It started Saturday morning when he showed up early at my house with doughnuts. He even ate one—I nearly dropped dead—and spent the morning chatting with my dad like he used to. I just sat back and watched them interact, excusing myself for a second to cry tears of happiness in the bathroom.

On Sunday, he brought my lunch during a very long day of filming, and even though we weren’t filming on one of his properties, production let him stay; he kept his hand in my jeans pocket the entire time, his cologne encircling me, distracting me more than I care to admit.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday, I went to his house for dinner, even if it was really late at night. We made love all over his cottage, not leaving one surface untouched. And he was right: the tiles in his shower are really nice . . . especially when my breasts were pushed up against them while he thrust into me.

Thursday I didn’t get to see him, thanks to a long day of production and meetings that didn’t give us a second to spare even a kiss. But this morning, when I woke up to the sweet sound of his voice calling me on the phone, I realized how effortlessly this man has reentered my life, and in only a week. It’s almost as if we haven’t skipped a beat since college, but it’s different too. This time I have a sense of myself.

And something else has changed, which I wasn’t expecting. Rogan is more demanding, sexier, and even hornier than ever before. The minute he gets me alone, his hands are all over my body, worshipping it. I’ve never felt more desired in my entire life.

“I’m happy, Dad.”

He takes a seat across from me at our little breakfast table. “I can see that. Are you happy because of a certain Knightly boy?”

I can’t contain my smile. “Maybe.”

He nods. “Well, I would say he’s feeling the same way. I saw him walking down Main Street yesterday with an extra pep in his step.”

“I love him, Dad.”

“I know, sweetie. That’s never changed.”

I meet his eyes. “I can’t contain how happy I am.”

“But . . .” He can hear it in my voice: the questioning.

Giving in, I slouch in my chair, knees bent up into my chest. “Everything feels so right, like . . . like I’ve found myself all over again.”

“What’s wrong with that? Isn’t that what you’ve been working on, why you came back to Port Snow?”

If only he knew the real reason.

“Sort of, but I just feel like a shell of a person.”

“What are you talking about?”

How can I explain this while sparing my dad the horrific details? I look up at him, into his kind, soulful eyes, and I realize there’s no sugarcoating it. If I truly want to move on from the past, I need to face it, and I need to be honest.

I take a deep breath. “I came back to Port Snow because . . .” I swallow hard. “Because I was in an abusive relationship with Brandon.”

My dad lifts from his seat for a second, pure anger etching across his face before he sits back down and gathers himself. Gripping his cup of coffee like a lifeline, he blows out a long breath. “What happened?”

Knowing the actual details might throw him into cardiac arrest, so I keep my explanation simple. “It was good at first, but over the last year, he started to get more and more angry, and . . . he started to take his anger out on me. It wasn’t until he physically hurt me that I took off. It sort of woke me up, made me realize I deserved more.”

“He hit you.”

I nod as the rest of my body freezes, petrified at how he’s going to react. “But please, I don’t want to get into it. It’s behind me now, and it’s the reason I came here—because I needed a new start. When I moved back, I swore I would spend the time finding myself, truly exploring the person I want to become.”

It takes my dad a few breaths before he calms down and looks up at me. “So why do you think you’re a shell of a woman?”

“Because . . .” I fiddle with a piece of lint on my knee. “I told myself I would never let another man dictate my future, that I would find my own path. I thought I was doing well with Lovemark, discovering a new career path, but even though I like the job, I don’t love it. I haven’t felt whole . . . not until Rogan came back into my life. Until we reconnected.” I shake my head. “I’m one of those girls who depends on a man for happiness.”

My dad’s chair slides under him; he rounds the table and scoots in next to me, taking my hand in his. “Have I ever told you why I’ve never remarried? Why I’ve only been on a handful of dates since your mother passed?”

“I’ve always wondered, but I never wanted to pressure you.”

His thumb passes over my knuckles. “When I met your mother back in high school, I knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she was my person, and no matter who else came along, she would forever be the other half of my soul. I like to believe that some people hold the beat of another human’s heart in theirs, and they spend their entire lives searching for the owner. People are put on this earth to love. You are one of those people, and Rogan is your other half. Without him, you’re not whole. Without you, he’s empty. You complete each other, and there is nothing wrong with basing your lives around the love you share.”

Tears prickle at my eyes as my lip trembles. “He’s . . . he’s all I want in life. Shouldn’t I want more?”

My dad shakes his head. “No, sweetie, because to you, he’s happiness, and that’s really what we should all strive for in life: happiness.” He wipes a stray tear from my cheek. “Coming back to Port Snow wasn’t about finding yourself; you’ve known who you are for a long time—a brilliant, beautiful woman with a heart of gold. You were searching for your home, and when it comes to you and me, our home isn’t a location or a building; it’s the place we hold in someone’s heart.” Another tear rolls down my cheek. “Rogan is your home. It might have taken you some time to realize that, but that’s what your time here has been about: finding your home in him.”

“You really think so?”

He pulls me into a hug. “I know so, sweetie. I see the same love I once shared with your mom between you two. It’s why I’ve never held any animosity toward him, because I understand the kind of love he carries in his heart for you. It consumes you, makes you do stupid things sometimes. He’s a good man, Harper. You both deserve each other.”

I throw my arms around him, pressing my face against his shoulder, my heart full, my soul content. “So you don’t think of me as a shell of a person?”

He shakes his head against me. “If anything, I think you’re so brave. You’ve found the key to your happiness. It takes people ages to figure it out—some people never realize what it is. You are brave and strong because that’s what it takes to love. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

With another squeeze, he presses a kiss to the top of my head and stands from his chair. He pulls his phone from his pocket and grows serious. “Now what’s the address of that Brandon bastard? I have something to give him.”

“You are not going to give Brandon ‘something.’” I use air quotes.

“Did I say ‘give him something’? I meant introduce his dick to my shotgun.”

“Oh my God.” I shake my head, though part of me considers it. Just knowing my dad scared the shit out of Brandon would be something. “Don’t worry, I reported him. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”

“I’d still like to involve my shotgun.”

I pat my dad’s cheek. “I know, Dad. I know.”

I start to walk away when he calls out, “You have to tell Rogan. He deserves to know. Start this relationship with a clean slate.”

I nod, though I’m already dreading the conversation. “I will, Dad, and . . . thank you.”

Rogan: What does your night look like? Please tell me it’s with me between your legs.

Harper: When did you get such a dirty mind?

Rogan: Years of pining after you. Now all I can think about is getting you naked and making you writhe beneath me.

Harper: You could write romance novels with that type of thought.

Rogan: Maybe I’ll ask Rylee if she needs some help.

Harper: I’m sure she gets unsolicited offers from lots of people.

Rogan: So, what are you doing tonight?

Harper: Was thinking about staying in, watching a movie, maybe having some lobster bisque.

Rogan: Orrrrrr . . . you can come to my house, strip down to nothing and sit on my lap.

Harper: Hmm, decisions, decisions.

Rogan: Come on, Harp, I’m dying over here since I didn’t see you yesterday, I’m desperate.

Harper: Now that you have me, you can’t get enough?

Rogan: Exactly. You bring the lobster bisque, I’ll bring the mood music.

Harper: Oh how can I pass up mood music?

Rogan: It’s very hard, almost impossible.

Harper: Fine, I’ll come over, but I do have to talk to you about something.

Rogan: Ehhh . . . that’s never a good thing. Do I need to be worried?

Harper: No. I just have an answer to a question you’ve been asking me since I got back to Port Snow.

“Harper, can we see you for a second?” Sally calls out from her corner of the Lobster Landing.