To the Stars (Thatch #2)(25)

“There aren’t enough of us to protect you,” I said at the same time Deacon said, “Some guy is going to kidnap you.”

“Or because she’s only seventeen,” Graham interjected. “Anything else?”

“Um . . .” She looked around at us like she was hoping for suggestions. It was obvious that she’d been banking on us sneaking her into a club.

My phone rang, and a smile tugged at my lips when I glanced down to see Harlow’s name across my screen. It had only been a few days since I’d seen her at the coffee shop, but it was physically draining to keep myself from going to her now. We’d planned for me to somehow get away from Deacon tonight so I could go see her, but then I’d found out that Graham was bringing Grey back here. I’d called Harlow earlier to tell her, but she hadn’t answered. I went to tap on the screen, but suddenly my phone was ripped from my hands.

“Let me guess . . .” Graham began. “Yup! Little Miss Illegal, herself.”

“The f*ck. Give me my phone.” I lunged for it, but he tossed it over me.

I turned around in time to see Deacon put it up to his ear. “Hello, child . . . Nope, wrong friend . . . Yeah, he’s gonna be a bit busy tonight, if you get where I’m going with that. I guess you’ll just have to find something to do with people your age . . . Oooh, testy.” He looked at the screen and shrugged. “She hung up.”

I hadn’t tried to stop him because I knew there was no point; I also knew Harlow wouldn’t believe anything Deacon or Graham said. But with every word he said to her, my hands had curled tighter into fists, and my breathing had gotten rougher.

“Uh, what just happened?” Grey asked, but none of us said anything or looked at her.

“Give me my phone,” I demanded softly, and Deacon handed it over with a shit-eating grin.

“Anyone?” Grey tried again.

“Do you want to tell her? It’d be great to get her thoughts since they’re the same age,” Deacon taunted.

Nodding slowly, I switched my phone over so my dominant hand was free, and without giving Deacon a second to see what was coming, punched him as hard as I could.

“Oh my God!” Grey yelled as Graham shoved me back, and shouted, “What the f*ck, Knox?”

I didn’t say anything to anyone. I just walked out into the hall to call Harlow back.

“It always warms my heart to talk to one of those two,” she answered with a sigh.

I hung my head and rubbed the back of my neck. “Does it even make a difference when I say ‘I’m sorry’ anymore?”

Harlow laughed softly. “Of course it does, but you don’t need to. I know they’re just worried about you and being protective. After another year, they won’t have a reason to be.”

I held back a sigh. One more year—then all of this would be behind us.

“Hey, do you still think you’ll be able to come over tonight?”

“No, I’m sorry.” I rushed to tell her why when her disappointment drifted through the phone. “Graham called earlier to let us know he was bringing Grey back with him for her birthday. They just showed up before you called. I don’t know what we’re doing, but she’s like my sister and I never get to see her.”

“Well, good! I hope you have fun!”

I knew Harlow was genuinely happy for me. She was just that kind of person, and it was impossible to miss the smile in her voice. It didn’t lessen the way I physically ached to see her, though. “If it weren’t for her, I’d be with you tonight,” I assured her.

“I know, Knox,” she said. “I should let you get back to them. Tell Grey I said happy birthday.”

“I have a few minutes; tell me about your day.”

“You sure?”

Considering I’d just punched one of my best friends, and I was missing a night I’d planned on spending with Harlow? Yeah . . . I had a few minutes. “Of course, Low.”

“There’s not much to tell. Went to the movies with some friends earlier—it was okay. That’s where I was when you called, by the way. And then I came home to a beautiful bouquet of flowers.”

“Oh yeah?” I asked, and my lips twitched into a smile.

“Mm-hm. Some random person sent me a bouquet of poppies.”

“Some random person, huh? Should I be worried?”

I could hear the rustling of paper through the phone, and she sighed teasingly. “I mean, I don’t think so. The note only said ‘To the stars.’ I don’t know why you’d need to worry about that.”

“Yeah. Not threatened by that.” My smile grew. Every month, that note had reminded Harlow I was still waiting for her. Ever since that night earlier this year when I’d tried to convey to Harlow just how much I loved her, the notes on her monthly bouquet had changed. Now I never wanted that note to change.

“Thank you for my beautiful flowers,” she said so softly the words were almost lost in the random noises of the house. “And thank you for loving me the way you do.”

“Always, Low.” My voice deepened as I vowed each word to her.

“You have my heart, Knox Alexander,” she promised. “You have my heart, and in a year, I will finally have you.”

“You already do.”