This is why you never carpool.

Dinner was awkward thanks to Brig’s announcement. Thankfully, Rogan set everyone straight, stating that we were not making out, just talking, even though we both know if Brig hadn’t interrupted us, we very well might have kissed.

And that’s what I can’t stop thinking about now. If we had kissed, what would I have done after that? Run away? Kissed him some more? Held his hand at dinner?

No.

I can’t.

My stomach twists with uncertainty. Getting involved with Rogan would be a very bad idea. This is why I’ve sequestered myself in the corner with Jen and Ren, trying to stay as far away from Rogan as possible.

“Are you enjoying the new job?” Ren asks, taking a sip of tea. Man, this Knightly clan doesn’t let up, do they?

“I am. I’m surprised at how easy it came. The hardest part is working with some of the property owners and scheduling. But other than that, finding the locations was almost too simple.”

“That’s amazing. Is this something you think you want to do full time after this?”

I shrug. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I like it a lot, but I also don’t know how well I would do being an out-of-towner, coming in and trying to convince locals to open up their houses and businesses to Lovemark. I think I did so well with this one because everyone here trusts me.”

“That makes sense,” Jen says. “But you are also very sweet and charismatic. I could see you kicking ass outside of Port Snow doing something like this.”

“Maybe.” I lower my voice a little. “I just feel kind of lost right now, you know? I’m not sure where I belong, what I should be doing. I was going to school for event planning, but I dropped out, became a tour guide, and now I’m scouting locations for Lovemark. I don’t know; nothing really seems like it fits. I like this job a lot, but the more I think about it, the more I wonder, is this really what I want to do? Ugh, I shouldn’t be bothering you guys with this, especially on Thanksgiving. Forget I said anything.”

“Don’t be silly,” Ren says, placing her hand on my knee and scooting closer. “I know exactly what you mean. Before I came to Port Snow, I was looking to start a new chapter and leave the past behind. I was lost, unsure of myself, but so eager to have a fresh start.”

“That’s exactly where I am right now. But I have no idea what that start is.” My lip trembles, and I hold back the emotions that want to bubble up inside me. Crying at the Knightlys’ on Thanksgiving while two men snore five feet away seems like hitting rock bottom, or at least pretty close to it. “I haven’t had the best couple of months, and now that I’m trying to figure out this whole life thing, I have to do it in the same town as my ex-fiancé. It’s hard to leave the past behind when it practically smacks me in the face every day.”

Jen shoots me a sympathetic look. “I know we haven’t made it easy on you, constantly pushing you two together, but I can’t help but think you were made for each other.”

“He hurt me, Jen,” I say quietly.

“And every single one of us could have slaughtered him for it, but I think you need to understand one thing. He didn’t just lose his leg to that fire; he also lost his confidence, his sense of self. That confidence is only just starting to return, and I think it’s because of you.”

“But what about my confidence?” I shake my head. “I’m an empty shell, Jen. I have no idea what to do, where to begin.”

“Start with this new opportunity, explore it, and see where it takes you. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but I think you should give Rogan a chance. You never know what you might learn from each other.”

I scoff. “What could Rogan learn from me?”

“He can learn to appreciate the man he’s become,” Ren says. “I haven’t known him very long, but he’s always taciturn, always cutting himself off from people. But the moment you came along, I think my tongue dropped out of my mouth because he actually started acting a little more human and a little less like the town pariah.”

“You being back here has made him a new person; maybe Rogan can do the same for you. But you have to let him.” Jen takes my hand in hers. “Tell me this, do you feel more at home here, more comfortable in Port Snow, or out traveling the East Coast?”

That’s easy to answer. “More at home here. For the first time in a long time, something inside me feels right.” And that realization seems like a weight lifting off my chest. Nervously, I add, “But what if he hurts me again?”

“He won’t. He doesn’t have that kind of destructive streak anymore, and if he did, there are at least a half dozen people who will murder him in his sleep.”

I chuckle. “You being one of them?”

Jen nods as Ren raises her hand. “And me. But I think we would all fall behind Griffin.”

“She’s right. Griffin would be the first in line. But in all seriousness, in order to find yourself, you have to lower the wall and let people in.”

A loud snore pops out of my dad, startling him and Mr. Knightly awake. Both sitting forward, they turn toward each other, laugh, and then shake hands.

Sheesh, if only life were that easy.

Although . . . maybe it is. Maybe I’m overanalyzing. Maybe I just need to experience life as it comes.

Over in the dining room, I spot Rogan talking to his brothers. A grin pulls at the corner of his lips, his soulful eyes fixed on Brig, who is animatedly impersonating someone. He does seem different—happier, more content.

Just when I’m about to turn away, he locks eyes with me, and his smile grows even wider. Arm draped over the chair next to him, he casually winks and then turns back to his conversation, not even realizing he shot a wave of butterflies through my stomach with that little gesture.

Could I really give him a second chance?

Rogan: Snuck out without saying bye, huh? That’s cold, Harp.

Harper: I wanted to make sure my dad didn’t pass out on the way to the car. You know how he gets with turkey.

Rogan: Not a valid enough excuse. You owe me a goodbye.

Harper: You owe me a lot of things but you don’t see me keeping track.

Rogan: Well seems like that’s your fault, not mine.

Harper: I see that you haven’t lost your knack for being a smartass.

Rogan: No, kept that close to my heart.

Harper: Sounds about right.

Rogan: Are you in bed?

Harper: It’s eleven at night, what do you think?

Rogan: What are you wearing?

Harper: Not going to happen, no way, nice try.

Rogan: Why such a fuddy duddy?

Harper: Fine, what are you wearing?

Rogan: Nothing, your turn.

Harper: Since it’s twenty degrees out and the insulation in this old house isn’t great, I’m curled up in a fuzzy turtleneck, flannel pants, and thick socks.

Rogan: I’m going to take that as nothing but a thong.

Harper: You’re impossible.

Rogan: Are we still on for Monday?

Harper: What’s Monday?

Rogan: Did you really forget? You’re supposed to come to the manor. We switched the date, remember? It’s the last property on the list we need to go over and since I just finished renovations, I’m going to be very specific about how the space is used.

Harper: I know, just testing you.

Rogan: Trying to make me sweat?

Harper: Just a little. Did it work?

Rogan: No, remember, I’m naked.

Harper: I’m going now . . . GOOD NIGHT, Rogan. <— there, you happy?

Rogan: Barely satisfied. Would have been better with a hug. See you Monday, Harp.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

HARPER

Sophomore Year, Syracuse University

I take a deep breath and count to ten. Let him do it. Let him do it, Harper.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

After another failed and frustrating attempt, I step in, taking the tie from him. “Here, let me help.”

“I can do it,” he snaps, snagging the tie from me. “Just because I lost a part of my fucking leg doesn’t mean I need you to do everything for me.”

One more deep breath. Don’t let it get to you.

It’s been like this for the past seven months—Rogan constantly snapping at me, barely able to look me in the eyes, and hiding away from the world.

You always hear about the people who wish they could go back in time and change their decisions, the steps they took in life. I never believed in that. I always thought, good or bad, every decision you make is a lesson, a path to get you to where you’re going.

I don’t think that anymore.

Every damn day of my life, I wish I could go back in time and listen to Rogan, agree that we should stay home. If only I had listened, if I hadn’t pushed him, we wouldn’t be where we are now. I wouldn’t feel like, with every minute that passes, our love is slipping from my grasp.

And there is nothing I can do about it.