Page 113 of The Beekeeper

“Harper.” I stopped in the hallway, seeing her sitting at the dining table and staring blankly at her phone. “Shit.” She’d clearly seen everything already. I couldn’t even prepare her. “Hey,” I grunted and strode over, gently pulling her cell from her hands.

Only then did her head lift, and I saw the tears on her cheeks, the droplets like arrows sinking right into my chest.

“I’m sorry,” I rasped and pulled up another chair. “I didn’t know anyone—fuck, I’m so sorry, Harper.”

Jarred from her trance, she shook her head and said thickly, “It’s not your fault. We—I knew the risks. I didn’t know anyone was there either.”

“I know, but I shouldn’t—” I stopped myself, biting into my tongue so hard I tasted blood. “Wade’s going to see what he can do about getting the image removed.”

She nodded but said nothing, too smart to think it was going to do much good now.

“It’s fine—it’ll be okay,” she said, and I couldn’t tell if she was talking to herself or me. “I’ve certainly survived worse online scrutiny.”

She dried her cheeks with the end of her sleeves and flashed me a quick and clearly forced smile. Goddamn this woman was so brave, and that was what it was, wasn’t it? Brave to be optimistic, to be hopeful, in the face of pain and doubt.

Her lashes fluttered quickly, clearing her eyes as they found mine. The color in her cheeks darkened just a little, and she asked, “So, what happens now?”

Silence stretched through the room like honey, thick and raw and sticky. What did happen now? Did I double down? Did we just go public? Did we figure out a way to quash all the negativity together? And where did that lead?

Right back here, a small voice inside my head whispered. The same voice that had guided me all these years.

This was my life. The cameras. The publicity. The speculation. The lies. Don’t make her walk through it for nothing. Again, Wade’s words rattled around my head like marbles I couldn’t catch. There was no ‘through it’ for me. No other side to the rumors and the relentless pursuit for entertainment. There was only ever in it. I could protect Paisley because she was a child, but Harper…

She didn’t deserve this.

She didn’t deserve all the baggage that came with me.

My heart rioted in my chest as I forced myself to sit back—to sit straighter. I clenched my teeth, fighting to reel the words up from my chest that I knew I had to say, no matter how hard my heart tried to hold them back.

“You didn’t sign up for this, Harper,” I said, my eyes flicking to where the picture was still lit up on her phone.

“Actually, I did,” she countered, surprising me. “I signed up the second I let you and Paisley through my front door. I knew who you were. I knew what came with you, and I chose it. All of it—the cameras, the stories, the scrutiny. I signed up for you.” Her voice dropped, and that was worse than if she’d shouted. “You’ll never be able to control what people say about you. Or me. All you can control is how you choose to live your own life.”

A war raged between my head and my heart. I wanted her, but she didn’t know what she was saying. Not really. Not once this became a regular part of her life.

How many times could someone like her, someone who couldn’t help but wear her damn heart on her sleeve, get torn apart by strangers on the internet and keep coming out okay? It was like repeated concussions, altering your reality, affecting your sanity, and eventually, after one too many, the damage was irreversible.

“I’m sorry, Harper.” I let out a slow breath like it was the last exhale my heart would ever taste.

A tear slipped free and she let it go.

“I’m not afraid of them, Blaze. I’d rather they print a thousand lies about something true than spend my life safe and without you in it. The only thing I’m afraid of is watching you talk yourself out of this because you can’t believe you’re allowed to keep it.”

I said nothing. Because she was right, and because I was going to do it anyway. My track record meant there was only one way this would inevitably end. Better on these terms than complete disaster.

“There’s a fine line between bravery and foolishness,” I said. And I couldn’t risk the consequences of my foolishness any longer. “I think it’s time to end our…contract.” I couldn’t even bear to say relationship.

I watched—waited for her response, my hand braced on the table, the other locked in a fist resting on my thigh. I waited for her to protest. To argue again. To give me another reason to change my mind—one more and it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back.

“Okay.”

I tipped back, unsure what shocked me more, that she just…accepted the end of us or that her acceptance felt like a knife right through my heart.

“Okay,” I repeated, almost in a stupor.

She didn’t say it again. Didn’t argue. Didn’t offer up one more reason. She’d laid the whole truth between us, and when I hadn’t picked it up, a stillness came over her. Like the calm after a storm. And it gutted me to realize why: Harper would burn down the world for the people she loved and never once ask them to strike a single match for her. Never once beg me to stay.

She stood up suddenly, her legs bumping into mine, and grabbed her phone off the table.