Page 96 of To Bring You Back
“That’s exactly what she was doing when her house lit up.” He switched which arm was behind his head without looking Gannon’s direction. “Every time you try to save Harper, you’re telling Adeline another woman has a hold on you. You’re going to have to choose whose hero you want to be. Let the others fend for themselves.”
“It’s not just about Harper. She could hurt anyone they meet on the street, not to mention the fact that Matt’s risking a lot of bad press—or imprisonment. Or worse.”
“We’ve given him chance after chance. We agreed we might need to replace him.”
“And what? Let him kill himself like Fitz did?”
That drew John’s attention away from the screen. “Matt isn’t Fitz.”
Though the door was open, Gannon twisted the knob one way and the other. Matt and Fitz struggled with different problems, but both were life-threatening.
“Fitz didn’t deserve to be fired,” John said, “but Matt’s only hope of changing is in experiencing consequences for his addiction. And Harper needs to be let go more than anyone.”
“And if something happens?”
“This is a stunt to get your attention. Intervening will reinforce that she gets her way by being reckless. You’ve got to cut her off. Sit this one out.”
“I don’t think I can.”
“She’s a drunk driver. Call the cops. Let them handle it.”
Objections swelled in his chest. Each of these episodes brought her closer to the point of changing. Everything he’d put up with before now would be useless if he missed the moment when she was finally ready.
But a drunk Harper wouldn’t be ready to make any changes or commitments, and he couldn’t knowingly let her endanger the public.
Fine. He’d sit it out. Call the police.
But even once he’d made the call, a sick ache permeated his chest. He lingered at the patio doors in the great room. Once Harper went back to LA, he’d feel a lot less responsible.
Lord, keep her safe. Break through to her. Matt too.
He shifted, and the lighthouse beacon came into view. Only then did he realize something on the lower patio by the cliff had blocked the light a second ago. He leaned his head, trying to discern the shape outlined by the dim lighting out along the wall. Was that a person?
The figure lifted a hand and moved as if to pull long hair over a shoulder. He’d seen Adeline do that exact thing. It had to be her out there, gazing at the lake.
Gannon pushed open the patio door and stepped outside.
26
Lovely. Just how she’d wanted to be discovered. Adeline ran her hand over the small of her back to ensure the hem of her sweatshirt reached the waistband of her sweatpants as Gannon’s footsteps drew nearer. She sat cross-legged on the bench of the lower patio, elbows on the wall, staring at the lighthouse beacon. Her sweats were comfortable and warm enough for the fifty-degree weather that had rolled in with nightfall, but if she’d expected company, she would’ve pulled on jeans and a jacket instead.
Or not come out at all.
Unable to sleep, she’d taken up station here about half an hour ago, figuring that at nearly midnight, no one would notice. She’d wanted to think and pray, just her and God. If she was going to talk with Gannon instead, she ought to tell him what was on her mind.
She didn’t know how to navigate the risks of a relationship.
But how could she cut off the potential between them? The knowledge he was walking up behind her had turned her breath shallow and distracted her so thoroughly, she couldn’t focus on a single point of light. Stars? Lighthouses? What were those?
She forced a deep inhale, the air clean with the first chills of impending autumn, and pivoted, putting one foot on the ground as Gannon descended the two steps that separated this outlook from the rest of the yard.
Lights set under glass among the flagstones glowed like candles across a smile that told her he thought the sweats were cute. “Mind if I join you?”
She motioned to the bench. “Plenty of room.”
Littered with pillows, the bench ran the entire length of the outlook. Gannon didn’t take advantage of the space but sat close enough for the warm sandalwood notes of his cologne to mingle with the crisp air.
He still wore motorcycle pants, but he’d shed the jacket. He leaned back with his elbows on the wall. His face angled toward the sky, expression clouded.
