Page 108 of Unleashed
Time apart is going to suck.
But I think we won't have to worry about any of this soon. The distance. The back and forth. The countdown clock that starts the second she leaves. Because it's just gonna be me and her against the world again. The way it was always supposed to be.
I pull back. Press my forehead to hers. Her breath is warm against my mouth, her fingers curled into the front of my shirt.
"I love you, Goldie," I whisper.
"I love you, always," she says.
And that's all I need to know to die a happy man. Harper never stopped loving me.
My theory was right.
I'm alive because my soulmate never stopped loving me.
She kisses me one more time, and then she's grabbing her purse and opening the door. Night air rushes in, and I already miss the warmth.
She's halfway up the path when the front door opens, and her mom appears, arms wide. Harper walks straight into them, and I watch her shoulders drop. Watch the tension leave her body.
Her mom looks over Harper's shoulder and catches my eye through the windshield. I nod at her.
I still help her parents out with their ranch when they need it, especially during branding season.
Harper turns at the door and waves. That smile. The one that's just mine.
I wait until the door closes. Until she's inside, I sit in the quiet for a beat, engine ticking, the ghost of her still everywhere.
I pull out and head home. The house'll be too quiet. The bed'll be too empty.
Ah, fuck it. I’m going to sneak back in later. I ain’t doing two nights away from her. One is my limit.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Harper
Waking up with Ace wrapped around me was the best surprise. It made me not want to leave at all. Yet, somehow, I caught my flight. I got to Hudson's house.
I really need to speak to Emma once this dinner is done, because I feel like with all this going on, I’m leaving her in the dark, and she’s going to be worried.
The moment he opens the door to his grand mansion on the outskirts of LA, I hiss, "I'm not happy with this, Hudson." Because I want the record to reflect that I am here under protest.
"Well, happy to see you too, fiancée," he says, stepping aside with that infuriating half-smile that makes me want to put my fist through one of his walls.
I scowl at him as I brush past, tossing my overnight bag onto the marble floor.
"Cool place," I say, completely unamused.
It's a bachelor pad. Engineered from the ground up for parties, or orgies, most likely. Open-plan everything. A bar that could service a nightclub. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the hills. And we're supposed to host his parents for a sit-downdinner here. In a house that screams, I have never once cooked a meal for a woman I respect.
"Want a tour?" he asks, keeping a careful distance. He's learning.
"Not really. Just toss my bag in the room I'm staying in. I'll be gone before sunrise."
His jaw twitches. "My parents might notice we aren't sharing a room. They’re staying here too."
I laugh. It's not a kind laugh. "Tell them I don't believe in sex before marriage. Or say we’re being respectful. You're a clever man, Hudson. Lie." I arch a brow. "You're also very good at that."
There is no way in hell I'm sharing a room with him. Not tonight. Not ever. The engagement ring on my finger weighs about ten tons, and every time the light catches it, I feel like a fraud.
