Unable to control my temper, I set Harper carefully to the side and stand from the couch. Hand flying through my hair, I pace back and forth across the living room.

Someone hit Harper; someone physically abused my girl.

And . . . I’d fucked her up so much that she was drawn to this asshole, thinking he could comfort her.

I drove her to him. If it wasn’t for me and my selfish, self-destructive tendencies, she never would have felt like she needed to seek comfort from someone else. She never would have traveled up and down the East Coast, looking for a piece of me in someone else.

“Fuck!” I scream, my pace picking up, unable to calm down. There is no way, not with pure rage propelling my movements. “He fucking hit you. How bad?”

I turn on her, and that’s when I see it: she’s scared. Shaking on the couch, knees drawn into her chest, she is physically scared . . . of me. I pause midstride and take her in. Pale, reactive, eyes drawn down. I’ve never seen her like this, ever. Harper is strong and confident, doesn’t put up with my shit. She’s always stood up not only for herself, but for others as well. She’s charming, addicting, outgoing. She doesn’t cower, she doesn’t retreat, which means one thing. My reaction is pushing one of her buttons.

The tension in my shoulders shooting down to my clenching fists.

The pure anger and boom of my voice vibrating off the walls.

The strength in my stride, the pounding of my feet.

I’m causing her to remember . . . remember him. And that’s the last thing I want. I want to be the man who’s there for her, the man who takes care of her, and the man who shields her from the outside world. I can’t do that if I’m acting like a fiery brute. If I’m acting like him.

And that’s when I realize it . . . an epiphany in the middle of this mess.

I’m halfway down the pathway to losing my cool, falling down the same tunnel I’ve traveled far too many times. Instead of sitting back and listening to her, I’m reacting, I’m blaming, I’m creating an environment that isn’t healthy for anyone.

And for the first time in my life, I’m realizing it before anything escalates to an unsalvageable mess.

I’ve grown the fuck up.

The old me would have lost his cool, shot off with anger, and become self-destructive in the worst way. But instead, I realize my reaction; I catch it before I get out of control and break our love all over again.

I don’t ever want to see that look on her face again, the look of total heartbreak and fear. That’s the mask she’s wearing right now, wincing and curling up on herself, waiting for the blow, for me to push her away, to blame myself for everything and run, because . . . she deserves more.

And she does, she deserves so much more, but not from someone else. She deserves more from me, the man she’s fallen for, the man who she’s proud of. It’s time I step up and be the undying love she’s asked me to be.

Because that’s what she needs: a loving, caring man, someone who will hold her hand during the bad times and cheer for her during the good.

It isn’t until your mind has matured . . .

On a deep breath, I carefully travel back to the couch, where I take her in my arms, cradling her head to my chest. Relief loosens her tense muscles as she sinks into me, using me as a shield against all her worries and fears. She cries on my shoulder, shuddering with each sob as I gently stroke her back, tamping down the anger boiling at the base of my spine and channeling that energy into loving my girl instead, showing her despite the horrific past she had to endure that she’s safe now. Safe with me.

Forever.

“You are so brave, Harper. So fucking brave for pulling yourself out of that situation. I’m proud of you. So damn proud.”

Another sob cracks past her beautiful lips as she buries her head deeper into my shirt.

“I let it go on too long.”

“Don’t do that,” I say, gripping the back of her head. “Don’t blame yourself for a situation that was emotionally out of your control.”

“But—”

“Doesn’t matter how long it took you to step away. All that matters is that you chose to leave; you still made the change, a decision that must have been incredibly hard to make.” I kiss the side of her head, mentally swearing to find out who this dickhole Brandon is and bring him to justice. “Did you at least press charges?”

She nods against my shoulder. “Yes, I did.”

“Good girl. In that situation, that’s the best thing you could have done. I’m sure he’ll be brought to trial, and when he is, I’ll be there by your side, waiting to make sure he doesn’t get away with what he did. He will pay for this. No one hurts my girl.”

Lifting her head, she studies me for a second. “I thought . . . I thought that maybe you would take this a lot harder. Maybe even leave me . . . like you did last time.”

I don’t blame her for thinking that, because that was my initial reaction the moment she told me about Brandon.

“Harper.” I lift her head and stroke her cheek with my thumb. “I told you, I’m not going anywhere. Whatever trials and tribulations we face, we’re facing them together.” I press my lips together, searching for the right words. “Do I feel murderous about what happened to you? Yeah, of course, but I’ll work through that. But this isn’t about me. What matters is that I’m here for you and that you’re okay.” I search her face. “You’re okay, right?”

She nods, tears falling down her cheeks. “I’m okay now. But that doesn’t mean I don’t have my days where I remember. Where I remember everything he ever said to me, the way he touched me, the evil look in his eyes. Those memories are branded in me but hopefully will disappear with time. It’s going to take time.” She lowers her head, but I lift her chin with my finger.

“I have all the time in the world, Harper. And when you’re ready, I want to make sure we bring justice to Brandon, make him pay for everything he put you through. I’ll hire the best lawyers. This man isn’t getting away with anything.”

“You would do that?”

My features soften. “I would do anything for you, Harper.”

She falls into my embrace, squeezing me tighter. “I love you, Rogan, so much.” She sniffles and pulls away, wiping a stray tear as a shy smile passes over her face. “I was actually talking to my dad this morning about you.”

“Yeah?” I wipe away another tear. “What were you saying? All good things, I hope.”

She nods. “All great things, and how everything feels so right.”

“It does,” I say, letting the anger melt away and focusing on just my girl. “Everything feels like it’s in place.”

“And even though I don’t have a set path for my career, I still feel at peace right here, in your arms. Do you know what he said?”

“What did he say?”

“He told me it’s because I’ve always known who I am in spirit. I was just searching for my home . . . and you’re my home, Rogan, my person, and no matter what, I’ll always belong to you.”

Fuck. She couldn’t have said it any better.

She’ll always belong to me.

My forever girl.

“And I will always belong to you, Harper.” I lean in to press my lips against hers, but she stops me.

“That’s why I turned down the Lovemark job.”

I pause, confused. “What Lovemark job?”

“They offered me one today, to be a permanent scout for them. I would fly all over the country, searching out filming locations. It’s a dream job.”

“But you turned it down? Why? It really is the dream job. You’ve excelled working with them on this recent project. You know small towns so well. You understand locations and settings. You could direct someone up and down the East Coast with your eyes closed. This is the perfect opportunity, Harper. And if it’s me you’re worried about, don’t worry. I will be by your side no matter what.”

Her hand glides up my cheek. “I love you so much, Rogan.” She presses a chaste kiss across my waiting lips. “In all honesty, it might have been fun a few years ago when I needed the distraction, and yes, I’ve had fun working on this movie, but it’s not really what I want in life. I told them I would be their official New England liaison, but otherwise, I belong here in Port Snow with family and friends . . . with you.”

“But what are you going to do?”

“I’ve done some strong self-examining since I’ve been here, and I realized I’ve been cautious with my decision-making, never really committing to anything since college, and it’s because I don’t want to make another mistake.”

“What are you talking about?”

“That night, Rogan, the one of the accident, I forced you to go—”