Page 115 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
Me:I'm at Maddie's. I'm safe. I just need some space.
Cole:How much space?
Me:I don't know.
Cole:Harper please don't do this.
Me:I'm not doing anything. I just need time.
Cole:I love you.
Me:I love you too.
I set my phone face down on the coffee table and bury my face in my hands. Maddie rubs my back while Sirus makes tea nobody will drink.
"What am I supposed to do?" I ask no one in particular.
"Whatever feels right," Maddie says.
But nothing feels right. Not being at Cole's place without him. Not being here hiding from the mess I helped create. Not any of this.
I curl up on Maddie's couch and close my eyes, but sleep doesn't come. All I can see is Cole's face when he looked at me in that bathroom, the hurt and anger and betrayal all mixed together.
And underneath it all, Liam's voice:It's only a matter of time before you see his true colors.
What did he mean? What does he know that I don't?
The questions circle in my mind until dawn breaks through the windows, and I'm still awake, still confused, still wondering how everything got so broken so fast.
44
Unraveling
Cole
Thehouseistooquiet.
Harper’s not here. She’s at Maddie’s because she needsspace.
Space.
I check the bedroom first—her side of the closet is thinner, clothes missing from hangers. The bathroom—her shampoo and conditioner are gone from the shower, toothbrush missing from the holder. My chest tightens. The desk in the corner where she usually studies—her laptop gone, her textbooks, the stack of note cards she was using to prep for finals.
She didn't just leave for the night. She packed like she's not coming back.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, pulling out my phone to read her last text again.
Harper:I love you too.
Does she? Because running away when I need her doesn't feel like love. It feels like abandonment. Like I'm not worth fighting for.
My hands are shaking. The adrenaline from the fight is wearing off, leaving behind this hollow ache that spreads through my entire body. My knuckles are split and swollen. My eye is throbbing. But none of that compares to the pain in my chest.
Rex appears in the doorway, whining softly. He can sense something is wrong. He always can.
"She's coming back," I tell him, but my voice doesn't sound convincing.
He pads over and puts his head on my knee, looking up at me with those big, soulful eyes. I scratch behind his ears, but it doesn't soothe me the way it usually does.
