Page 96 of Jack
“He’s probably right,” Stein said, a little more calmly.
Thank you, bros.
“But mostly because it’s rehearsal night, and Boo is going to start wondering where you are.”
She stared at Stein. “I don’t have to be at the rehearsal for eight hours.”
“Don’t forget dance lessons,” Conrad said.
“What is wrong with you people? My friend was with a guy who was shot and a man who was murdered, and you want me to learn how to dirty dance? Wow.” She held out her hand. “Keys, please.”
Conrad dug them out, and as he did, Jack wanted to grab them from his hand because?—
“Thank you.” She swiped them from him. “I’ll do my own investigation.”
“Harper!” Jack started after her. Grabbed her arm. She whirled around, a terrible glint in her eyes. The keys fell from her hand. Stein picked them up.
She reached for them, but he held them back.
“Seriously?” Her voice shook and she rounded on Jack. “I’m not a high-schooler anymore!”
“I know!” He ran his hand across his mouth, nearly shaking. “Don’t you think I know that? Sheesh—” He shook his head.Not now. “I very much, clearly know that you’re not a high-schooler.” He held up his hands and took a breath. “You don’t have to be a teenager to get in over your head.”
“And you’re here to make sure that doesn’t happen?—”
“Yes! Okay?” He dropped his voice low. “I’m just trying to?—”
“Protect me?”
He gave her a look that once upon a time might have shut her down. “Yes.”
“So you’re just going to send me home, like a child, likePigtails, while you and your brute squad?—”
“Hey—” Conrad said, but Stein put a hand out.
“—hunt down . . . who?Who,Jack? Because I’m the one who did the research, found the suspects, and downloaded the pictures.”
“Gimme your phone.”
“Not on your life.”
“Text them to me.”
She shook her head, her blue eyes hot, a little spitfire staring up at him.
He stood there, the wind around him, and tried to wrap his brain around the terrible, wretched urge to pull her to himself, to kiss her—and to show her exactly why she had to go home. Stay where he could find her.
I can’t lose you again.
The words entered his brain then, solidified, and he knew—justknew, like a blinding light that zinged through him—that he’d been running hard, just like she’d said.
Running from the crazy sense that they belonged together.
Denying it. But even as he looked at her, he saw them—a version of them that could be. Playing games in front of the hearth, maybe caretaking Rudolph House. Making dinner together . . .
He wanted something out there that he couldn’t put his hand around. And it started with Harper.
“I’ll take her home,” Conrad said. “Give me your keys.”