we graduated. We were going to take over the world together.” He gave a short, hollow laugh. “And for a while, it felt like we did.”

His arm tightened around me.

“We started a business right after finishing school. It took off. Everything we touched seemed to turn to gold. It was more money than we ever imagined, and we were just a couple of kids. Stupid, young, thinking we were untouchable.” His voice cracked slightly. “Such a fucking cliche.”

My heart ached for him, feeling the sadness in his words. I slipped my hand in his, lacing his fingers with mine and squeezing. He squeezed back, hard.

“We got the fast cars, the penthouses, a yacht.” He paused, shaking his head slightly. “It was all so flashy. We got caught upin it. The drugs, alcohol, partying like there was no tomorrow. I thought we were invincible.” His voice dropped so low I had to strain to hear him.

“And then one night...” He swallowed hard. “One night, Jackson didn’t wake up. Overdose. Just like that, it was over.”

Fuck. The raw grief in his voice was almost overwhelming. “What did you do?”

“I lost my fucking mind.” The words came out rough, like they were being dragged from somewhere deep inside him. “Pushed myself harder, further, beyond any limit I set for myself. I should be dead, Cassidy. But I wasn’t given that grace, no matter how hard I tried.”

Double fuck.

He looked down, his jaw tightening. “After that, I couldn’t stay. Couldn’t do it anymore. I cashed it all in and bought this place. Just wanted somewhere quiet. Somewhere I could remember him without all the noise. Somewhere I could atone.”

Something clicked. “Somewhere you could balance the ledger.”

“Exactly.” His voice softened. “Maybe if I give enough, help enough, my life will be worth something. There’s some meaning to the fact that I made it and Jackson didn’t.”

Another penny dropped.“So the rescue animals. The soup kitchen. All the people you help. Me. It’s redemption.”

“Yeah.” His gaze dropped to where our hands were clasped and he ran his thumb over my knuckles. Soothing himself, or me. I couldn’t tell. “Does it upset you?”

“No.” That was my instant, reflexive answer, with no hesitation.

Harle blew out a breath, maybe of relief.

“Does it help? All the helping?”

“Yeah. It gives me purpose. And shape to my days.” A ghost of a smile touched his lips. “I think Jackson would like it. He was a good guy.”

I lifted his hand to my lips and kissed his knuckles. “You are a very good man, Harle Robson.”

He didn’t say anything, but the darkness in his eyes eased. I could feel the tension between us settle into something quieter, something almost comforting. Slowly, I rested my head back on his shoulder, staring into the flickering flames of the fire pit. We sat like that for what felt like forever, with just the crackle of burning wood, the cool night air, and the warmth of his arm around me.

My mind wandered to my own carefully locked doors, the ones I’d kept shut for so long. Harle had just handed me his key, trusted me with his darkest moments. Maybe... maybe it was time to trust him with mine. The thought made my heart race, my breathing shallow.

I wasn’t sure where the words came from, but before I could stop myself, I heard my own voice, low and a little shaky.

“I was married. Sort of.”

HARLE

Cassidy’s voice echoed softly, barely cutting through the rhythmic crackling of the fire. The weight of everything I’d just shared about Jackson still sat heavy in my chest. It was stuff I hadn’t talked about with anyone in years. It felt raw, vulnerable, almost like being stripped of armor I didn’t even realize I still wore.

---