Page 7 of Wilde Secrets

“Uh, miss?” A slightly bewildered young woman asked.

“Oh, sorry. I thought you were someone else.”

“Oh. Well, this is your courtesy call to say your rental has been dropped off and is ready for when you would like to leave.”

She blinked. That was quick. “Thank you.”

She hung up and flopped back onto the bed.

What a nightmare.

She reached for her phone and, ignoring the thousands of notifications that had popped up on her screen, she dialed her sister’s number.

King answered. “Miss Harper.”

So, she was back to being Miss Harper. “Why isn’t Isla answering her phone?”

“You heard from your father?”

“Yes. Why isn’t Isla answering her phone?” She insisted.

“Harper, she’s upset. She’s not talking to anyone.” He sounded unusually exhausted.

She couldn’t remember him ever sounding this dejected. She paused before asking her next question. “Not even me?”

“Not even you.”

It’s then that the true impact of what she had done hit her. Until now, she figured everything would be okay if she could just talk to her sister. They’d figure it out together. The two of them against the world, or so it had seemed until now.

But you've ruined all that, haven't you?

“I see,” she said, her voice small.

“Look, Harper. Give her a few days. I’m sure she’ll come around. Go see West. He’ll give you a place to stay and won’t tell anyone you’re there. You won’t have to worry about the press and can have somewhere to work while we wait for this to blow over.”

Harper nodded. Since when did her sister’s bodyguard know her sister better than she did?

Since you ruined her life.

“I suppose I don’t have much choice,” she said.

The silence that greeted her down the line said everything.

“Tell her I love her and I’m sorry. I’ll do my best to make it up to her. I promise,” she said, a tone of steely determination in her voice.

Three weeks was not a lot of time, but she was going to have to make it work if she ever wanted to repair the damage she’d done.

ChapterFour

Harper

It felt like hours since she’d left Portland in the little rental Toyota. At first, the day was pleasantly warm and sunny. The miles passed with gradually less and less traffic. Harper turned on the radio but quickly switched it off when one of her songs—Isla’s songs—had played, ramming home just how far away she was from her sister.

When she’d left Portland, Harper hadn’t hesitated. King’s words stayed with her. Just one day at a time. She’d deleted every social media app from her phone and turned off email notifications when she’d stopped briefly to grab a coffee. The constant buzzing of her phone had put her on edge.

Now the little rectangle sat silently in her handbag, a reminder of the distance between her and Isla that only grew as the miles passed.

The further she drove, the darker the sky became. As evening approached and Harper neared Cape Wilde, the first drops of rain splattered on the windshield.

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