I drive to his house in record time and make my way through the three-story home, bypassing looks from his former teammates. When I make it to his bedroom, I swing the door open and gasp at the sight in front of me.

His room is completely empty. Bedding, computer, clothes, shoes—everything is gone. I take a step forward, taking in the vacant bedroom . . . well, almost vacant. He’s left a few things behind, my heart breaking piece by piece as I take them in.

Pictures of the two of us, framed, rest on his dresser, untouched. Next to them is a note. I quickly pick it up and struggle to read it through tear-filled eyes.

If she comes by, tell her again it’s over.

This has to be some kind of sick prank, right? There’s no way the boy who I fell in love with is treating me with such hatred, such cruelty.

A creak in the floorboards has me spinning around, hoping to find Rogan. But instead there’s just Hemmy, standing at the door.

“Wh-where did he go?” I ask, swallowing hard.

“Dropped out. He’s gone.”

“He what?” A sob escapes me. “He dropped out? Why?”

Hemmy shrugs. “He didn’t give me a detailed answer, just said he needed to get the hell out of here. Told me to tell you it’s over if you stopped by.” He shrugs. “That’s all I got.”

“Why didn’t you stop him?”

“He made up his mind. There was no changing it. He’s a different man, Harper. I think it’s time you realized that and moved on.”

But how could I possibly move on when Rogan just took my heart and soul with him?

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

ROGAN

“Fucking hell,” I mutter, taking the steps up to the manor slowly. Thankfully, I chose to meet Harper here rather than drive together. There’s no way I want her to see me in this much pain. The bitter-cold weather always seems to affect me. Today it’s sending a razor-sharp pain down my bad leg, making it feel like my foot is throbbing in pure agony. Seven years later and I still get phantom pains, though they’re not nearly as intense as they used to be.

One more step. I grin and bear it, making my way into the house, where I can warm up. Hopefully by the time I defrost, I’ll be able to walk up the stairs without grimacing. The last thing I want is to show any kind of weakness around Harper. I want her to know that I live a normal life, a different life than the one that pushed her away.

Once inside, I quickly find a seat on the stairs and start rubbing the side of my thigh, massaging it up and down like the physical therapist taught me.

I have everything planned out for today. I made sure Gina set up the ballroom with a table and a lunch for Harper and me. I want this to go smoothly; I want this to be the day I tell her everything. I just need my leg to get it together.

I know, especially in hindsight, that my prosthetic never bothered Harper, but I can’t forget that last conversation in Syracuse, the ugly things I said to her, the cold-blooded way I treated her, as if she meant nothing to me, even though she meant everything. I know my leg has a direct correlation to that day, and I want to avoid it for as long as I can.

The distinct sound of a car door slamming echoes from outside, and I brace myself. Using the banister to help me up, I stand tall and step down into the entryway and open the door for her. Peeking out beneath her thick coat is a dark-green dress and black leggings with black boots. She smiles shyly up at me and greets me with a warm press of her hand to my arm.

“Oh, thank God it’s warm in here, unlike back in high school.” She removes her jacket and gives me a once-over. “Did you wear that shirt to distract me?”

I glance down at my navy-blue dress shirt—the one I know makes my eyes stand out. “This old thing? Nah, just grabbed it from the closet.”

“Sure.” She shakes her head, skeptical.

I take her jacket and can’t help but glance over her left hand; her ring finger looks so empty. The image of her ashen face when I asked for it back flashes through my mind, sending a stab of pain through my chest.

Why are you being so cruel?

Her question followed me all the way back to Port Snow. My only answer: because I hated myself so goddamn much that I wanted her to hate me too.

“It’s so warm in here.” She rubs her hands together and looks up at the ceilings. “Do you have the fireplace working?”

I nod and drape her jacket over the banister. “The fireplace was one of the first projects I tackled. I wanted to make sure it could be fully functioning.”

In awe, she studies the entryway, occasionally turning to take everything in. “I still can’t believe you resurrected this house and breathed life into it again. I never thought it would be possible, but you did it.”

Taking a chance, I step up and grasp her hand. For a brief moment, she studies our connection and then looks up at me, confusion in her eyes. Now or never, man.

“I know we’re here for business, but I really need to talk to you first.” I shift, my hip hitching. I try to hold back the wince, but she catches it. She always did.

“Are you okay?” She glances down and then back up at me.

I squeeze her hand. “The cold gets me sometimes. I’ll be okay.” If I had any doubts about whether I hurt her back in college, today they are confirmed. The look of pure shock that crosses her face at the casual mention of my leg . . . well, that says it all.

There’s no denying it; I was horrible to her. Beyond horrible. If I ever want to earn back her love and trust, I need to explain.

And if Brig finds out I didn’t spend a good enough time groveling to win back Harper’s affections, he’ll never let me live it down.

“Will you come with me?” With one last look at my leg, she nods. Her hand still in mine, I take her to the other side of the house, the den.

I push the door open, revealing the room, its walls painted a deep green, with the white molding creating a stark contrast. The same blond hardwood floors travel into the den, right up to the beautifully large window seat that overlooks the side of the house that is encased by snow-covered ponderosa pines.

“Oh, wow. Rogan, this room is gorgeous. The color is amazing.”

“It’s the only room in the house with color on the walls.”

“Why?”

It’s time I grew up. It’s time I stopped being the self-destructive asshat I once was and start being mature. Take responsibility for how I treated the girl I love and cure this godforsaken curse of broken love . . .

Not answering, I bring her over to the window seat, and we both sit down. This is going to be hard, but it needs to be done. I fold my hands and rest them between my legs.

With a deep breath, I look Harper in the eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I said to you back in college.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about our past relationship.”

“We need to, because I want more from you, Harper. I want all of you. I want your friendship, and I want your love. It’s taken me seven years to pull my head out of my ass, every day thinking about how I hurt you. Every day I’ve lived an ache greater than any pain in my leg, an ache so deep that it flows through my marrow. I lost you, pushed you away, and it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

Tears well up in her eyes as she turns away, but I stop her. She needs to look me in the eyes; I want to feel all her sadness, and I need her to see my sincerity and regret. “I don’t know if I can take this, Rogan.”

“I know. Believe me—I’ve spent so many sleepless nights wondering if I should just leave you alone or if I should try to win you back . . .” I take her hand and thread our fingers together. She doesn’t pull away, so I take that as a good sign. “That night, the night of the banquet, I was in a shitty headspace. Everything seemed like it was falling apart, and I couldn’t salvage the wreckage. I was going to a banquet for a team I didn’t play on anymore. It was humiliating. All my emotions started to boil to the point that I couldn’t breathe, and no matter what you did, Harper, there was no way you could have helped me. I had to remove myself from the situation, from Syracuse, and I had to do it without you, because . . .” I pause, pushing my hand through my hair. “I promised you so much more. I’d promised you a secure, happy life. I’d promised to be your best friend, your lover until the day we died, and I suddenly couldn’t give you any of that.”

“Do you realize all I wanted was your love?”

“At the time, I didn’t. I couldn’t. All I could think about was how I let you down, how you were going to have to take care of me for the rest of my life. I didn’t want you to sink with me. You deserved more, so I pushed you away. I acted like an ugly coward and said some of the most unspeakable things I could muster so there was no way you would ever want to see me again.”