Page 60 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
Does this asshole know?
My voice comes out flat. “Yeah.”
“She’s great, right? Really good for Cole. He’s been different since they started seeing each other—happier, more relaxed. It’s about time he found someone who gets him.”
Sirus keeps talking about how much he likes Harper, how she fits in with our group, how Cole lights up whenever her name comes up. Each word is like salt in a wound.
My grip tightens on my beer until my knuckles ache.
I can’t sit here another second. Can’t watch her be everything I want with someone who isn’t me. Can’t pretend this doesn’t feel like my heart being ripped out through my throat.
I push back my chair, the legs scraping against the floor loud enough to draw a few glances.
“Need some air,” I mutter to no one in particular, and stride toward the door.
Every step feels like I’m walking out of my own skin.
Outside, the October air is sharp and cold, but it doesn’t cool the fire in my chest. I lean against the brick wall, trying to breathe normally, trying to remember how to be a human being instead of a walking nerve ending.
I glance back through the restaurant window—and freeze.
Harper’s looking right at me.
No smile. No wave. Just... watching. There’s something in her expression I can’t read, something that lands somewhere between apology and challenge.
For a moment, we just stare at each other through the glass. Her at the table with Cole’s arm around her shoulders, me standing alone on the sidewalk like the ghost of her bad decisions.
I don’t know which would hurt more—if that look is her saying sorry or if it’s her daring me to do something about this.
I turn away before I can find out, shoving my hands in my pockets and heading down the street without looking back.
Livid doesn’t even begin to cover what I’m feeling. This is something deeper, uglier—the kind of rage that comes fromwanting something you can’t have and knowing it’s your own damn fault you can’t have it.
I should be happy for Cole. He’s a good guy, probably the best guy I’ve ever known. If Harper had to choose someone, at least she chose someone who’ll treat her right.
But as I walk through the cold night air, all I can think about is how she looked at him, how her hand rested on his arm, how easily she fit into his world.
How she used to look at me like that, before I reminded her what kind of man I really am.
27
The Chase
Harper
I’vebeensittingatthe table with Cole for barely two minutes, pretending to study the menu like my heart isn’t racing out of control, but I can still feel the aftermath of Liam’s glare burning through the restaurant. The way he stormed out left a vacuum in the air that I can’t shake.
When Cole leans toward Sirus to discuss something about practice schedules, I slip my purse over my shoulder and push back my chair.
“I left something in the car,” I murmur, forcing what I hope is a casual smile. “Be right back.”
Cole nods without looking up, completely absorbed in his conversation. Maddie gives me a look, but I don’t react. I’m already on my feet, weaving through tables toward the exit.
The air outside is crisp and sharp, streetlamps buzzing overhead like angry insects. I spot Liam’s broad back halfway down the block, his pace fast and purposeful, shoulders rigid with tension.
“Liam!” I call out. No reaction. He keeps walking like he didn’t hear me.
“Wait! Please—stop!” My voice is sharper now, more desperate than I intended, but he doesn’t slow down.
