Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43239 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 216(@200wpm)___ 173(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
“Do you have the serial number for that patent?” a CEO cuts in, ignoring him.
“Hold up, Reggie,” another says. “She said it’s off by five figures?”
The presenter stammers. Pages shuffle. He tries to answer, but the room’s shifted.
No one’s looking at him anymore.
They’re all looking at me.
And this time, no one’s asking me to leave.
THIRTY-SIX
HARRISON
Conference, Day Five
The bar is dimly lit, just far enough from the conference center to be quiet but close enough that I’m still hoping she’ll text.
I’ve been nursing the same drink for an hour, phone face-up on the table like it’s holding its breath. Eliza hasn’t replied yet. I know she’s busy, but still.
I’m about to check the time again when Jackson’s name flashes across my screen.
“Hey,” I answer.
“You don’t know if it’s been successful yet,” he says without preamble.
“Sorry?”
“The Eliza project,” he clarifies. “I know you said not to count on results too early. But our website keeps crashing, and Janey says we’ve pulled ninety new reservations for the fall. So… you must’ve done something right. If this keeps up, I might finally be able to tell the IRS to kiss my ass.”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Glad to hear it.”
“I owe you big, man.”
“Actually…” I glance around the bar, lowering my voice. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about. Regarding your sister.”
I’ve rehearsed this conversation more times than I can count—scribbled down bullet points, reworded them, tossed entire note cards. I was hoping to strike the right balance between I really like Eliza and want to keep seeing her and please don’t beat my ass.
But Jackson speaks first.
“I’m just glad you’re loyal as hell,” he says. “Still a real friend, even after all these years.”
“I’m happy about that too.”
“And that you’re all business,” he adds. “Every guy I bring around Eliza eventually tries to come onto her. But not you.”
…Okay. So much for that speech.
He keeps going. “She’s emotionally immature, you know. Sweet as hell, but still figuring herself out. I hope she meets a good Southern guy one day. Somebody stable.”
“What about a good Manhattan guy?”
He laughs. “You mean a guy like you?”
He laughs even harder. “Nah. No offense, but I can’t picture you—or any guy like you—being faithful to anything for more than a month. And I’d never go for that. Ever.”
All taken.
“Anyway, I gotta run. I’m handling the phones today and I don’t want to miss a single reservation. Talk to you later.”
The call ends, and I stare at my screen for a moment before setting the phone down.
He’s not wrong.
I don’t regret crossing the line with Eliza—every second with her felt like the one thing in my life that wasn’t calculated—but I was dead wrong to think it could ever work.
Her life is in Tennessee. Mine’s here. And if Jackson ever found out what happened, I wouldn’t just lose a friend—I might end up as the lead suspect in a homicide report.
That wasn’t part of the deal.
And considering I owe Jackson my life—literally—I don’t have a choice.
I have to let her go.
THIRTY-SIX (B)
HARRISON
Several Years Ago
Rain taps steadily against the window, the late spring storm casting a gray haze over the campus. I stare outside in silence, watching an ant crawl slowly across the wet sill.
“Hey, man.” Jackson sets a cup of coffee and a paper bag on my desk. “Got you some lunch.”
I don’t respond.
“The landlord’s asking if you’re staying past graduation. What should I tell him?”
Still nothing. The ant is gone now, washed away or hidden.
“Almost every girl I’ve run into lately has asked where you’ve been,” he says, stepping closer. “You’ve gone from the main character on campus to a ghost.”
I nod. That’s all I can manage.
“Harrison?” He places a hand on the back of my chair and spins me around to face him. “I need you to talk to me today. It’s just me.”
His eyes flick down to the gun resting in my lap.
“You were just admiring it, right?” he asks softly. “Waiting to tell me what you think?”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. He steps forward, calmly takes it, and slips it into his back pocket.
“My life’s over,” I say finally, voice raw. “I’d appreciate it if you gave that back.”
“Well, seeing as you stole it from under my bed... tough shit.”
“I’m not going to ask again.”
“You threatening to fight me?” He raises a brow. “You think I won’t lay your rich ass out with one punch?”
I almost smile. Almost. But my chest is cracked open, and it takes too much effort to pretend anything else.
“Why do you think your life is over?”
“That’s what happens when you lose the person you made all your plans with,” I say, my throat tightening. “My brother’s gone.”
I swallow hard. “That’s why I went home a couple months ago. We were supposed to take the MCAT together, get licensed together… Doesn’t matter. None of it matters now.”