Harper
Okay. You can do this. I throw my shoulders back and walk on Scott’s arm, exuding confidence. At least, I think I’m exuding confidence. I’ve never been anybody’s fake date before.
“You don’t have to smile like that. Your face will break in half,” he whispers to me, his arm shaking with repressed laughter.
Okay, so, not so confident then. I’m a little embarrassed, but I think my smile’s genuine now. “I don’t want to screw this up for you,” I confess.
“If you do, you can make it up to me by letting me buy you dinner sometime,” he murmurs back.
My spirits perk up at that possibility. I mean, the chemistry between us is undeniable. “How about, if I screw up, I buy you dinner, and if I knock it out of the park, you can buy me dinner?”
Scott engulfs my hand with his warm, rough palm. “Works for me.”
When we enter the church, a gray-haired woman in a floral dress spots us and rushes over. “Scott! Thank heavens. I was almost afraid you’d miss the wedding!”
“Mom, I’m still fifteen minutes early,” he replies with a chuckle.
“Yes, well, you’re just lucky the family pictures are after the service, young man,” she says, shaking her finger at him. Then she spots me. “Oh my, is this her?”
He lets go of my hand to slide his arm around my waist, tucking me into his side. “This is her.”
“Oh, my dear, you are lovely.” His mother takes my hands in hers. “Scott’s been awfully secretive about you. He says you’ve been dating for months, but does he introduce you to his mother? Hmph. He hasn’t even told us your name!”
“Harper,” I say, giving him the side-eye. It’d have been nice to be prepared for this scenario but I smile anyway. “It’s my fault. I didn’t want to meet the family until we were sure things were serious.” Take that, Scott Bauer!
He has a coughing fit.
“Oh, dear, you’re not getting sick, are you?” His mother puts her hand to his forehead, though it requires the diminutive woman to go all the way up on her tip-toes.
“I’m fine, Mom. Wrong tube, that’s all,” he says.
“Well, take a lozenge just the same. It has Vitamin C.” She fishes in her clutch and pulls out a cough drop.
He takes it and starts to put it in his pocket, but she clucks her tongue at him. “It’s not going to do a lot of good in there.”
“Here,” I chime in, taking the lozenge from him. “Let me help.” I unwrap it and pop it between his surprised lips.
His mother beams. “What a sweet girl you are. Please, call me Marjory.”
“Marjory, it’s such a pleasure to meet you,” I respond. “Seeing what a nice person you are now, I wish I’d asked him to introduce us sooner!”
She blushes. “You’re such a dear. All right, let’s get ourselves seated.”
One of the two ushers shows us to a pew on the bride’s side. As we sit down, Scott begins to crunch down on the lozenge.
His mother rolls her eyes. “Scott, dearest, what good is it going to do if you don’t suck on it?” She dives into her purse again.
“Yes, honey, what good is it going to do if you don’t suck on it?” I ask innocently.
He chokes for real this time.
The man next to Marjory, who I assume is Scott’s father, reaches over and pounds him on the back. “Swallow, then breathe, son.”
Scott’s eyes are streaming, but he manages a nod.
Marjory comes up with another lozenge. “Here you are, dearest. This time, suck on it. It doesn’t work unless you suck on it until it’s done.”
A thousand dirty thoughts cross my mind, and I’m sure all of them are reflecting in my eyes as Scott takes the new lozenge. He ends his last cough on a gulp, then pops the lozenge in his mouth.
“Remember,” I tease in his ear. “You have to suck on it until it’s ‘done.’”
“I am so getting you back for this,” he murmurs, the lozenge clicking against his teeth.
“I’m looking forward to it.” I grin.
The music starts, and we put our friendly war aside. For now.
I expected the ceremony would be beautiful. I didn’t expect to get teary-eyed at the I do’s, but hell, I’m an artist. Sometimes things just affect me.
“Oh, my dear, here you go,” Marjory says between her own sobs, handing me a tissue.
I dab my eyes. Scott squeezes my hand, giving me the most tender look. At least he doesn’t think I’m hamming it up. I like that he knows I’m being sincere.
After the bride and groom kiss and make their way down the aisle, we all start filtering out, passing through the receiving line. I get to Scott’s cousin Janet, the bride, and she stops me, gripping my hand. “You’re Scott’s girlfriend, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I reply, nervously watching the guests build up behind me. “I’m Harper.”
“I’m Janet. Well, you probably know that already. I love your dress,” she says, looking me up and down. “You are so pretty!”
“Not as pretty as you. You look amazing,” I gush back. A bride should always be the prettiest one around on her wedding day.
She smiles, making her look positively radiant. “It took hours. But I think I turned out all right. You’ve been dating Scott for a few months, right?”
The line has become a traffic jam behind me. “Yeah, a few months. Um… shouldn’t you be greeting the other guests? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“Pfft. They can wait. It’s my wedding day.” She winks at me. “Scott never told me what you do. Are you a student? You look awfully young. Scott is thirty-one, you know?”
“Uh, I’m older than I look. Twenty-five,” I reply. “I have a Master’s degree and everything. I’m an artist. Mostly, I work in oil paint.”
Janet squeals. “That is so cool!”
“Janet,” Scott interjects. “You really do have to greet the other guests before they start to mutiny.”
She huffs at him but finally lets go of my hand. “We’ll talk later,” she promises me.
“Sure, sounds great.” I let Scott hustle me along through the rest of the line and out to his pick-up.
“My family really likes you.” He smiles at me.
“Yeah, thanks for the heads up,” I snort.
He blushes. “Sorry. I forgot to tell you.”
“Big thing to miss.” I give him an evil smile. “Did you suck on it until it was ‘done’?”
“Oh, baby,” he purrs back as he starts the truck. “I’m just getting started.” He winks at me, and my stomach tightens into a ball of fire.
Oh my.
* * *
Scott
I’ve never been as bold in my life as I am with Harper. That lozenge banter was something I don’t know whether to thank or curse my mother for because, not only am I thinking about things I could be sucking on instead of a lozenge, but I’m thinking about things Harper could be sucking on as well. Fuck, there is nothing I’d like better than tangling my hand in that ocean of rose gold waves while she bobs up and down on my dick.
“Problem again?” Harper asks innocently as we pull into the parking lot for the Wexford at Emerald Greens Golf Course.
I look down at the bulge in my pants and shrug, trying to be nonchalant. “Guess so.”
“I guess I’m leaving you in the truck then,” she teases, starting to open her door.
I reach across her to close it. The scent of lilacs tickles my nose and does not help my situation one bit. “You really want to go in there without me? My family will be all over you.”
Harper taps her chin as though she’s considering it.
“Please,” I beg. “Don’t leave me here like this.”
“I won’t. I was just kidding,” she replies. She looks down at my bulge again.
“Harper, that’s not helping.” I sigh.
“Sorry.” She looks out the window as the other guests get out of their cars and head into the venue. “We can’t stay out here forever. Can’t you think of granny panties or something?”
“Even if you were wearing granny panties, I’d still want you,” I murmur, knowing I’m being too forward but not able to stop myself.
She smiles at me, which only makes the situation worse. Then she starts fumbling in her purse.
“Please don’t be going for a lozenge,” I groan.
“I’m not.” Instead, Harper pulls out a sealed packet of tissues.
I raise an eyebrow. “What’s that for? Are you afraid the reception’s going to get to you too?”
“It probably will,” she replies. “But that’s not what I’m pulling them out for.” She peels open the packet and pulls out three tissues.
“What are you…?” I ask, then trail off. “Harper, if you’re thinking of helping me out, you have to know, you really don’t have to do that.”
She flashes me a coy smile. “I know I don’t have to, and I don’t want you to think I’m some sort of a slut who usually does shit like this on the first date. But you and I have a connection, don’t we?” She sets the tissues aside.
I nod, unable to speak at the moment as her tongue darts out and wets her bottom lip.
“Well, then, Scott, if you’re willing, I’m happy to help you out.”
“Okay…” I manage to verbalize. My eyes just about bugging out of my head as Harper reaches over and unzips my pants.
“Damn, this problem is bigger than I thought,” she mumbles, fishing my dick out of my boxers.
I can’t breathe. “Shit!”
Harper grips my cock and starts stroking it from base to tip. At first, I manage to take a look around the parking lot, noting we’re secluded, but then, I can’t concentrate on anything else at all. This girl is amazing, and I really want to kiss her while she strokes my cock, but I also don’t want to interfere.
“Oh… God… Harper…” I moan, my head arching back against the headrest.
“Come on, baby. Give it to me,” she murmurs, sliding her hand faster and harder up and down my shaft.
I grab the tissue from the console just in time to keep my pants and her dress from getting cum-stained. “Fuuuuuck.”
She releases my dick. “There. Problem solved.”
I’m still panting and seeing sparks at the edge of my vision. “Holy fuck.”
“Ready to go in now?” she asks.
I swallow hard. “Just give me a minute. Some sexy lady just had her hand on my dick.”
“Wonder who that could have been?” She grins.
Once I’m calm and have put myself back together, we’re able to trickle in with the last of the guests into the Wexford.
“There you are!” Janet pounces on us the minute we’re inside. “I’ve been wanting to do the bouquet toss.”
“Before dinner?” I ask, confused.
“The caterer went to the wrong venue, so we’re making it up as we go until they get here,” Janet confides.
“Oh. Sorry to hear that,” I reply.
Janet shrugs. “Weddings, am I right?” She waves Harper over to the gaggle of other women waiting for the bouquet toss. “One… two…” she calls with her back turned.
I know it’s a setup the second Janet yells, “THREE!” and the women all part to the sides. Except a very confused Harper who is left holding the bouquet.
“Oh, how wonderful!” Janet squeals as though this is a surprise. “Now, if only Scott could catch the garter.”
I sigh inwardly as Conner, Janet’s husband, winks at me. I’m definitely going to be catching the garter, whether I want to or not. But then, everyone thinks Harper and I have been dating for a few months. They think this is a cute way to get us ‘thinking about the future.’
Before I know it, garter banded around my arm, I’m dancing with Harper, the bouquet clutched between our joined hands.
“I thought the bride and groom were supposed to have the first dance,” Harper whispers to me as “Love Me Tender” plays over the DJ’s loudspeakers.
“Janet is nothing if not unconventional and a hopeless romantic,” I reply. Tired of the hard stems between our hands, I twirl us past a nearby table and drop the bouquet onto it. “For that matter, they may have danced before we even came inside.”
“That’s true.” She gives me a nefarious grin. Then, to my surprise, Harper lays her head on my shoulder. “Thanks for putting the flowers down. That thing was getting uncomfortable.”
“I’d hate for you to be uncomfortable.” I smile down at her. “Though, I do have a question.”
She looks up. “What question?”
“How would you feel about staying at my place tonight?” I ask. Or rather blurt. I grimace. Smooth, Scott. Real smooth.
Harper regards me with an unreadable expression on her face. Then she grins. “Well, I don’t think either of us have sucked on it until it’s ‘done’ yet.”
I bark out a laugh. “Is that a yes?”
She goes up on her toes and presses those perfect pink lips against mine. I gasp and press her to open, which she does. When we finally come up for air, she murmurs, “What do you think?”
HarperOh, my God! I can’t believe I just said that! I stare into the mirror in the bathroom, shocked by my own boldness.Harper Ward would never have agreed to that proposition. And with such a dirty remark!But then, maybe ArtIsMyLife33 would?Somebody agreed to go home with Scott and suck his dick. Or I at least implied I was going to.The chicken in me thinks of backing out. Scott would be polite about it, I know. The part of me who hasn’t been with a man in the six months since I broke up with that controlling asshole Jack? That part wants to ride that big cock I saw in the truck, right into the sunset.I lock eyes with myself. “Who are you?” I murmur.The door slams open, and two drunk, giggling guests come into the restroom. “Oh, my God, did you see Scott? He is still so dreamy.”“Too bad he’s taken,” the other says.Neither of them notice me, and I decide to keep it that way by slipping into a bathroom stall.“Jessie says he is so good in bed. She says she’s never had anything
Harper“You slept with him?!” McKenzy’s jaw goes slack. It’s the next morning, and we’ve finally gotten a chance to talk. When I got home the night before, I took a shower and crashed. Hard.“Announce it to the whole apartment complex, why don’t you?” I hiss. “And yes. I slept with him. It was amazing.”“Amazing? It says on the website you don’t have to do the whole escort thing!” she says. “Did we forget the website?”I snort. “I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I wanted to. We really hit it off.”“I’ll say. You slept with him on the first date. And it wasn’t even a proper date!” She all but wails.“Dramatic much? You’ve done it before,” I remind her.“Yeah, but you’re not me.” McKenzy paces around me, looking me up and down. She pinches my arm.“Hey!” I gripe.She nods. “Okay, so I’m not dreaming.”“You’re supposed to pinch yourself!” I pinch her back.“Ouch! Fine, fine, okay. We can be super sluts together then. But honestly, Harper, you need to stop copying me. I’m sure yo
DamienWhat an unexpected pleasure. I watch Harper’s cheeks flush as our shoulders touch in the limo. Honestly, I should be sitting further away from her. There’s plenty of seating in the limo’s expansive back section after all. But since I first laid eyes on her, I’ve been utterly captivated.Today, I just wanted someone who checked all the right boxes for the dress. Tonight, I’m realizing I might have found someone who checks all the right boxes for me.“Have you been to an art gallery opening before?” I ask conversationally, my hand still boldly laid over hers. I’m not a man who lets what he wants get away.She swallows, and it draws my attention to the elegant lines of her neck. “No, Damien. I haven’t.”“I think you’ll find it rather entertaining,” I continue. “Especially given your art background. Or am I making too many assumptions about your username? Are you an art history major?”Harper pauses, then admits, “I’m an artist. Mostly a painter.”Intriguing. “Really? Then again, I
HarperThe rest of the evening is a blur. Michael has to circulate, of course, but he comes back to Damien and me frequently to check in. He asks where I’m showing my work. I blush and say, “The Witch’s Brew coffee shop on Lake Street in Minneapolis.”Michael grins at me. “A perfect place to start.”“You’ll have to give some pieces to a proper gallery now, though. People will be wondering where to find your work,” Damien whispers in my ear.“Because you announced it in front of the press!” I reply.Damien gives me an innocent look. “Did I do that?”I squeeze his arm in gratitude, and he laughs.It’s late by the time we leave Michael, Julian and the rest of Damien’s acquaintances at the gallery. I can’t help but note that Damien didn’t call any of them his friends.“Do your friends not attend gallery openings?” I ask.Damien winces at me. “Caught that, did you? I don’t have a lot of friends, Harper. A man like me makes a lot of enemies. I do have one good friend, Laurence Killian, but
HarperI cry out, pleasure radiating through my body as Damien reaches around and thumbs my clit in time with his hard, deep thrusts.“How does it feel, little red bird?” he asks as he makes me come again.“S-So good.” My teeth chatter, and my knees are weak.He forces a third orgasm out of my body. Then a fourth. And still he doesn’t cum.“Damien,” I beg. “Please.” Damien must be close. I know he has to be close. “Please, Damien, cum inside me!”“Mmm, my good girl.” He slaps my ass, and my whole body tenses. I come again, and this time, as my body spasms around him, he finally grunts a few times and joins me.He groans, and his whole body shudders, but he’s still holding me up when my knees give out and I would have slid down the glass. He keeps pumping in and out of me until both our tremors cease.I can’t believe I just fucked a billionaire! I look back over my shoulder, and Damien is giving me a dirty look, as though he can read my mind.“Do you always last that long?” I ask him.
HarperOn Thursday, I get another ding on my phone from At a Loose End. I sigh. If it weren’t for the fact I haven’t been paid for my date with Damien yet, I’d have taken down my profile by now. I need that payment to process and hit my bank account!I look at my screen. Tomás. He’s offering less than anyone else I’ve dated for me to go with him to a quinceañera on Saturday. I know I should decline, but a message pings right away, and I feel compelled to read what he has to say.EspanolEsVida1: I know I haven’t offered a lot, but please hear me out @ArtIsMyLife33. My ex-wife is going to be at my niece’s quinceañera this Saturday, and she’s bringing a date. I absolutely, positively have to bring a younger, hotter date. I know that sounds shallow, but this woman destroyed my life. She destroyed me. She cheated, and my niece still wants her at her quinceañera. I’m desperate. Help!Thinking back on what Rafe did to me, I am galvanized into action.ArtIsMyLife33: Please, call me Harper. An
HarperIt feels just like old times. Except, instead of sitting in a beat-up old Corolla, we’re peeling through the city streets in a brand new red Ferrari.Rafe guides my hand expertly on the stick shift, his hand warm on mine, his strong fingers fitting right where they used to.“How’ve you been, Harper?” he asks. “How’s the painting going?”“I just actually had a big break,” I reply. ‘So, that’s been nice. I might be getting busy pretty soon.”“But not too busy to see me.” He gives me puppy-dog eyes.“No,” I reply softly. “Not too busy to see you.”He grins as we pull into the parking lot behind a sports bar. It looks like a bit of a dive, but then, he used to like those. Especially when people started to recognize him from college football. These types of places, nobody bothered him.Rafe takes off his seatbelt, then leans over to undo mine, following it all the way to the other side of my body. I can feel his breath on my cheek. He smells the same, like musk and the same cologne
HarperScott Bauer: Hey, Harper. What are you doing this weekend?I roll over and look at my phone. My adrenaline spikes with both excitement and trepidation. It’s Scott!We haven’t corresponded all week, and this is the first time I’m realizing it. I am such a bad girlfriend.Potential girlfriend.Hey, wait, why hasn’t he texted me before now?I might be a little indignant, actually.Harper Ward: Hey, stranger. How’ve you been?Scott Bauer: Missing you. *cheese emoji*I laugh.Harper Ward: LOL, liar. You been busy?Scott Bauer: *pouty face emoji* I really have missed you. But yeah, busy. Some asshole crop duster was a little off on his aim and sprayed pesticides on a small area of the farm.I wince, and text back quickly.Harper Ward: Oh, Scott, I’m so sorry. That sucks big time.Scott Bauer: Yeah, well, I had to rip out that crop. It’s all fix
*Rafe*Harper is here. In my city. In her own apartment. In my arms.I don’t think it’s fully hit me yet. The past few weeks have been a blur–a new team, new city, new life–but now, finally, it feels like I can breathe again. She’s actually here, curled up against my chest like she belongs there, like she’s always belonged there. And she always has. Her hair’s a little messy from where she fell asleep on me earlier after our first round of sex, strands sticking up in every direction, and I swear I’ve never seen anything more perfect. She’s got on one of my old sweatshirts, her bare legs tucked under her, scrolling through some takeout menu like it’s the most important decision of her life.“I’m getting you the spicy basil chicken,” she announces without even looking up.I raise a brow. “Not even gonna let me pick?”“Nope.” She grins, so bright and cheeky it should come with a warning label. “I know you too well.”She’s right. She does. And I love her for it.The food arrives faster t
*Harper*Damien’s jet is my new favorite place in the world. I mean, I love my apartment, I love everywhere I go with my guys, and I even love my tiny little Prius back home. But this is luxury wrapped in silk, dipped in champagne, and handed to me on a silver platter.Scott is playing with the massage chair, testing every setting like a kid on Christmas morning. Tomas, ever composed, reading something on his tablet, pretending like he’s not secretly enjoying the five-star treatment. And Damien? Damien is lounging like a king, sipping whiskey in a glass that was probably hand-blown in some exclusive European workshop.“I could get used to this,” I say with a sigh, stretching my legs on the reclining seat.“You should get used to it,” Damien says, swirling his drink. “This is your life now.”I snort. “Oh, is it? Just like that?”“Just like that.” He smirks. “I refuse to let my favorite people travel like peasants.”Scott groans, adjusting his chair. “Damien, I don’t know how to tell y
*Harper*My phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I nearly knock over a half-empty mug of coffee trying to grab it.Damien: Pack your bags, little red bird. My jet leaves at 10:00 A.M. on Friday.I grin, biting my lip, and another message pops in before I can reply.Damien: And bring the other two along. I suppose they can sit with the peasants in the back.Scott: I’m taller than you.Tomas: And I’m more charming.Damien: But I’m richer.I can’t stop laughing as the group chat explodes with the kind of snarky chaos that has somehow become my new normal.Scott: Don’t care. I’m bringing snacks.Tomas: Do not let Scott choose the snacks. I beg you.Damien: Fine. I’ll stock the jet myself. Only the finest artisanal chips and caviar-flavored popcorn.Rafe: Wait. What’s happening?I snort. Rafe’s been so laser-focused on training camp he’s missed half the group texts lately.Me: We’re all coming to your first home game, baby.Rafe: What? How? Who’s “we all”?Damien: Me, little red bird, her f
*Harper*The painting is massive, much bigger than anything I’ve ever sent to a gallery before. It’s propped against the wall, and every time I glance at it, my heart does a weird little flutter. This is the piece I’m sending to The Whitney Gallery. If I overthink it, I’ll keep making changes, trying to make it perfect. But art isn’t about perfection, right? I don’t know if it’s good enough. I don’t know if I’m good enough. But I know I’ve poured every piece of me into it… my chaos, my love, my fear, my hope. It’s all there, dripping down the canvas in colors that feel like my soul spread wide open.What I do know for sure is that I can’t shove something this big into the back of an Uber. And the car McKenzy and I share is barely bigger than a shoe. So, naturally, I call Scott, the only person I know with a pickup truck.“Hey, babe.” He answers on the second ring, his voice warm and relaxed. “What’s up?”“I need a favor.”“Name it.”“Can you bring your truck over and help me take my
*Harper*The afternoon sun pours through the studio windows, spilling delicate golden light across the floor. My latest painting is sitting on the easel, half-finished, all the colors still swirling together, but I’m not satisfied with the result. I dip my brush into my favorite cobalt blue, dragging it over the canvas, blending it into the burnt orange sunset I’m trying to capture.It’s almost there. Almost perfect.I’ve been at this for hours. My back aches, my fingers are speckled with dried paint, and I’ve barely moved since lunchtime. I’m so focused until McKenzy texts me a meme about a disastrous DIY project. At that I laugh, stretching out my stiff shoulders before turning back to the painting.That’s when my phone rings.I consider ignoring it, until I see Tomas’s name flashing across the screen.I bite my lip, warmth spreading through my chest as I answer. “Hola, Profe.”“Hola, preciosa,” Tomas’s smooth, accented voice flows through the line like a slow dance, making my pul
*Harper*I wake up to the sound of Rafe singing very off-key to some ‘90s alt-rock song in the kitchen. It takes me a second to remember where I am, why my legs are tangled in a sheet that smells like him, and why my heart already aches before my feet even hit the floor.Today’s the day.I sit up, blinking at the sunlight pouring in through the half-open blinds. Rafe’s room is packed up, a cardboard box labeled TROPHIES + RANDOM SHIT sits by the door, and his dresser drawers hang open, mostly empty. It feels wrong, like the room itself is bracing for the goodbye we’re both pretending isn’t coming.I pull on one of his T-shirts, feeling vulnerable and pathetic, and follow the smell of coffee into the kitchen. Rafe is standing at the stove, shirtless, flipping pancakes like a domestic god who doesn’t know his own biceps should be illegal.“Morning, sleepyhead.” He grins, flashing me that too-charming smile that got me into this mess in the first place.“You’re making pancakes?” I ask,
*Harper*Three months. That’s how long it’s been since my life became a balancing act between love, ambition, and enough sexual pleasure to power a reality show. I’m basically the poster child for chaos, except now it comes with a wardrobe upgrade and a much better skincare routine. Unfortunately, it hasn’t come with a bigger closet.These days, I basically have to shove myself into my closet head on just to squeeze through the tight space between the rows. With all the designer dresses Damien’s sent me, I’m having a hard time finding space. McKenzy says I should just get rid of all my old clothes, but it’s not like I’m going to lounge around in our apartment in Dolce and Gabana.“Rich people problems,” she always says with a sigh whenever I complain about the closet space.Of course, I’m still far from rich. But I’m definitely in a better place than I was when this all began. My paintings have sold so well, I’ve been able to put aside rent money for the rest of the year. It’s such
Two weeks later…Harper“WHOOOOOO! GO RAFE, GO!” I scream from the private suite where we are watching Rafe’s game.“Maybe we’re supposed to call him Bullet?” Tomás asks, eating off a plate of catered food next to me.“I figure if you’re sleeping with the man, you get to call him whatever you want,” Damien says dryly. He sips something expensive—scotch, I’m assuming—from a tumbler, but loses all sophistication when Rafe gets sacked. “Roughing the passer!”“They can’t flag the play every time Rafe gets sacked. This isn’t touch football,” Scott chuckles. He’s munching popcorn, more a fan of that snack than the buffet fare.Damien purses his lips. “I wonder how much it would cost…”I reach past Tomás to slap his shoulder. “Don’t even think about it.”
HarperAfter my MRI, the doctors finally let me go see Rafe. I shuffle down to his room in hospital socks and a gown. Tomás has gone to pick up some pizza for us all. Damien is on his phone, leaning on the technicians and whoever else is involved to get my MRI reviewed. Scott stepped out to call someone to check on his animals since he’s been gone so long.I knock lightly on the door to Rafe’s room. When I hear Jen, Rafe’s mother, call “Come in!” I push open the door and go inside.Jen is sitting next to the bed, holding Rafe’s hand. His father, Skip, is leaning against the windowsill with his arms folded. When they look up, neither of them are particularly happy to see me.“Harper,” Jen says in a clipped tone.“Mrs. Maloney,” I reply respectfully. “Mr. Maloney.”Skip eyes me with deep-seated anger.“You could have ended his football career, you know?