Page 79 of Jack
Harper’s throat tightened, but she swallowed it down, belted out the song, her voice rising and falling, even slowing. . .
“Never mind, I’ll find someone like you. . .”
She looked out into the crowd, the room a little hazy in the dim light. Her gaze cast to the door, where a group stood, and for a second, just a flash, she thought?—
No. Jack was with Oaken, at the bachelor party.
She closed her eyes and finished out the song. “Sometimes it lasts in love, but sometimes it hurts instead. . .”
The song finished, and she hung her head as the crowd erupted. Then she looked up, grinned, and held up her arm.
Met Boo’s eyes and tried not to cry.
She got off the stage then, and Boo walked up to her. “That was amazing.”
“And that was mean.”
Brontë’s eyes widened.Oh,Harper hadn’t meant—“Sorry. It’s just, I . . .”
“Don’t let him go. For you, it isn’t over. And I saw how Jack looked at you last night, when you were dancing. Maybe for him it isn’t over either. I made you sing that song so you wouldn’t have the same regrets. You have two days left. Don’t let him walk away unless you want him to.”
Then Boo pulled her into a hug.
Aw.Harper hugged her back.
Boo’s words clung to Harper all the way home, and even after she’d changed into her flannel pajamas and a sweatshirt, wool socks. She took off her makeup and couldn’t bear the empty bed beside her, so she went downstairs to the fire, taking her laptop with her.
She sat on the plush leather sofa and opened it up, trying to capture today’s events.
In the lush tranquility of the Serenity Spa, reality TV star Brontë Kingston and her closest friends celebrate the dawn of her new chapter with a day drenched in relaxation and laughter. The serene day unfolds with massages that untangle the knotted anticipation of Brontë’s upcoming union with country-music sensation Oaken Fox. As the spa’s natural light filters through gauzy curtains, Brontë’s mother, with eyes twinkling, gathers the group, imparting pearls of wisdom about marriage. “Just keep loving, keep trusting, even if you get burned.”
She stared at the blinking cursor. Then she saved the document and headed over to a different file.
The forbidden file.
A Thousand Summers
Aw, why not?She clicked it open.
Twelve chapters of her unfinished book about the spring break—now fictionalized into one tumultuous summer—that’d changed her life. Not a memoir, but fiction about unrequited love, a forbidden romance, and giving away your heart.
Although, she should probably change the names to protect the innocent. Or guilty.
She opened her last chapter.
The kiss.
The sun sets, casting a golden glow across the beach, turning the gentle waves into molten light. I stand close to Jack, my heart racing as I lose myself in the deep blue depths of his eyes, so like the ocean sprawling endlessly before us. His dark hair catches the breeze, a striking contrast against the sky’s softening hues. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, and now, enveloped in the twilight’s embrace, my fantasy edges toward reality.
Jack turns toward me, his expression hesitant yet filled with a longing that echoes my own. He leans in slowly, his lips meeting mine with a tender hesitance that sends shivers down my spine. The touch is a whisper, cautious and exploring. Yet as I respond, something shifts. The kiss deepens, fueled by my eager reply. His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer, the rhythm of the waves syncing with our burgeoning passion. My mind whirls—this is the man I’ve adored from afar, now kissing me with a fervor as vast as the sea itself. I'm overwhelmed by disbelief and joy, hardly able to grasp that this moment, so beautifully perfect, is truly mine.
She read it again, caught in the memory, the scent of the salty air, sand between her toes, cool to her bare feet. He had smelled slightly of sawdust, a little of coconut sunblock, and tasted of the sweet lemonade from dinner. He’d said yes to her invitation to meet her on the beach through a trail in the lush grasses, and as the sun set, they’d sat, talking. His fingers had combed the sand as he’d told her about law school, and she’d told him about her college classes at Gustavus—just two days a week—where she pursued her associate’s degree.
Yes, she could see now how he might have been confused about her age.
But maybe he’d just seen what he’d wanted to see—“I liked what I saw.”And she’d liked the desire in his eyes, and that, along with the scent of the night, the adventure of their spring-break trip, and even the magic of her crush, had all made her lean in.
She’d invited it, even if he’d reached for her, pulled her to himself.