Need You for Mine (Heroes of St. Helena)(80)

“So you didn’t buy a pregnancy test at the pharmacy?” Roman asked skeptically, as if his checkout-counter intel was solid. The problem was, in St. Helena it usually was.

“I bought three.”

Shit. Adam felt everything bottom out. He was free-falling—out of control, with no parachute, and too many strings wrapped around him to breathe.

“No need to panic, they weren’t for me. They were for, uh, a friend,” she said, maintaining eye contact. One of the things he’d seen on her cute little Allure List. Only right now she didn’t look cute. She looked crushed, and he was the cause.

“How much did you hear?” Adam asked.

“Enough.”

Right. He already knew that. The look of utter humiliation on her face said she’d heard everything she needed to.

But instead of crying or ripping him a new one, like any other woman would have done, she plastered a sweet smile on her face that made everything he’d said, every bonehead decision he’d made, that much more real. And painful. Because even when Harper received a direct shot to the chest, she still managed to look after everyone around her.

“Enough to know that whatever position you give Adam he will rise to,” she said to Roman. “He’s a great firefighter and an even better guy. He deserves this.”

She looked at him for a long, tense moment, the same fake smile in place that was breaking his f*cking heart, and Adam wondered what Harper deserved. Certainly not this. Not for it to be publicly announced that what they’d shared hadn’t been important or special. Because, Jesus, that made it sound as if she weren’t important or special.

When she so was.

“Enough to say that I am so excited for you,” she said, and he could hear the sincerity in her voice. It was right under the hurt and disillusionment. “I guess all that’s left to say is congrats.”

Eyes on Harper, Adam asked Roman, “Could you give us a minute?”



“That’s okay,” Harper said, the panic tightening around her neck.

She didn’t want to be alone with Adam. Because in one minute she would be doing the only thing that could possibly top her most humiliating moment. Bawling her eyes out over discovering her pretend relationship had been pretend.

But Roman was already nodding and walking away, which meant she needed to dig deep and tap into all of those acting skills her mother had tried to instill in her.

“I really am happy for you.” He went to speak, so she shoved the banana in his hand. “Hurry before it melts. Gotta go.”

“Harper.” His voice willed her to stay, but the pity she knew was on his face had her legs moving. She made it three steps when she felt a warm hand gently lock around her wrist, halting her escape.

“What you heard . . .” he began, and to his credit he did seem genuinely upset that he’d hurt her. “It came out wrong. You are special and—”

“Don’t.” Harper spun around, the anger from a lifetime of rejection building up inside of her. “You have never lied to me, so let’s not start now.”

His face fell at her harsh tone. “I’m not lying. You are special and sweet.”

“And your friend?”

“Yes.” He said it as if it weren’t shattering her heart. Erasing everything that had happened in the past few weeks.

“Then we could have left it at that,” she said, her voice cracking. “I was fine with friends. Fine with naked friends. You were the one who made me believe it was more.”

“It is more.” Adam reached out to touch her face, but she backed away before he could. She would crumple otherwise. She could feel it. Her stomach was already chilled and a sharp stabbing sensation was forming behind her ribs.

“How much more?” She needed to know, because she wasn’t going to let him put this on her inability to read signals. “Because you said you’d wake up just to catch a glimpse of me, that I was your sunrise.”

She stopped and felt a hysterical laugh build up. “Oh my God, they were lines. That’s what you say to someone at a bar, and I thought it was charming.” She placed a hand on her mouth to keep the sob from escaping. It didn’t help. “I thought your pickup lines were charming. How stupid is that?”

“They weren’t lines, Harper.” But she wasn’t listening.

“You charmed me. Made me feel sexy and beautiful and like I was special.”

“You are. God, you are.”

“I don’t feel very special right now. I feel stupid.” Just like she had when she’d discovered Rodney liked her friend, and Curtis didn’t listen to Ricky Martin for his music, and Clay wanted to date a Mom-bot.

Only this was worse. This wasn’t humiliation—it was devastation. Something she hadn’t felt since she’d learned her mom had been only two towns over and hadn’t come to visit. Something she’d gone out of her way to avoid ever feeling again.

And she’d done a damn fine job until Adam charmed his way in, and now he’d blown a hole through her chest to get out.

“You told me you weren’t a sure bet, that you didn’t do long-term, and I listened,” she said, and that was when the first tear broke. “But then you said mine, and I believed that too. Believed it so much that I stopped believing all of the rest, stopped listening to that voice inside of me telling me that this was too good, that you didn’t mean it, that you couldn’t love curls. I believed you to the point that I let myself become yours. Heart and soul, Adam.”