Page 55 of The Love You Fight For
Tiff shakes her head and wipes away a few stray tears.
“I don’t believe that, Chris. After everything that family has done? You want to sit here and expect me to believe that that woman is innocent? That she hasn’t had some hand or influence or knowledge of all of his corruption? I don’t buy it. Harpers are not good people, Chris, and you’re too naïve to see that it applies to her too. She is a Harper, and Harpers are poison.”
“You’re wrong, Tiff,” I say, and she scoffs.
“I’m not. You just can’t see past her pretty face. It’s going to be Sable all over again.”
I rear back like she’s slapped me. In a way, I guess she did.
“Low blow.” I shake my head. “You’re angry. You’ve held a grudge. I get it. You have every right to be angry. Hell, we all do, but you’re taking it out on the wrong person. That ax you’re grindin’ isn’t meant for Sam. Remember that.”
In the quiet, my sister and I look at one another. She’s stopped crying her angry tears, but she’s still mad. She won’t back down. Before I open my mouth to say something else, I hear the faint sound of the sliding glass door in the kitchen. My eyes go wide, and I whip around just in time to see Sam’s retreating back to the yard. She’s halfway to the picnic table now, but her empty plate is sitting on the kitchen table, which means she probably heard us arguing.
“Fuck,” I mumble, tipping my head to the ceiling.
Sam already looks like a beaten-down version of herself right now. I don’t want to consider what this will do.
“The party is almost over,” I say to Tiffany. “Just fucking be civil, okay? And then I’ll get her out of here.”
I head back out the door. When I sit down next to Sam, she’s alone, and I see Macon and Lennon in the bounce house with Evie and a bunch of kids. I consider what to say, how to bring it up, but in the end, Sam does it for me.
“I’m fine. I’ve heard worse,” she says coldly. “And anyway, your sister isn’t wrong. Harpers are poison, and I am very much a Harper.”
“You’re not poison, Sam.”
“Aren’t I, though? I’m not ignorant of the shit my father has done. I know he’s a terrible person. Yet, I’ve actively worked alongside him and others to help elect him to a government office. What does that say about me? Purposely putting power in the hands of someone like him. My father is pure evil, but I’m an accomplice. I’ve got blood on my hands, too.”
I shake my head and take in her profile. She still hasn’t looked at me, but there’s no emotion on her face. Her eyes are cold. Her mouth is flat. I want to shake her.
“You’re not accountable for anything your father has done,” Isay, but she lets out a derisive laugh and turns her ice-blue eyes on me.
“You don’t know me, Casper. You think just because I let you between my legs that means you know anything about me? It doesn’t, itneverdoes, so quit making assumptions. I don’t need you standing up for me. I don’t need you fighting some invisible battle with your family—withanyone—for my honor. I don’t need it, and I don’t want it.”
My eyes narrow on her. A sharp tongue spitting sharper words, but it’s all fucking bullshit.
“You think I don’t know what you’re doing,” I say quietly. “I do. I know it pisses you off, but I’m not falling for the act, princess. You can’t hide from me.”
She shakes her head with a mocking smile, her teeth seeming too white against the blood red of her lips.
“You are delusional,” she says cruelly. “Is this how you are? You get off one time and suddenly you think we have a connection? You think that gives you the right to have opinions about me and my life? Youknownothing. Youarenothing.”
She chuckles and arches a brow, dropping her eyes down my body as if seeing me in a whole new way.
“No wonder Sarah turned down your proposal,” she taunts. “You probably dreamed up the whole relationship in your head.”
I clench my jaw, my nostrils flaring at the insult, but I don’t argue with her. Instead, I reach my hand up and slide it to the back of her neck. She doesn’t flinch or push me away, but her blue eyes stay frigid. Her mask never slips.
I run my thumb over her jaw and press my fingers into the soft flesh of her neck. It’s becoming one of my favorite things to do, hold her like this. I can feel her pulse thrumming, reminding me that she’s human. She’s real, with warm blood and a breakable heart, just like the rest of us.
“You’re not fooling anyone.” I can tell by the way the muscle in her cheek jumps that it’s the worst possible thing to say.
“What you think doesn’t matter,” she says.
She wraps her hand around my wrist and pulls it away, dropping it back into my lap. Then she stands and leaves.
Minutes later, Lennon and Macon return to the table.
“Where’s Sam?” Lennon’s smile falls from her face.
