To the Stars (Thatch #2)(24)

My stare dropped to the floor, and my head shook slowly, but not in denial. “Seeing her today . . . it brought back everything. I remember how it felt to be near her, to talk to her, just to have her—have her be mine. There’s no way to think that I was a game after being reminded how all that felt.”

None of us said anything for a few tense moments as Grey and I stared each other down. When Grey realized I wasn’t going to say anything else, a hint of sadness fell on her face and she said, “This is dangerous, Knox. She’s married.” She emphasized the last word, as if trying to make me understand the fact. As if I hadn’t already thought a hundred times today about what the rings on Harlow’s finger meant.

“She’s broken, Grey. I could see it, I could see how unhappy she is no matter how hard she tried to hide it.” Grey opened her mouth, a mix of irritation and doubt on her face, but I kept talking. “No, before you say anything, that’s not something I tricked myself into seeing. I saw her as soon as I walked into the coffee shop, and couldn’t stop staring at the girl who looked equally beautiful and dead.”

“Knox,” Grey whispered.

“She’s so broken I didn’t even realize it was Harlow until I was about to walk past her.”

“Knox,” she said a little harder, and grabbed my arm. “Even if she is, you have to understand that it is no longer your place to try to fix her.”

I looked to where Jagger was still sitting on the bed, silent as ever as he observed and thought, and gestured toward him. “You guys have to understand. I know you understand.”

“No, we don’t. What you have to understand is that she’s married and you need to step back,” Grey bit out, and without another word, she walked out of the room

Jagger’s head had turned in the direction Grey left, but he wasn’t looking toward the door; his eyes were far away. I was about to beg him for a different response than what his wife had given me, just to feel like I wasn’t the worst kind of bastard for again wanting someone I couldn’t have, but the slow shake of his head had me biting back any plea. “It was different—Grey and me,” he said. “We were both grieving a death, and I never once told Grey how I felt about her, or pushed any kind of relationship on her. So when I helped her, when I was there for her every day, it was only as her best friend—not as the guy who had loved her for years.”

“You can’t tell me there wasn’t any part of you that was doing that because you were in love with her.”

“I didn’t say that. I love Grey, always have, and everything I’ve done has been because I love her. But, for the first nine years of loving her, she thought we were only best friends. What I’m saying is that she never saw that side of me until two years after Ben died, and as you know, she wasn’t supposed to find out when she did. If she had known that I loved her before, I wouldn’t have been able to help her the way I did; I wouldn’t have been able to be there for her. Harlow knows how you feel, or felt; you can’t just go in there wanting to help her for any reason other than that you love her. Everything you did for Harlow since you were eighteen was because you were in love with her, and she knew it. Do you see the difference?”

I ground my teeth and took a deep breath in, but didn’t respond. I did see the difference, and I also knew that he and Grey were right. That didn’t mean I wanted to agree with them.

“Besides, Harlow is unhappy in her marriage, according to you. Like Grey said, those are her own issues that she needs to deal with. And with your history, she can’t do that with you interfering. I know what she meant to you—trust me, I do—and I know you just found her again, but Grey’s right . . . you need to step back.”

I nodded, but again didn’t respond. There was no way for them to understand what I had seen in Harlow today. It was more than her being unhappy. I wanted to tell Jagger how Harlow had flinched when I’d tried to stop her from leaving, how when I said she looked dead, I actually meant she looked like she was dying, and seemed terrified that someone would see us talking. But I knew he would think I was reaching, and I knew in the disappointed way Grey had looked at me before she’d left that she had already made up her mind on this.

Fall 2009—Seattle

“KNOCK-KNOCK,” A FAMILIAR voice called out as the door to Deacon’s and my room opened.

“Hey!” we shouted as Grey walked in, followed by Graham. “Happy Birthday,” Deacon and I called out to Grey.

“One more year until you’re legal,” Deacon hinted, and she laughed. “Speaking of waiting until people are legal,” he continued, and shot a look in my direction.

Grey gave Deacon a weird look as she hugged me, but didn’t comment on what he’d said. “Can I just say that your frat house smells so weird?”

“Lies.”

“She found the body.”

“That’s the smell of victory,” we all spoke over each other.

Grey sighed and rolled her eyes. “Boys are gross. Anyway, what are we doing tonight?”

“What do you want to do?” Graham asked. “It’s your birthday, and it took me almost an hour to get Mom and Dad to let you come back with me.”

“Can we go to a club?” she asked with a hopeful expression.

“No,” the three of us answered at the same time.