More Than Anything (Broken Pieces #1)(57)

“Jesus,” Harris muttered. “I’m so—”

“No. This is my apology, Harris. Don’t take it from me. I just wanted you to understand the place that indictment came from.” He squeezed the nape of his neck and darted a self-conscious glance around the nearly empty room. “I was jealous of the relationship you had with my wife, and while I knew it was strictly platonic, it was still more meaningful than the one I had with her. That was my fault, not yours. And I’m so sorry, so goddamned sorry. That accusation, those words, will always be out there now. I can’t take them back . . . but I can tell you that I regret them so damned much.”

“Greyson . . .”

Harris’s words were trailing off when Libby exited the office and made a beeline for their table. She looked pale and upset and avoided Harris’s gaze as she focused on Greyson.

“Uh, Greyson. About tonight.” Greyson stood up abruptly, panic flaring in his eyes as he obviously feared she was going to cancel their arrangement. “I need you to come here. I’d prefer to have Clara close by.”

“You’re not canceling?” Greyson asked, heaving a relieved breath, and Libby’s pretty brow furrowed.

“No. Just a change in venue, that’s all.”

Greyson gave her a grateful smile. “No problem. I’ll be here just before six.” He sat back down.

“Thank you.” She turned away from the table, still avoiding Harris’s eyes, and his stomach sank.

She knew. After all these years, Tina had finally told her about the bet.

“Where’s Tina?” he asked quietly, and her eyes darted to his face before flitting away again. As if it hurt her to look at him.

“Leave her alone,” Libby said, her voice cold. “She needs a moment.”

“Libby . . . ,” he began miserably, and she finally looked at him. Her beautiful eyes were alive with anger, sadness, disappointment, and, most crushing of all, absolute revulsion.

“Don’t talk to me right now, Harris,” she said. Her voice strained. “I can’t deal with you right now.”

She turned and swept back into the kitchen.

“Shit.” Harris’s eyes tracked to the back, where the office door was hidden from view. He willed Tina to step out—he wanted to see for himself if she was okay. A long moment passed without any sign that she would be exiting the office, and he’d placed his palms flat on the table, intending to push himself up, when Greyson’s quiet voice intruded.

“No.”

“But . . .” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t find the words to justify going into that office and checking on her. He had no right. He kept his anguished gaze focused in the direction of her office for another minute before shaking his head and tossing a few bills on the table.

“I’m walking back to the house,” he murmured, dropping his car keys onto the heap of bills. “I’ll see you later.”

He strode out before Greyson could say a word of protest.

It was a blustery day, and as he walked up Main Road toward his ramshackle rented property, he tried hard not to think of Tina. The sweet, trusting girl she had been and the unhappy, wary woman she had become. He knew she blamed him for everything that had gone wrong in her life . . . and while he acknowledged the role he had played, like he had told her before, he couldn’t be held responsible for ten years of bad decisions. Tina had to accept culpability for her own choices. Naturally, it was convenient to blame Harris for every awful thing that had ever happened to her, but they’d had sex, once, ten years ago. And maybe the immediate fallout had been harsh and painful, but he didn’t understand how it could have shaped the rest of her life.

She had disappeared for a while after that night, at first actively avoiding him by not coming out with her family when they attended Chapman family functions, and not even visiting Libby. Then she’d gone away to Scotland for her gap year.

He’d followed her on social media, but she hadn’t posted any pictures—strange for someone who was enjoying her first independent trip abroad. He’d questioned Libby about Tina’s whereabouts, and she had been equally clueless. Saying she only received the occasional text message. He had even tried to ask Smith about her, but the other guy had shrugged off his questions. The lack of information had been bizarre, but, while he’d had the resources, Harris had known it wasn’t his place to pry and had left her alone, focusing on his own life and studies instead. He’d moved on, met other women, traveled, and enjoyed his early twenties with reckless abandon.

When Tina had returned from her mysterious gap year, Harris had been shocked by the change in her the first time he saw her. Such haunting sadness in her eyes—she’d lost some weight and had a fragile appearance. She didn’t speak unless spoken to and didn’t make eye contact with anyone.

Harris had tried to talk with her, but she made it very plain she wasn’t interested in anything he had to say to her.

She’d started college, her aim to go into medicine, then dropped out less than a year later. She tried random jobs, none of which stuck, and always seemed aimless and disinterested in doing much with her life. Her family had, at first, made excuses for her, but as the months and then years wore on, they made it quite clear that they were disappointed in her. And soon every time any of them referred to her in conversation, it was generally to say something negative. She had become the family failure, and they had no qualms about disassociating themselves from her bad decisions.