Page 107 of Fool Me

“Marilyn? What’s going on?”

Her voice crackles through the line—frantic, garbled—and I catch maybe every third word.

“Slow down,” I say. “I’m outside now. Just—just tell me what happened.”

I turn away from the bar, pacing a few more steps so I can talk her down and get back inside to Harlowe. I know we have time, but I’m out of patience.

CHAPTER

THIRTY-EIGHT

HARLOWE

It’s been five minutes.

Then ten.

I’m still sitting at the bar like some wide-eyed idiot, playing with my empty shot glass—the same one from the tequila I ordered for courage when I walked in. I try to pretend like I’m not counting the seconds.

I shouldn’t be this worked up. I shouldn’t feel like I’m buzzing under my skin, like the whole night has been building to something that’s now . . . stalling. But I do.

I feel like I’ve been waiting on Atlas for hours—every minute since I realized I love him stretching and then doubling after I saw him with Canyon. Now I’m left here waiting, with my heart in my throat and a dozen thoughts racing through my head.

Mostly that I need to talk to him about what I saw. Then I need to tell him how I feel.

But him and Canyon—it threw me for a loop.

For a second, it looked like they were hugging, like maybe everything that happened between them was finally, inexplicably, forgiven. But I know in my head and heart that can’t be right. I don’t believe anything he could have said would make Atlas just forgive him.

But I can’t help shake the feeling that something is wrong, even if I don’t know what it is.

I need to hear from him what happened and to tell him I saw them, to make sure we’re still standing in the same place, on the same page, before I say the other thing that’s been sitting heavy on my heart all day.

Because I love him. I do.

That hasn’t changed.

Whether what I saw was a reconciliation, just a moment of compassion, or something else entirely, I trust him. And I want him to know that. I want to say it before the words get stuck again. Before life decides to throw something else in the way.

I glance toward the door again.

Still no Atlas.

I decide if he doesn’t come back in a few minutes, I’m going after him. I don’t want to waste anymore time pretending I don’t feel this way. Because I’m so completely in love with him it makes my chest ache. And if I don’t say it soon, I think it might crack me open from the inside out.

Pushing the shot glass away, I stand, ready to find him. It hasn’t even been a minute but I don’t care.

I turn to find the last person I want to see coming through the door, nodding over his shoulder at someone outside.

Canyon.

Why is he everywhere lately? He looks up and sees me, his lips pressing into a thin line. I expect him to go the other way, find someone else to bug, but he doesn’t, he heads right toward me.

“Hey, I’m glad I found you,” he rushes out.

I’m immediately on high alert—all of my senses screaming to get away. I turn to do just that when his hand clamps down on my wrist.

“Don’t. You’re going to want to hear what I have to say.”

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