Chapter 1

1

HARPER

W hy are doctor’s offices always freezing? The ugly fluorescent lights on the white tiled ceiling glare down at me while I lie flat on my back in the frigid office contemplating the state of my life. Honey sits directly beside my dangling feet, a steady comfort as usual. With each passing second, the urge to walk out claws at me.

If I leave the office before Dr. Whitman can share the results, then nothing can be wrong, right? If I don’t hear the news, then everything’s fine.

Nothing’s wrong.

“Howdy, Harper.” Dr. Whitman strides into the office with a happy-go-lucky smile.

Fuck him.

I stare blankly at him, unable to return an ounce of his enthusiastic excitement at my deteriorating health. Dr. Whitman sighs the heaviest of sighs and takes a seat on the annoying rolling chair. Pressing his wrinkled hands to his knees, he stares until I sit up on my elbows to meet his gaze. A decade of being his patient has gotten us a certain rapport. He gives me good news, I smile. He gives me bad news, I want to die. When he’s overly cheery, I know the news is going to give me the urge to swim with sharks while bleeding out.

“So, the medicine is losing its efficacy.”

“I’d say so considering I’ve had four seizures in the past six months,” I deadpan.

Dr. Whitman smiles placatingly at me. It’s infuriating. “Let’s try a new medicine. This happens sometimes, Harper. Your seizures were pretty well managed for a handful of years there. We’ll try this new one and see if it can stop the breakthrough seizures. How’s that sound?”

“How were my scans?”

Dr. Whitman blinks slowly at my question, then turns to scroll through my file on his laptop. My anxiety ramps up when he’s silent, but it settles again when he turns back to smile at me. Less of a bad news smile, and more of a nothing has changed smile. I’ll take that one.

“Normal. I don’t see anything abnormal to indicate the increase in your seizures, which again tells me it’s probably the medicine.” Dr. Whitman stands with a tired groan, knees popping as he shifts. Old geezer. Just kidding, he’s probably my father’s age. Still kind of old, though. “If the seizures increase, call for an emergency appointment. Otherwise, I’ll see you in three months to see how the new medicine is helping. And remember?—”

“No dangerous activities while the seizures are still happening,” I interrupt him with a deep roll of my eyes.

“Yes, well. Try to avoid your triggers.”

I salute him with a vicious smirk. The old guy leaves the room with a weary sigh, probably used to my antics at this point. Most people make a similar sound after dealing with me. Always too much. Usually too little. I’m never just the right amount for anyone. Honey and I plod out of the stuffy doctor’s office and into the bright sunlight of late fall Florida. If I was young, and able to make bad decisions, I’d spend the afternoon in downtown Orlando getting drunk off my ass. Forgetting all about my problems. Forgetting about me .

But no. Instead, my mother idles in her expensive Beemer, waiting to drive me back to Clay Springs, with her strawberry-blonde hair piled up high in a tight bun.

“So?” Mom asks as she pulls out of the parking lot, foregoing her blinker because she doesn’t care about traffic safety.

“Just changing my medicine.”

She hums softly. “All the scans were fine?”

Every ounce of restraint in my body stops me from rolling my eyes. “Yes, Mother.”

This is the way it goes. Doctor’s appointment, she asks how it went, I give her the report, and then she stays silent the entire drive home. Both of my parents are high-profile attorneys without much time for me. Having a kid with a medical issue was a little hiccup they never signed up for. Sometimes I’m not sure they even really wanted me, instead they were just checking off some list that they made up in their head to secure their successful status. But any time I’ve voiced that, my father gets this sad look in his eyes and says we wanted you so badly, Harp .

Crock of shit if I’ve ever heard one.

The prescription is ready, so we make a pit stop at the pharmacy. Mom makes idle chitchat with the pharmacist, but I keep my gaze firmly out the window. Everyone in this goddamn town knows about Harper , the redhead that needs to be watched. Makes me sick. I wish I could go somewhere without being known, be someone else, not worry about having a seizure and waking up covered in piss. Just once.

My little farmhouse looms on the horizon, settling all the aches and pains I’d gathered from enduring the doctor’s visit. A few years ago my parents gave me an acre of their land, and I’d used savings, some of my trust fund, and the money I’d squirreled away from a few years of being a data analyst to build a small little bungalow. That had been the argument from hell and also how Honey came into the picture. If I wanted to live alone, there were stipulations to keep me safe.

A service dog was one of them.

One of those old-people monitors was the other.

Let’s just say there’s no old-people monitor in my house and Honey is really good at her job. She can even dial paramedics if she needs to because she’s just a furry human.

Without a word to my mother, I hastily climb out of the car. Honey follows quietly along behind me. Just as I’m about to walk into the front door, my mother shouts, “Harper!” turning my attention back to her.

She leans across the console, eyes firmly on me. “You’ll let me know if the medicine makes you sick?”

I bite back a grimace. “Sure, Mom. I’ll see you at Sunday lunch.”

A few beats pass, as if she’s considering saying something else, before she waves stiffly and drives off towards their side of the property. Once I’ve turned the alarm system off, I pad slowly into the kitchen, staring blankly into my mostly empty fridge. Damn. I need to place another order for groceries.

The clock on the microwave reads early in the afternoon, so I should sit down and do more work… but I’d already taken time off for the afternoon. Alright, no more work. Honey hops up on the couch beside me, resting her head sweetly on my lap as I pull up a grocery order on my phone. Once that’s placed, I lie back on the comfortable sectional and open up a streaming service on my television. Despite my sour mood from the morning’s activities, a smile tugs at my lips when my eyes fall onto my subscriptions list.

I click onto the familiar video of a skateboarder I’ve been following for years. He skates around business parks, only ending the video once he’s been chased off property. The guy is cute, although woefully straight, if his social media and girlfriend is anything to be believed. But that’s not the point.

The point is that he can do risky things, fearless things, and I live vicariously through him. My mind shuts off as I watch him do tricks on steep stairs. What feels like hours pass by, but it can’t be that long because the doorbell goes off, alerting me to the arrival of my groceries. I give them just enough time to drop everything off. Once I’m sure they’re gone, I open the front door, just barely catching their taillights as they exit my long driveway.

Another normal, boring night. Just me and Honey and the new medicine I picked up at the pharmacy. What a thrilling life.

I’m dialed in listening to nineties pop ballads and working at my desk when there’s a heavy knock at my door. Honey perks up, on high alert just from the sound, but she doesn’t leave my side. Not after I was up sick all night from the new meds.

I peek through the keyhole, then open the door with a scowl.

“What?”

Andy rolls her eyes, dark curls bouncing as she shoves her way bodily into my

house. I’m annoyed for a brief second, only until she pinches my cheeks with her nose scrunched up in clear delight. I hate her. Just kidding. She’s my best friend and cousin and I adore her. But I’ll never tell her that. Ever.

“Your mom told my mom about the new medicine. Figured I’d come check on you because I bet you’ve been sick but aren’t telling anyone because you think you’re a burden.” She plops down on my sofa, all comfort and cockiness at her clearly correct statement, her gaze sweeping from my toes to tired eyes. “You look like shit, Harp.”

“Yeah, well.” I toss myself onto the sofa beside her with a heavy sigh. “Spent the night on the toilet. Every time I switch medicines, it fucks my stomach up for days.”

“Think you’ll make it to the first weekend of the autumn festival?”

I grimace at the reminder. The first week of the autumn festival is always a big deal. But I just don’t know if I have the energy. Plus, what if I have a seizure in the middle of the crowd? Everyone pointing and staring at me… a shiver rolls through me just at the idea. High school was enough, I don’t need it as an adult too.

“I’ll feel fine by tomorrow… probably.”

She hums in clear disagreement. “The guys from Eli and Colby’s barbecue are here. That cute one, Jackson.”

I blink slowly at her. “Okay?”

“He was hitting on you.”

An absolutely maniacal snort escapes me before I realize she’s serious. “You’re a lunatic. Nobody flirts with me.”

Andy leans forward with an awkward grunt and pinches my arm, hard. I yank my arm away with a deep frown. That actually hurt.

“What the fuck?”

“You’re an idiot,” Andy says seriously, with all the gravity of someone admitting to a grievous sin.

“Okay.”

“Do you want to watch your skateboarder?”

I roughly rub at my tired eyes. “I still have some more work to do.”

“I’ll cook you dinner while you finish up, then we can watch some TV and gossip. I heard that Mr. Travis drove another tractor through town while the cops tried to flag him down. He seriously needs to be stopped. That old man is going to kill someone!”

I nod as she prattles on about town gossip, returning to my room once she peters off. The sound of her messing around in the kitchen filters into my room as I wrap up work for the day. Something sweet floats in the air when I make my way back towards the kitchen. Pancakes with a side of scrambled eggs and blueberries I don’t remember buying.

“Did you?—”

“I used the griddle,” Andy says with a roll of her eyes.

“And the blueberries?”

“From my freezer at the house, last season’s,” Andy explains when she catches my look toward the blueberries.

My stomach grumbles just at the sight of the delicious food. Andy is always taking care of me, because I take such bad care of myself. We eat silently together, then spend the evening doing just as Andy said. Watching my favorite videos, with her fingers carding gently through my hair. She’s the only person that ever touches me like this and I never take it for granted. Around midnight, she hustles me into my bedroom, tucks me in, then gently kisses my forehead. The soft smell of her floral perfume wafts over me, a smell that reminds me of comfort and home and love.

“The festival is tomorrow, please try to come,” Andy whispers against my forehead.

I grumble in annoyance, batting her hand away as she sweeps her fingers across my cheek. Her laughter is the last thing I hear before succumbing to sleep.

Despite my stomach feeling like it wants to rebel out of my body, I do end up attending the autumn festival. Bright early autumn sun, the smell of sunflowers in the air, and the laughter of children greets me as I climb out of my rideshare.

I look down at Honey, and our eyes meet as she stares up at me, both of us unsure if I should be in this crowd. She’s probably right. I pat her head gently, then triple-check to make sure her vest is on securely. Andy texted me earlier to let me know she’d be working and that I should stop by to see her by the sunflower fields. I figure once I see her and prove to her that I actually left the house, then I can turn right back around and head home.

Making my way through the crowd wasn’t as hard as I’d expected. At least not with Honey at my side. Most people give me a wide berth when they notice her. Catching sight of Colby has my speed increasing in that direction. But the closer I get, the more obvious it is that he isn’t alone. Those guys from the barbecue are there, just like Andy said they’d be. The tall one, Jackson, looms over everyone else, even taller than Colby, although only slightly.

With my nose scrunched in irritation, I approach them wearily. I feel a bit like I’m approaching wild lions on the hunt. Colby grins broadly at the sight of me, loosening all the anxiety and worry that ebbed up inside me on my slow approach.

Jackson pushes past Trevor to stand beside me. “Want a muffin? I have one left.”

I blink up at him in confusion. What’s wrong with this dude? “I ate breakfast already. Thank you though.”

“Oh yeah, sure,” Jackson says, a hint of dejection in his voice.

I tear my gaze from Jackson to survey the crowd. Good turnout this year. A couple of kids run around, screaming with joy in the pumpkin patch, tearing a rare smile from me. I love kids. Something so pure about them.

“Hey, Harper, isn’t there a pie-eating contest? I bet Jackson could win it,” Trevor asks, all blond hair and sweet smiles. Gross. I scowl at him for a second which only earns me the same sweet smile back.

My gaze pings back to Jackson when I don’t get a reaction from Trevor. I take Jackson in, from the perfectly brand-new sneakers on his large feet, up his jean-clad mile-long legs, over the tight muscles of his forearms where a light dusting of black hair covers his dark brown skin and then finally to his smiling face, where there’s an odd twinkle in his eye. Asshole knows what he looks like, but I won’t give in.

I scrunch my nose up in indifference. “Yeah, maybe.”

A while goes by as I stand, feeling out of place among the group of friends. Just when I’m about to head towards the sunflowers to check on Andy, Cindy comes barreling towards us.

“Look at all you boys. Harper, your mama is in the office looking for you.”

Fuck. I ignored her calls this morning, plus the one from my dad, hoping if I ignored them, they’d just assume I felt fine. One look at me and Mom will know I had an adverse reaction to the medicine. Then she’ll want me to go back to the doctor. But I know my body, every time I start a new medicine, there’s an adjustment period. I just need time, some relaxation, and to be left the fuck alone.

Without a word, I head towards the office, head held high to face my mother.

“Wait! Harper!” a voice calls out from behind me.

Freezing in the middle of the crowd, I turn around to face Jackson running toward me. I glance behind me, thinking maybe he’s yelling at someone else with my name. But when I turn back, he’s stopped in front of me with that weird, oddly charming smile on his lips.

“Hi,” Jackson says, his grin now eating up his entire face.

“Can I help you?”

Jackson blinks at me, eyes carefully scanning my face. “I’m in town for a few more days. Do you want to get together maybe?”

The question takes me so by surprise that I don’t even know how to verbalize it. This has to be an elaborate joke. A prank. Maybe Eli and Trevor’s friends are assholes. Seems unlikely considering Eli and Trevor are basically angels on earth, but anything is possible.

“Get together?” I repeat, words having the same ring they would if I were to ask do you have time to kill a baby deer?

Jackson takes another step forward, and I take a careful step back. “Yeah, maybe we can hang out?”

Lead fills my stomach just at the idea. No fucking thanks. “No, sorry.” My heart starts to race and bile fills my throat. It’s just like when I was a teenager all over again. The butt of the joke. I lift my hand and run it through my hair, thumb lingering on the jagged scar near my eye.

“No?”

I shake my head violently. “I have severe allergies.” I fake a sneeze.

A furrow forms between his dark eyebrows. “Okay?”

I sneeze again. “I’m allergic to bullshit. That’s why I have Honey. She’s my bullshit detector.”

Because Honey is a good girl, she sneezes too, aiming her narrowed gaze up at Jackson. The man stares at us in what seems to be amused confusion. Assuming we’re done, I turn around, and keep making my way in the direction of the front office.

Honey presses against my side as we continue on our way through the crowd. I assume I’ve shaken Jackson off, considering the silence, but as I approach my destination, I realize that I have a shadow that’s not mine. I pause again, turning my now irritated gaze on him.

“Do you want to give me an anaphylactic reaction?”

Jackson’s mouth opens and closes a few times, before he huffs, shoving his large hands into his pockets. The man sure is beautiful. If I had a type, if I could be with someone, the man might be an option. But I have no options and I cannot have a type.

“I’ll be in town for a few days. Are you sure we can’t hang out?”

I scowl at him, letting the entire weight of my ire for the question be aimed at him. “I don’t need company. Go back to your friends.”

His eye twitches as he stares down at me. I fight back a shiver at his assessing gaze. His eyes are so brown that I can hardly make out his pupil. The prettiest eyes I’ve ever seen, just like the rest of him. Disgusting. Finally, he seems to get it, and disappears back toward his friends. He glances over his shoulder once, and I flick him off with a smirk. Just before he turns around, a small smile tugs at his lips, making me feel less like I won, and more like maybe he did. Something about that rankles and excites me at the same time.

Mom’s gaze slowly sweeps over me as I enter into the mostly silent front office. One second, two seconds, and then…

“The medicine made you sick, didn't it? I can’t believe you came to this, Harper. When you get sick, it lowers your immune system, you could get sicker.”

Stifling the urge to argue, I curl my fingers into my palms, letting the bite of pain steady my irritation at her treating me like a child. Still. At twenty-five.

“I’m fine. I feel great.”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll give you a ride home.”

“I’m staying.”

Her stare turns even harder, foot tapping against the floor. “No. I’m taking you home. No arguments.”

All the fight bleeds out of me when my stomach rolls dangerously, sending nausea rippling through me. She must see it on my face, because victory seeps into her features, for only a moment, before she carefully fixes her face.

I was at the festival for like twenty minutes

feel sick, going home with my mom

Andy

I love you, Harp.

If you loved me, you’d kill me

THAT IS NOT FUNNY

Lol