“Depends.” She nibbles on her lip nervously. “Before I risk my hand for your shoe, I kind of want to know what all that kissing was about.”

“Kissing? Well, you know, that happens when one person finds another person irresistible.”

“Irresistible?” Now it’s her turn to raise a questioning brow at me. “You think I’m irresistible?”

“Have you seen your legs?” She swats my stomach, and I laugh, holding on to her hand and growing serious, because if I know Harper like I do, she needs answers. “I like you, Harper, and not just as a friend but as so much more. I don’t know when it happened this summer, but . . .” I pull on the back of my neck. “I can’t stop thinking about you, and not in a you’re my best friend kind of way.”

“Really?” A small smile pulls at the corner of her lip. “Because I can’t stop thinking about you, and not in a friend way either.”

I tug on a strand of her hair. “Are you crushing on me, Harp?”

She pushes my shoulder. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing, just making sure the feeling is mutual, because I’m crushing so freaking hard on you.”

Her smirk turns into a full-on grin. “So . . . what does that mean?”

In this house, where we’ve spent so many nights playing cards, having serious conversations, and creating some of the best memories I have, I throw my heart on the line. “I want you to be my girlfriend.”

I entwine our hands, and relief floods through me as she clutches her fingers around mine. “But what about our friendship? I don’t want to lose that.”

“Me neither, and we won’t. Because above anything, we’re best friends. We’ll never lose that.”

“Promise?”

I nod. “Remember the blood pact? Friends forever, Harp. But now I get to date and kiss my best friend. I don’t think it gets better than that.”

She considers this; for all her confidence, she’s always been the thoughtful one between the two of us. “If I do this, if I allow myself to truly experience these feelings I have for you, I’m afraid you’ll hurt me.”

My brow pinches together. “Why would you think that?”

A “come on” look mars her face. “You’re a Knightly. Your family practically owns the town; you could have anyone in school, especially after the game tonight. Who’s to say you won’t break my heart?”

Does she really think that? After everything we’ve been through together. Wanting to reassure her, I pull her onto my lap, hoping it’s not too awkward of a move, and cradle her face. “You’re my best friend, the one person who knows everything about me. I would never risk losing that, ever. I want you to be my girlfriend.”

“I want that too,” she answers quietly. “I really do.”

“Then it’s settled; we’re dating.”

“Just like that?” she asks.

“Yup. Just like that.” I plant a quick kiss on her lips and then lift her off my lap, giving her a playful swat on the ass.

“Hey!”

Before she can question me, I point to the hole. “Now fetch me my shoe, woman.”

I’ve never really known the true meaning of murderous eyes until right now. Harper turns that searing gaze on me and scares me right to my core.

“Excuse me?”

“You know I’m kidding.” I poke her in the ribs. “Come on, let’s grab my shoe and make out some more.”

She eyes me for a second more. “Fine, but only because you’re good at kissing.”

“Damn right I am.”

She rolls her eyes. “Go get a flashlight, you fool. I want to be able to see what I’m doing.”

I hobble over to the kitchen, where I pull our blankets from the cupboard, snag a flashlight, and bring them over to Harper. Flashlight for my girl; blankets for after. You know, so we can lie down and make out.

She switches the flashlight on and shines it into the hole. “Huh . . . there seems to be something in there.”

“Yeah, my shoe.”

“No, you doofus, something else.” She reaches below the floorboard and quickly tosses my shoe at me. Then she reaches in again and pulls out a decent-size shoebox covered in dust. Setting down the flashlight, she blows on the box, sending a cloud of dirt into the air but revealing nothing on the box.

“Open it.” I nudge her.

“What if it’s a skull or something? I can handle spiders, but human bones is another thing.”

“Does it feel heavy enough to be a skull?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugs, testing the weight in her hand. “I’ve never held a skull before.”

“Well, only one way to find out.” I flip the top off the shoebox, making Harper squeal and drop it. Once the dust from the ground has settled, we lean over as one and take in the contents.

“Letters,” Harper whispers, picking one up and examining it. “Wow, these are so old.”

I pick one up as well and try to read the worn-out ink on the envelope. “Maybe they’re love letters or something. Who lived here before?”

“Umm, Emma and Ignatius Vale? My dad says everyone called him Iggy. They died in a boating accident, right? They didn’t have any family to take the house, so it just sits here, which is why it’s been empty for so long.”

“Really?” I scan the manor. “I wonder why no one’s bought it.”

“My dad told me once that the person who owns it, who actually inherited it, refuses to sell. Instead, they just let it sit here, rotting.”

“Who owns it?”

She shrugs. “It’s a secret.”

I flip open the envelope and pull out a letter.

“Maybe we can find the answer in one of these letters.”

Bringing the flashlight over, Harper snuggles in close. I wrap my arm around her and read the letter out loud.

My dearest Iggy,

It’s been two weeks since I last saw you, and it’s breaking my heart. I miss you more than words can convey. It’s almost as if the ocean has stopped churning, the wind has stopped blowing, and the sun has stopped setting ever since you left. I can’t fathom what another week will feel like without you by my side. And every time I imagine that wench in my house, floating by those beautiful windows, acting like she’s the one you bought it for, it tears me apart.

I pause. “Wait . . . what?”

“Was Iggy having an affair?” Harper asks, a smile tugging on her lips. She finishes reading the letter.

Just promise me that all the decorating, all the fixtures and the paint, they reflect our ideas, the ones we dreamt of for so many years. For one day, we will be together, and when that day comes, I want it to be like we never skipped a beat.

I love you dearly.

Your Forever Girl

“What the hell?” I flip the letter over for any other information. “Iggy was having a freaking affair!”

“Oh, Iggy.” Harper shakes her head and picks up another envelope. “Looks like we have a long night ahead of us.”

“Wait.” I pause her hand. “What about making out?”

She chuckles and presses a sweet kiss to my lips. “We have plenty of time to do that later. Right now, we have a mystery to solve.”

And just like that, I have my best friend back.

CHAPTER NINE

HARPER

Wreaths and Christmas lights are scattered on flower boxes and along all the storefronts of Main Street. Locals are decorating and getting ready for the holiday season as Christmas music plays from the speakers strategically placed along the street. I remember when they decided to put in a sound system for the holidays. I was living in Vermont, and my dad called me, told me everyone in town was so pleased they were finally able to afford speakers for Main Street. I giggled then, temporarily missing my hometown.

Only temporarily, though, because being here now is painful. I do love the feeling this town gives me, the closeness, the community, and it reminds me of how lucky I was to grow up with such amazing people. But with every turn of the corner, every smell wafting from a storefront, every beat of the waves against the shore, I remember what I used to have with Rogan.

That’s the problem with a small town: it holds an ocean of memories, good and bad, that washes over you every time you step outside your house. And dating in a small town? Forget it. You’re bound to run into your ex, or someone who wants to talk about your ex, or in my case, your ex’s entire family. It’s never ending.

At least I’m not running into my latest ex. I shiver at the thought, trying to block off the painful memories begging to be remembered. No, I refuse to acknowledge anything to do with him.

But avoidance is lonely.

That’s why after two weeks of holing up on the peninsula, I’m venturing into town. I have to face the music at some point and start a routine that’s beyond waitressing at the inn or helping my dad clean the lighthouse panes.

With my hands tucked into my jacket pockets, I kindly smile at the people I pass by. I get some “good mornings” and some “how are yous,” but I don’t stick around long enough to start up a conversation. I keep moving to my single destination: Snow Roast for some coffee.

I purposefully denied myself coffee this morning so I was forced to walk down into town and get a cup.