66.0

66.0
HARPER

Bailey is right. I hate to admit it, but I know she's right. Even thinking about it makes me feel like the worst person in the world, but that doesn't make it any less true. Because if Skye being here is a coincidence... it's just... it's just the cruelest coincidence the universe could have thrown at me.

And if it isn’t? I don't know the simplest way to put it. It's just plain. Everything I've built, will come crashing down. 

It's this moment that Lyra chooses to shift Nyla against her as she makes a soft, sleepy noise. The sound pulls my attention away from my impending doom for a second. Nyla curls her fist into Lyra's shirt, her little face scrunching before relaxing again.

I smile at that. That she's content. But then Skye’s tear-filled face flashes through my mind again. Her words. 

'I missed you so much, Harper.'

I can't possibly turn a blind eye to my Skye crying. It's impossible. As it is, it's already hard that I was mean to her. But blocking her face from my mind? That would be cruel.

Bailey crosses her arms. “Look, I’m not saying she’s a spy or something dramatic,” she says. “I’m just saying… people change. Time passes. You disappeared. Your family probably went crazy looking for you.”

“They did,” I murmur before I can stop myself. I didn't keep tabs yeah, but I know they did. Damien, who has been leaning silently against the dining table, finally straightens. “Your family was looking for you?”

I shrug, pretending it’s nothing. “They probably still are.”

Lyra frowns. “Harper…”

“It doesn’t matter,” I cut in quickly. But it does matter. Because Skye was the one person who always knew everything about me. And Riley. I'm not even counting her as a friend at this point. Skye knew everything. My parents, my house, family secrets, favorite hiding spots... If anyone could trace me… It would be her.

I mean, if the whole world gave up, she wouldn't. A knot forms in my stomach.

Damien still has that look on his face. I can tell he's studying me, trying to figure me out. I'm a complicated one. He'll learn. He pushes away from the table and walks toward the window near the door. He glances outside casually.

“Is she still out there?” Lyra asks.

He nods once.

I try to appear nonchalant. I asked her to leave. I don't care that she's out there.

Bailey mutters, “Oh great.”

I step closer to the window before I can stop myself. And there she is. Skye. She’s sitting on the porch steps, elbows on her knees, face buried in her hands. Crying. Hard.

Fuck. I shouldn't have looked. I feel worse. How can I live with myself?

God. I used to know that cry. Back when she cried after breaking up with her ex-boyfriend. Back when she'd do something stupid and cry. My throat burns.

Lyra’s voice is gentle behind me. “Harper… she hasn’t left.”

“I can see that.”

“She doesn’t look like someone who came here to cause trouble.” Damien puts in.

I glance at him.

“People cry when they manipulate too,” Bailey says dryly.

Lyra glares at her again. “Bailey!”

“I’m just saying!”

I drag a hand down my face. Bailey might be right. TBut another truth sits even deeper in my chest. Skye would have followed me into hell if I asked. She would have fought the whole world for me. And what did I do?

“Harper,” Lyra says softly, “you’re shaking.”

I hadn’t noticed. But now that she says it, I see my hands trembling.

Bailey sighs. “Look, if she’s really your best friend… maybe you should just talk to her.”

“I tried that,” I mutter.

“No,” Bailey says. “You shut her down.”

Ouch.

Lyra gently pats Nyla’s back. “Do you want me to take Nyla upstairs?”

I hesitate. Then nod. "Yeah.”

Lyra smiles. “Okay.”

She disappears up the stairs with Nyla, leaving the rest of us standing in an awkward silence. Bailey nudges my arm.

“Go.”

I stare at the door.

"I wouldn't talk to me if I were her." I say.

Bailey raises an eyebrow. “From the way she was crying?” she says. “I don’t think she'll ignore you."

I swallow. Damien opens the door before I can lose my nerve. Cool evening air rushes inside. And suddenly there’s nothing between me and the girl sitting on the porch steps.

I walk out to her, bend slowly and put my arms around her. With shaky breaths, I rest my head on her shoulder.

"I'm sorry." I mutter.