Chapter 36

Harper

I groan as I jerk the lever, pulling the driver's seat back up into a seated position. I hadn't thought it possible to find a car without electric seats these days. It's kind of ironic that I, of all people, would end up with something so analog.

My eyes sleepily open to see the house in front of me.Yeah, I slept in my car. I snuck out after Poppy drifted off to bed.

I just couldn ' t do it—sleep in that house without Peter. Eventually, I ' ll have to because not even a world-class chiropractor could get the kinks out of my back after sleeping in the car again.

Not that you could call my self-inflicted torture sleep. It was more like slowly suffering, tossing, and turning.

I look down at the seatbelt that held me down in the seat. Why did I wear it when I wasn ' t even driving? Multiple reasons a shrink would love to hear. One, I never get in a car without putting my seatbelt on. Not after Peter died. Two, it forced me to stay in my seat and not crawl into the main bedroom Peter would have slept in had he lived long enough to buy this adorable little house. Three, well, clearly, I ' m fucked up in the head, so why not put on a seatbelt when you're pretending to sleep. Nightmares can be bumpy, after all.

I release the belt, feeling my nail break in the process. Wonderful. Why not add more pain to my body?I quickly suck it into my mouth as if my saliva can cure my wounds.

My phone buzzes again with the tracking alert app. I run a hand through my rat's nest of hair and glance over my shoulder down the long street where a black car slowly turns down. A small smile touches my lips. I knew Julian would come. In a way, running was a test.

How far was Julian willing to go?

If I allowed Julian to love my bestie, then he ' d have to keep fighting until the end of the earth for her.

Running also gave me time, minutes I used as I sat in this car to continue to dig into Julian. It ' s not him who is as interesting as Theo Sterling. Whatever messed-up friends Theo's got are enough to get every international intelligence agency to back off and destroy Andrew and his father. All roads lead back to Theo when it comes to Julian and Poppy's meeting.

Poppy's job? That was Theo, who had HR send the email out to her old job so they could offer it to her.

Poppy's apartment? Theo paid the realtor to show it to her.

Theo-fucking-Sterling. A dark knight or a villain in the shadows? I've yet to decide.

Does it bug me that I haven ' t fully dissected Theo Sterling yet? Of course.

Does that excite me? Too much! It ' s like an itch I keep digging at; even though the skin has broken and I ' m bleeding, I can ' t stop scratching it. I have to get to the center to know exactly who Theo is.

Julian's car rolls to a stop, casting a dark silhouette against the street that feels too quiet, too waiting. From my cramped position in the car, I watch him—sharp, contained, every bit the soldier, even in civilian clothes. He steps out, and it's like watching one of those old war movies where every movement is calculated, and every glance means life or death. His head turns, eyes scanning the surroundings with a precision that sends a familiar thrill down my spine. This isn't just Julian coming to visit; it's Julian on a mission, his body language screaming intent and danger in a way that most would miss. But not me.

I smile because this soldier is here for my friend.

He starts walking towards the house, and I can't help but lean forward, eyes glued to his figure moving with purpose. And as much as he's focused on whatever he thinks he's here to do, I know that the real game is just beginning—with me as the player he hasn't accounted for. I'm always going to be in the shadows, watching out for Poppy. She's the sister I never had, the sister-in-law I might have had but now never will; she's my best friend; in some odd way, she's like my daughter.

I just want to protect her and see her smile. Julian makes her smile. That's why I let him come. Yeah, I said let him. I put a tracker in his phone a few weeks ago. I ' m not sure if Daniel and Theo knew. If they found it, they certainly allowed it to remain. It alerted me to his movements just hours ago; I hacked into the airline and saw his flight here. Surprisingly, he flew commercial. I ' m not sure why, but I ' ll find out.

Make no mistake; I ' m still pissed at Julian. I don ' t fully trust him, which might make the theoretical shrink in my head ask why I ' d allow him to come here to my safe house. By the way, I need to find out how he found it; no doubt his shady brother Theo had a hand in that.

I ' m not letting Julian come here because he loves Poppy. Andrew loved Poppy; he must have. Obsession is only fostered by love. Love comes in many forms; some forms are nourishing; the root of the question is, what is the love nourishing? In Andrew ' s case, it fed something vile. In Julian ' s case, it ' s feeding something protective.

Julian ' s need to protect Poppy is why I didn ' t wake Poppy up in the middle of the night and flee the country. I don ' t trust Julian, but I do trust he will never physically hurt her. Mentally…well, love always hurts in some form. I can't save Poppy from that.

Right as Julian passes my car, I jerk the door open. It ' s comical to watch his reaction; he ' s such a soldier in some ways.So unlike Kent, who is goofy and… don ' t go there, Harper.

" Harper," Julian grunts. The hand that is reaching for his weapon slowly slides back into a normal stance. His other hand barely manages to hold a bag of groceries he's grasping.

" What are you doing in the car?" He bends down, eyes searching for Poppy, no doubt. Disappointment fills his eyes when it ' s only me they find.

I kick open the door and stand. At least I try to stand. Huge mistake. There ' s a pop in my back loud enough to give Julian pause; his brow shoots up, practically reaching his hairline.

" I ' d ask you why you ' re here, but that ' d be stupid," I sigh as I lean nonchalantly against the car, trying to act cool, but in reality, my spine can't stand straight yet. Getting old sucks. " How ' d you find me?"

"Theo," Julian shoots back almost immediately, a flicker of something unreadable passing through his eyes. Closing the gap between us with a few purposeful steps, Julian saddles up beside me; his posture relaxed yet somehow still on alert. He casually hoists the grocery bag, letting it land with a soft thud on the roof of the car.

So he wants to talk. Good. No more secrets. That ' s why he came. I suppose in his eyes, I ' m a priest, and he ' s ready to confess his sins. It ' s as close to a heavenly body as I ' ll ever get.

" How did Theo know?" I question.

" The truth?"

" If you ' re not here to speak the truth, then don ' t bother trying to get past me."

His lip twitches with a smile as he casually crosses one leg over the other, his nonchalance a stark contrast to the bomb he ' s about to drop. "He's tangled up with this group; they call themselves The Obsidian Order or something."

My heart does a weird flip-flop, pausing as if it's considering quitting on me. Catching the look of utter horror crossing my face, Julian can't help but let a hint of concern flicker across his features. "My uncle had the same look of fear." Julian sighs, a shadow of seriousness darkening his tone, "When the head of the CIA is silent about a group, that ' s not a good thing. So, you've heard of them."

" Heard is an understatement," I reply. The question is, did I piss them off? If I did, I ' m dead.

Of course, I know who The Obsidian Order is, and yes, before you roll your eyes, trust me, I ' ve rolled mine enough to cause a migraine. I don ' t know what it is with men who form secret societies. Oh, they couldn't possibly settle for just any old name; that would be far too pedestrian. It has to be shrouded in mystery, dripping with significance, and sound like it's straight out of a blockbuster movie marquee. You don ' t see women naming their book clubs something ridiculous, do you?

The problem is that the Obsidian Order is the real deal. Every big-league hacker has heard of them. Those who look into them disappear. Literally, Poof, they are gone.

" Theo is part of them?"

Julian shrugs. " He says so."

" You seem clueless about them."

"A lot about Theo is a mystery to me now," Julian admits, hooking his thumb into his jeans. Do you think they are the good guys?" he asks, the fear in his voice as noticeable as the rising sun—blinding and unwavering. He's Theo's brother, after all. It's that loyalty that fills him with worry. He's always the protector. Sorry, Julian, but you can't protect Theo from them.

I snort. " You ' re asking me?"

Julian shrugs, "I can't ask my uncle. He won't say a thing about them. Theo's opinion of them is like the second coming of Christ. When you're not making sexual jokes, which, by the way, are not even funny, you seem to have a solid opinion. So, what's your view of them?"

"It'll cost you," I say with a wink.

Julian sighs, his shoulders visibly relaxing, "I can ' t get Kent to back off."

"I didn't say that was the price."

His eyes widen, and there is a glimmer of hope in them: "Is that you agreeing to be with my brother?" His words are laced with anticipation, like a needle threading through the fabric, hoping to make its final stitch.

"Kent's not a topic for today." I stretch, feeling every tense muscle. Hmm, a massage would be divine. Wait, that gives me an idea. "How about a spa vacation for Poppy and me, courtesy of you, once this whole circus wraps up?"

His eyes widen in disbelief, "That's it?"

"Absolutely. I'll send you the deets. You just make sure it happens. And no skimping—we're talking full pamper mode."

"Deal," he smirks.

"The Obsidian Order," I voice. Just saying their name makes the tiny hairs on my arms stand up. It ' s like they hold some divine power. " To be honest, I ' m not sure if they ' re the good guys or the bad ones. It ' s like pondering God ' s intentions—is God good because he gave us life and let us evolve more than other monkeys, or is God bad because he allows us to suffer? The ultimate debate. Is he a psycho because he likes to sit back with a big old bucket of buttery ambrosia-flavored popcorn and watch us tear each other apart, or is he a saint because he continues to hold out hope for us?"

His mouth quirks up at one corner. "That's pretty deep for a girl who likes to make sex jokes," Julian chides.

"I like it deep," I wink, and then we both burst into laughter. I appreciate Julian; he not only knows how to laugh, but more importantly, he knows when not to judge. If I can't make inappropriate jokes to mask my pain, then what's the point of living?

" So you ' re comparing this group to God," Julian comments.

"Yeah, they're everywhere," I circle my hands in the air, illustrating their omnipresence, "All over the web, politics, banking, education. Like a spirit, they seem to be something people fear and praise. Their name alone makes world leaders pause and think. Is that a sign of virtue or vice? They've helped as many people as they've ruined." My expression shifts, eyebrows knitting together.

"Hmm," Julian nods, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. "Interesting point. Not sure it was worth the spa day, though," he teases.

"No reneging," I retort with a smirk.

"I ' d never," he smiles, soft and gentle—the kind that could make women swoon. Kent's smile isn't like that; it's a reflection of my own, and the narcissist in me adores my own reflection. I relish seeing the mask that conceals all the fractures. The problem with Kent is he wants to expose all my cracks and then fill them; he wants to make me whole again. I don ' t want that. Life was simpler when I was completely broken; I had less to lose.

" Andrew and his dad are getting arrested tomorrow. Theo told me before I left. Poppy ' s name won ' t be in the documents. They found enough evidence without involving her," Julian blurts out, the urgency in his voice cutting through the air.

I blink, the news hitting me like a wave—relief floods in, mingling with a tinge of frustration. I had envisioned a more... personal form of justice for Andrew and his father. " The Obsidian Order doesn ' t do things publicly," I counter, trying to hide my mixed emotions.

Julian ' s gaze is steadfast. " I asked Theo to wrap this up for Poppy. I want this all to end so Poppy and I can move on with our lives."

" You could dismantle the Sinclairs in ways that don ' t involve the justice system," I argue, not ready to let go of the vendetta just yet.

" I thought of Poppy," he insists, his voice softer now. " She takes everything and turns it into guilt."

He ' s spot on. It ' s a flaw of hers, one I ' ve been wrestling with for years.

Julian continues. " She can ' t twist this into guilt, though. It ' s not a quick death; it ' s not even death. It ' s a lifetime locked away."

" Can Theo guarantee that?" The skepticism in my voice barely masks the hope burgeoning within me.

Julian nods. " The Obsidian Order can. This... it ' s just a public spectacle to humble the Sinclairs. They ' re not getting out. No bail, just a life sentence."

Oh, fuck. Julian ' s the good guy here. He just proved it beyond doubt.

I would have dragged the Sinclairs to some unmarked grave, ensuring their torment lasted years. That would have haunted Poppy had she found out.

" Thank you," escapes me.

He shakes his head, a rueful smile touching his lips. " Don ' t thank me. I did it for Poppy."

We lapse into silence, the gravity of his words sinking in.

Julian clears his throat. "You ' re not shocked I ' m here."

" I ' ve been tracking you,"I reply, looking at him. " You ' re not shocked." I parrot his words back to him.

" I ' d be shocked if you weren ' t," he says, his smile slowly unfurling, softening the rugged contours of his face. " Why ' d you let me come? Why not run again?"

I stretch, arms reaching for the sky in an exaggerated yawn. " Poppy ' s more of a ‘ staycation ' than a ‘ sprint across borders ' kind of girl. I figured if we stayed put, it would corner you into spilling the beans. Plus, it gave me extra time to play detective."

" Did you uncover anything?"

" Bits and pieces." My gaze sharpens, slicing through the space between us. " Care to fill in the gaps?"

" Yeah." Julian nods, a determined glint in his eye as it drifts toward the front door. " Poppy ' s inside?"

Confirming with a nod, I watch his reaction closely.

" You slept in the car."

I shrug. Ouch, that hurts; my bones feel like the marrow was replaced with cement.

" Why?" His inquiry digs deeper, each word a shovel unearthing more than I'm willing to share.

I scrutinize him with a skeptical squint. He ' s digging too much. The Sterling men have that issue. You see, the Sterling men are good old Texans; they think if they keep digging, they will eventually hit oil. The handsome fools that they are don't understand that sometimes you hit the devil instead. A.K.A. me pissed off.

" Because I can," I bite. " What is this, twenty-one questions?"

Julian looks down at me over his shoulder. I glance back at the house, at the white picket fence surrounding it. Birds chirping in the trees, the faint hint of jasmine blossoms in the air. Behind the house is a detached garage, and inside is another thing I have from Peter ' s. Something I haven ' t touched in years but suddenly feel the need to.

" The house," Julian states.

" It ' s my safe house."

" No," He shakes his head, " I know that, but you ' re looking at it like a mirror."

" What?"

" A reflection of the past you don ' t want to see. That ' s why you slept in the car."

Maybe he did hit oil. Was it that clear on my face?

My breath leaves my lungs faster than a naughty child can stab a balloon with a fork. Pop!

Julian is good with details. Too good.

He begins to shake his head. " I get it. Theo said the house belonged to Peter Corazón. I figured—we all figured—it was just a made-up name."

" Stop."

" Peter, as in Poppy ' s Peter," He continues. " Corazón. That ' s Spanish for heart."

Yeah, and you just made mine feel like it was stabbed.

Julian falls silent, his words evaporating into the crisp air. The only sounds filling the void are the carefree chirping of birds, oblivious to the turmoil below, and the agonizing crack of my heart shattering into fragments.

" Does Poppy know?" Julian asks gently.

"Does my best friend know I loved her brother?" The words escape me, heavier than I intended, as I lean heavily against the car, every muscle in my body aching with a mix of physical soreness and emotional exhaustion.

"No." The admission hangs in the air, mingling with the quiet hush of the street around us—a street so serene and untouched, it seems almost mocking in its tranquility, oblivious to the storm raging inside me.

" She wouldn ' t judge you." He offers his words like a lifeline he wants me to grasp.

You're Poppy's savior, not mine, buddy.

" I know. But she would judge herself."

His silence tells me he understands now. If I told Poppy I loved her brother, the brother she blames herself for killing, she ' d only hate herself more. If Poppy knew I loved Peter enough to purchase the house he loved using his name and the meaning of heart because Peter will always have my heart, well, that would devastate her.

So I bury it all in secrets and pretty lies.

It ' s worked so far.

As I lean back against the car, the cold metal is a sharp contrast to my fevered thoughts. I can't help but tilt my head skyward.There ' s a faint scent of smoke in the air, mixing with the morning blossoms, causing something sinister to stir in my belly. I heard firetrucks through the night and police cars in the far distance. Thankfully, they didn ' t wake Poppy.

"You're surprisingly easy to talk to," I let slip, a bit of warmth breaking through my usual armor.

Julian's response is a slow, knowing smile, "Came here precisely for that." And then, as if opening Pandora's box, Julian lays it all out. And boy, does he lay it on me. Julian spills the beans on Theo ' s antics, for whom Theo ' s been pulling strings. Who wanted to plan Poppy ' s new life? If I weren't leaning against the car, gravity would have pulled me down.

I can't believe it.

"You're awfully quiet," Julian comments, a hint of wariness creeping into his voice as he eyes me leaning casually against the car, arms crossed.

"I'm processing," I snap back, the shock of his story. "You've dumped a whole soap opera on me."

"And Poppy?" he probes, concern etching deeper into his features, "How's she going to deal with this?"

My gaze shifts to the grocery bag sitting innocently on the car roof. "Depends on what emergency rations you ' ve got there. I don ' t see any 'I'm sorry' bouquets."

"Pumpkin coffee and pastries," he says, hopeful, maybe a bit too eager.

I can't help but smirk. "Well, that's practically a love letter for her."

"Do you think she'll forgive me?" There's a raw edge to his question, unexpected and revealing.

"Absolutely," I shoot back without missing a beat. Julian's just another pawn in this messed-up game, the same as Poppy.

"I can't believe it," I mutter, more to myself. I can ' t fathom why he did what he did. At the same time, I completely understand.

We both turn and look at the house where Poppy is safely tucked inside.

"Can I have some time alone with Poppy to tell her everything?" Julian asks.

"Sure." I eye the detached garage behind the house. "I'll go for a morning bike ride."

"Thank you." He replies, then he straightens, "She still sleeping?"

"Yeah, We shared a few cans of cheap wine. There is Advil in the cabinet to the left of the fridge."

"Can wine?" He raises a brow.

"Don't ask?"

He smirks. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'm fine," I reply, but my throat feels tight,

"Kent," Julian hesitates, "He wanted to come." His grey eyes bore into mine, carrying a warning. ‘ Please, don't hurt my brother, ' his eyes seem to plead.

" Do you believe in parallel universes, alternative realities, and all that jazz," I ask Julian.

He tilts his head, probably wondering if I'm high or still drunk on the can of wine.

"Humor me." I push.

He crosses his arms over his wide chest, " I never really thought about it. I ' ve got enough on my plate in this world; I can ' t begin to think about another."

" What if, in another world, your plate was cleaner?"

" What if it was worse?" He counters.

"Some nights, I lay awake thinking about my life in a different universe. I think about what it would have been if Peter hadn't died," I tell him. It's a confession I've bottled up inside for years—a message in a bottle that has finally found someone it wanted to reveal itself to.

Now I feel empty.

Now I feel like I have space to put something else inside. Someone else.

"That sounds like a nice dream," Julian replies swiftly. "But it's just that, a dream, it isn't your reality, Harper. You have to wake up and move on. Don't let grief swallow you. Trust me, I've felt it, felt its grips around my ankles. You have to shake it loose."

"Some nights, I think about a future with your brother." I blurt out.

" You feel guilty about that."

I nod.

" I came here to tell the truth; maybe deep down you want to tell Poppy the truth also. Maybe that will set your guilt free."

" Poppy is in a fragile state."

" She is," he agrees, " But she won ' t always be."

My gaze drifts to that stupid tree looming over the house, its branches whispering secrets of a life not lived. I find myself imagining if Peter and I would have ever carved our names into its trunk. A melancholic smile plays at the corner of my lips—perhaps, in some parallel world, Peter and I did just that.

"I'd like to think that in some other universe, Peter is alive," I whisper, letting the thought comfort me like a soft blanket on a cold night.

" That ' s a nice thought," Julian says genuinely. " But what about this universe? What about your life, Harper?"

" What about it? I ' m living it."

" What about loving it; what about loving someone else," Julian suggests. He pushes off of the car and grabs the grocery bag. " I didn ' t know Peter, but if it were me in his shoes and Poppy had another chance at love, at being loved by someone who was safe, genuine, and pure, then I ' d want her to have that."

I look at the house again, at a dream a young man once had for his future. A dream, something not tangible for him anymore. " I ' d want that too," I whisper.

Is it tangible for me? Can I have the future Peter wanted but with someone else?

I watch Julian go inside, making his way to the kitchen, where he begins to make coffee to surprise Poppy. I push out of the car, my legs feeling like a baby deer trying to find her footing on the ice. I make my way to the garage. It ' s so old that the door isn ' t electric, and it takes a lot of effort to shake loose the rust so I can shove it up and open the door. There, inside, is a ghost from the past. Leaning against the old wooden walls is a rusty old bike.

Peter ' s bike.

The bike I rode on the handlebars of. The same bike he rode me to this house on.

I walk up to it and hesitantly touch the handlebars, half worried that they might disintegrate if I touch them for too long.

Eventually, it doesn ' t kill me. I grab the bars and pull it free from the cobweb-covered wall. It cries and creaks, a sound mirroring my heart as I push it down the driveway. The tires are flat, dead, and devoid of air, like Peter. I can ' t even ride it, so I just push it down the sidewalk, pushing it into my current reality.

Glancing ahead, holding the handlebars so tightly, my knuckles scream, and tears roll down my face as I face the dawn of a new day. Somewhere in the universe, I ' d like to believe, Peter is still riding this bike, and I ' m laughing, swinging my legs, my heart filled with love as I sit on the handlebars.

I glance down at the bike, at the flat tires. My reality.

Julian is right. When I return home and put this bike away, I have to start living this life and not fantasize about a life in an alternate reality.

I love you, Peter, and I always will, but I think I love someone else, too.