“Wait, what?” I turn toward him. “You talked to Harper yesterday?”

He takes a sip and plays with the condensation on the glass. “Yup. Almost ran her over. We sat down on a bench for a little bit and talked. I wanted to see how she was doing, since I know it’s just her and her dad. I think you tend to forget how much she treated our family as her own. How much she relied on Mom for that mother figure in her life. She didn’t just lose you, Rogan; she lost all of us.”

Fuck if I don’t already know that.

“Believe me, if I could, I would let her have all of you. I know how much the family meant to her. The fact that I unintentionally took that away from her splinters my soul every goddamn day.”

“She’s not doing well. I could see it in her eyes, and I don’t think it’s just because of you. Something’s going on with her, something that brought her back to Port Snow.”

I squeeze my eyes shut, hating that I’m having this conversation. “I know. I saw it too. And her reasons for coming back aren’t matching up with her job at the inn. I don’t know . . . it feels like something happened and she’s not telling anyone—well, at least us.”

“I agree. I have no idea what it is.” He’s silent for a second. “She apologized for not coming back home when Claire passed.”

“Of course she did. They were good friends; I can’t imagine what she felt when she found out.” Just one more thing I took away from her. “What did you tell her?”

“I told her she didn’t have to apologize and that no matter what, I would always be a big brother to her.”

Because that’s who Griffin is. No matter who you are or where you come from, if you’re accepted into the Knightly clan, Griffin will always protect you. If only he could have protected Harper from me.

“Christ, man.” I shake my head and stare down at the bar. “I think I feel even worse after this conversation.”

He chuckles and pats me on the back. “Well, I think the worst is yet to come.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because she just walked through the door, and I happened to motion for her to come over here.”

“Wh—” I look up to find Harper nervously standing a few feet away, a blue-and-white striped beanie on her head and a white puffy jacket wrapped around her small frame.

“Hey.” She waves hesitantly. “Just picking up some food for my dad and me. He can’t get enough of Hal’s pretzels. I won’t disturb you two.”

“Not disturbing us at all.” Griffin stands up from his barstool and motions for Harper to sit down. “You can wait here; I have some people I want to thank. Good seeing you, Harper.”

She eyes the seat like it’s about to set itself on fire and then glances back at Griffin. “Uh . . . good seeing you too.”

Not taking a seat right away, she just stares at the stool, most likely trying to figure out what to do, so I make the decision for her. It will be more awkward if she doesn’t sit down next to me with all the eyes I can feel staring us down. Without giving it a second thought, I stand and lift her up by the waist and set her on the stool. She gasps at my abruptness and sits ramrod straight, one hand on the bar, bracing herself.

I sit back down and turn to my water. “There, now you don’t have to decide what the hell you want to do.” I would love a fucking shot right about now.

Instead, I turn to the pretzel I vowed I wouldn’t eat, tear off a piece, and stick it in my mouth. If I’m not drinking, at least I can try to find consolation in carbs.

“Hey, Harper,” Hal says, walking over with a water glass. “Your order should be out soon.”

From the corner of my eye, I watch her give the old man a sweet smile. “Thank you, Hal.”

“Anytime.” He taps the bar. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

As Hal walks away, he eyes me, giving me a warning look before tending to another patron. Yeah, I know, I’m not the locals’ favorite, now that Harper’s in town to remind them how much I fucked up.

I don’t think anyone here knows the true story. I’ve only delivered bits and pieces to my family, but in the end, Harper was the town sweetheart, while I was the asshole who broke her heart and drove her away. Whose side do you think they’d take?

They’d better take hers. She deserves nothing but love from everyone who crosses her path.

The pretzel tastes like cement in my mouth, tough and unappealing, so I push it to the side.

“Not going to eat that?” Harper asks, surprising me.

“Nah.”

“Can I have a taste?”

“I don’t care what you do,” I answer, the words harsh as they roll off my tongue. I’m about to apologize when someone comes up behind us and shakes both of our shoulders.

“At last, you two are together again.”

I inwardly groan. Fucking Franklin. The center of all the town gossip and the slicer of deli meat, he has a penchant for driving me crazy and not paying his rent on time.

“Took long enough. And even with the curse looming over you, you still went for it. Good for you, Rogan, not feeding into the town gossip of the Knightlys’ broken love.” He grins.

“Get the fuck out of here, Franklin,” I mutter, not giving him the decency of turning around to face him. Fucking moron.

“Ooh, still moody. How do you put up with him, Harper?”

I glance in her direction; her eyes are wide, and a flush is creeping up her cheeks.

“How are you, Franklin?” she asks, instead of answering his question. She’s always been good at keeping the calm.

Franklin leans against my chair. “Oh, you know, just got some Boar’s Head ham for wholesale and some real Vermont cheese from a local vendor. I’m offering specialty sandwiches at the shop, and I’m killing it with my homemade mustard.”

His mustard is really fucking good. The asshole.

“Oh, that’s great. I’ll have to stop by at some point, pick up a sandwich.”

“Yes, I would love for the both of you to come into the deli, maybe share a sandwich, Lady and the Tramp style. I have a perfect bistro set in front of my store window where everyone could see you. I’d give you half off, just for the exposure that the new ‘It couple’ stopped in my shop.”

And there it is. I should have known. There’s no doubt in my mind Franklin would be taking pictures and capitalizing on opportunity. He has no shame.

“Oh, that’s—”

“We’re not together,” I answer, downing the rest of my drink just as Hal places Harper’s bag in front of her. Slamming down my glass, I stand and turn to face the rest of the bar. “We’re not together,” I shout for everyone to hear. “So you can stop trying to butt into our damn business. We ended things a long time ago, and we’re keeping it that way. So leave me the fuck alone and stop asking me about Harper.”

A stunned Franklin backs away as I plop back down in my seat. There, that should end the speculation. I turn to Harper to give her a curt nod, let her know I took care of it. But tears are welling up in her eyes, and mortification is written all over her face.

Fuuuuck.

“Harper—”

She takes off without even hearing me out, her jacket whipping me in the side, her hair a departing wave of beautiful red.

I bury my head in my hands as I feel someone lean in close. I peek through my fingers to find Hal, a moral compass in the flesh. “Either you go apologize for embarrassing her, or you’ll never step foot in this bar again.”

“Yeah, okay.” I sigh and toss forty dollars on the bar. “Sorry, Hal.”

“Don’t apologize to me.”

All eyes on me—I don’t have to look around to know they are—I briskly pass through the crowd and head straight out the door. I look to the right, toward the peninsula, and find Harper’s quickly retreating form.

Pain ricochets through my chest. Are the tears that welled up in her eyes now running down her cheeks?

Not giving a second thought, I jog after her, catching up in a few short seconds. “Harper, wait.”

She doesn’t stop.

“Hold on.”

She picks up her pace.

Christ.

“Harper.” I sprint ahead of her and plant my body in her path. “Christ, let me talk to you for a second.”

Just as I suspect, when she looks up, I find tears streaming down her face. “Leave me alone, Rogan.”

She tries to push past me, but I stop her, hands to her shoulders. “Just wait, please.” She pauses, and I step back, pushing my hand through my hair. “I’m sorry, okay? I thought I was helping you back there.”

“Helping me?” Anger twists her features, her eyes narrowing, and her breath picks up, puffs of white floating into the air. “How on earth was that helping me? You humiliated me.”

I sigh. “I wasn’t trying to humiliate you. I was trying to . . . fuck, I was trying to let everyone know to leave us alone. I’m sure the last thing you want is for people to think we’re together.”

“I know that’s the last thing you want,” she mutters, folding her arms over her chest.

“Harper.”

“No.” She jabs a finger at me. “You don’t get to be an ass to me anymore. I’ve had my fill of your nastiness.”