Do I tell her I think she’s hot?
Do I tell her I wish there was more between us?
Do I just go for it and kiss her?
Inwardly I cringe. No way—the mere thought of doing that makes me so sweaty. And I know for a fact that I would mess it up. I’ve kissed a few girls before, but no one like Harper. Plus, there’s no way she would like me back, not when she sees me as a friend.
I swallow, tearing my gaze away from her chest. “Did your dad give you another allowance for clothes this year?”
“Yup.” Harper tilts her head to the side to look at me, a grin turning up her plump lips. “And he doubled it because I helped him a lot this summer with the lighthouse.” She playfully rubs her hands together. “I’m about to get a lot of pretty things.”
I chuckle. “Not too many pretty things. I don’t want you thinking you’re too fancy to hang out with the likes of me.” A flash of insecurity rolls through my belly. Harper’s one of those girls who’s beautiful no matter what she does; she could be with any guy at our school. The thought of losing her because I’m not cool enough is way too overwhelming.
She scoffs and tosses a piece of fudge at me. “Please, you’re a Knightly; your family practically owns the town. If anyone should be worried about being too fancy, it’s you.” She holds up her pointer finger. “Remember that blood pact we made? Always be friends no matter what?” I nod, getting lost in the golds and greens of her eyes. “So when you become a rich and famous pro football player, you can’t forget about me.”
“Never going to happen.” I link my pointer finger with hers. “You’re going to be crusty and gross and still hanging out with me.”
“Poking you with my cane until you stop annoying me.”
“Exactly.”
I might not know much. I’m the first to admit I’m a hormone-driven sixteen-year-old with two thoughts on my mind at all times—football and girls—but I do know that Harper is special and that no matter what comes our way, I’ll always make sure she’s in my life.
CHAPTER THREE
HARPER
Present Day
“The usual,” I say, slumping into a bar seat of the Lighthouse Inn’s restaurant. Situated just outside of town, on the Port Snow Peninsula, is the Lighthouse Inn, along with the Lighthouse Restaurant, the lighthouse, and . . . get this—the Lighthouse Inn Restaurant. Seems like there could have been more creativity where our dining establishments are concerned, but they all feed off the picturesque lighthouse that’s still in use to this day, the very same one my dad takes care of.
I spent my entire childhood on this peninsula, climbing the rocks, getting lost in the tall beach grass, and reading up in the gallery of the lighthouse at night when my dad was sleeping.
I have so many memories from growing up in this small town, and they’re all flooding in, some good, most heartbreaking.
“You look like crap,” my best friend, Eve, says, taking my order and passing it to the chef behind her. “I’m going to guess the party at Griffin’s last night didn’t go as planned.”
I press my palms to my eyes, trying to rid the sleep from them. “How did you possibly guess?”
“Oh, I don’t know . . . you just have that Knightly hungover look.”
I sigh and rest my head on the bar, my hand the only thing between my cheek and the wood surface. “He was there.”
“I could have told you that. Come on, Jen wants nothing more than for you and Rogan to be together again. Remember she cried for a week when you broke up? She took it almost as hard as you.”
“I know, but I didn’t think she was going to try to bring us together the first night. She told me to my face that he wasn’t going to be there.” I raise my head from the bar and sit back in my chair. “I don’t know why I believed her.”
“Me neither. She’s a sly one.” Eve serves up some mimosas and sets them to the side for the servers. “So what did he say to you?”
She places a cup of coffee in front of me, and I let it scald my tongue as I take a big gulp. Wincing, I say, “Not much. He tried to run away once he realized who I was. I think the only reason he said anything to me was because his mom called him over.”
“Ahh, and you know those Knightly boys; they never want to disappoint their mama. So what did he say? Did he give you that Rogan rake-over, make your toes curl and your nipples pucker all at the same time?”
“No idea. I could barely look him in the eye.” I press my hand to my forehead. “God, Eve, it was so embarrassing and uncomfortable. He clearly wasn’t happy I was there, and then when I told him I was going to be here for a while—”
“Uh . . . be here for a while, as in, you told him you moved back?”
“I didn’t want to give the man a coronary at his brother’s girlfriend’s birthday party. He’ll find out sooner or later, but I couldn’t muster up the courage to tell him.”
“Well, it’s not like he owns the town. You’re allowed to live here too.”
“You do realize he owns like half the houses here? So yeah, he does own the town.”
Eve waves her hand at me. “Pfft, technicality. So how did you leave it?”
“Stupidly. I told him I was going to leave because technically I didn’t belong there, and then he told me I could still hang out with his family if I wanted to.” A sarcastic laugh pops out of me. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen. The only reason I went last night was because Jen practically told me she was going to come to the lighthouse and drag me to the party and I didn’t want to make a scene, especially not in front of my dad.”
“He still doesn’t know about Rogan and how he broke things off?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t have the heart to tell him. He just loves Rogan so much; I don’t want to taint their relationship. Though Rogan has kept his distance anyway. Ugh.” I slouch against the bar counter again. “Small towns suck.”
“No,” Eve counters. “Small towns that contain your ex-fiancé suck. It also doesn’t help that he gets sexier with every year that passes.”
“Yeah, thanks for the reminder.” I run my fingers through my hair, remembering the devilish smirk I caught last night, the same smirk that quickly stole my heart.
Of course Rogan Knightly would be even hotter than before, because that’s what happens with the Knightlys—they all carry this gene that makes it impossible for any of them to be unattractive. Nope, Rogan Knightly took my breath away last night, just like he used to every time he pressed his lips against mine.
In a gray sweater that clung tightly to his thick chest and wide shoulders, and jeans that adhered to his powerful thighs, he stood there like the teenager I used to know, the one who would protect me from anything. His rich brown hair curled out from his beanie, and those blue eyes begged me to look at him. But I couldn’t. I know what those eyes can do, the kind of happiness and heartbreak they bestowed upon me.
“So what are you going to do?” Eve asks just as the chef yells, “Order up,” and plops a plate in the window, which she retrieves and places in front of me.
I poke the yolks of my eggs, watching them float around my plate and ooze into my hash browns. “What do you mean, what am I going to do?”
“Are you not going to drive him crazy?”
“Didn’t plan on it. I was going to help you and my dad out until the tourist season starts up again, then start giving guided tours up and down the Port Snow coast.” Not my dream plan, but hell, it’s something.
“Oh, come on.” Eve presses her hands against the bar counter. “If you’re going to live in the same town as your ex-fiancé, then you might as well take advantage of it. Make him go nuts. Make him regret the very moment he let you out of his sight. Look at you: you’re twenty-eight, gorgeous, and single.”
“And freshly out of a horrible relationship. The last thing I want to do is try to entice Rogan Knightly, the man who dumped me like I never mattered to him.”
“You know that’s not the truth. He was in a bad place
. He drove everyone away.”
Why is she defending him?
“And I’m the one person he should have leaned on. No.” I shake my head. “I’m not going to engage with him.”
“Who said anything about engaging with him?” Eve plasters an evil grin on her face. “I’m just talking about frequenting his usual spots, looking sexy as hell, reminding him what a dumbass he is for ever letting you go.”
My fork reaches my mouth, bearing a cluster of hash browns and eggs ready to be consumed. “Are you saying I should torture the man?” She smiles brightly, and I put my fork down. “I think he’s tortured enough, Eve. He doesn’t need me adding to his misery.”
Eve chuckles and then taps her finger on her chin. “Remember when I sent you that newspaper clipping years ago? The one about the curse?”
Oh my God.
I can still remember the night I called Eve after getting her little letter in the mail. I was living in Boston and had just started giving small whale-watching tours off the Cape. It had been a rough day out at sea. I’d just gotten back to my apartment and was busy nursing a tea when the mail was pushed through the slot in my door.
The Knightly boys were cursed. At least that’s what the town gossip was, thanks to Brig’s loud mouth.
KNIGHTLY BOYS: CURSED WITH BROKEN LOVE
According to the article and Eve’s scribbled note, all four of them were down in New Orleans, celebrating Brig’s twenty-first birthday, when they stumbled over a witch of some sort who cast a broken-love curse on them. According to town gossip, they’re cursed with doomed relationships . . . I guess I could possibly attest to that, but really, a witch? A curse? Come on.
“What about it?”
“Maybe the little town fable is true, maybe the Knightlys really are cursed, and having you back in town is like a cold, hard reminder to Rogan that he’s been dealt a dose of broken love.”
I scoff and push my eggs around on my plate. “Please, that stuff isn’t real.”
“But don’t you see it, Harper? You’re the reason he’s so miserable. You’re the reason he has broken love, why he’s never moved on. He knows he let a good thing go.”
I continue to push my eggs around, staring down at my plate. “If he really thought he let a good thing go, he would have come back years ago instead of starting a new life in the town where we grew up . . . without me.”
“What do you think about going down to the diner for lunch today? I heard the patty melt is today’s special,” my dad says as he soaps up one of the panes that look out over the vast gray stretch of the Atlantic Ocean.
Once a day my dad climbs the steep lighthouse stairs, soap and water bucket in hand, to clean the lantern’s panes on the inside and out. I offered to help him when I saw him carrying everything up by himself. I know he’s physically fit and one of the healthiest guys in town, but there’s something about seeing your fifty-year-old father climbing stairs, arms full, that makes you want to jump to your feet and give him a hand.
“I don’t know . . . I’m not sure I’m ready to head down to the diner just yet.”
“You went to that party last night,” he points out, confusion in his voice.
I wipe off the squeegee with a towel and carefully set it against the pane again, dragging down, being careful not to snag the chipping paint. The lighthouse, though beautiful with its plaster tower and black-and-white accents, is very old. “Yeah, that was a mistake. I should have stayed home.”
“Why was it a mistake? I thought you went to Griffin’s house. Was Rogan there?”
I tread carefully, knowing my dad still cares for the boy who stole my heart. “Yeah, he was. It just felt weird, you know? I think it’s going to take time to feel at home here.”
“I can understand that.” Silent for a moment, he wrings his towel in the soapy water and then gives the pane one more wipe-down. “Are you going to tell me what happened? Why you’re back here? I really thought you and Brandon were going to get engaged soon.”
How could I possibly tell my dad what happened, the real reason I’m back in Port Snow? No one knows, and honestly, I don’t want to think about it, relive the past, not when I’m trying to move forward.
I swallow hard. “Brandon wasn’t the man I thought he was.”
My dad eyes me from across the lantern but doesn’t push me any further. Instead, he asks, “So what are your plans now?”
“I don’t really know. I mean, I thought I would help out you and Eve until tourist season roars up again and from there maybe tour-guiding along the coast. Not quite sure.”
“Is that what you really want? You always said you wanted bigger and better things than Port Snow.”
That’s because I was with Rogan, and it felt like I could do anything with him by my side. Now . . . hell, now I don’t even know who I am anymore. It’s as if I’m an empty shell ready to be filled, but I keep relying on the wrong person to fill it.
“I don’t know what I want, Dad,” I answer, tears welling in my eyes, my voice shaky.
Not missing anything when it comes to his daughter, my dad sets down his rag and walks to me. He gently pulls the squeegee from my hand and wraps me in his embrace. As he lifts my chin, tears run down my face.
“Oh, Harper.” He pulls me into a hug, his arms cocooning me in safety. “What’s going on, my beautiful girl?”
I press my cheek against his flannel button-up shirt, finding, for the first time in months, true solace. “I’m lost, Dad. I’m so freaking lost.”
He kisses the top of my head. “Then maybe we spend some time finding you.”
“I don’t even know where to begin. I thought I had everything figured out.” My breath catches in my chest. “I thought . . . God, I thought I would be married with children by now. I thought I would still be with—”
I can’t even say his name, the pain too raw, especially after seeing him last night. Even after seven years, it just reminded me of everything I’ve lost: the love of my life, my future, my best friend, myself.
It’s almost as if once Rogan broke up with me, I’ve been a helpless wanderer, floating up and down the East Coast, searching for anything to make me happy again.
I’m still searching.
“It must be hard, being back in the same town as him, but I raised a stronger woman than that. I raised an independent woman who doesn’t need a man to make her happy.”
Rogan was so much more than just a man to me . . . so much more.
“I know.” I wipe away a tear. “But I was so set on what my life was going to be when I was with Rogan.”
“And now it’s time to change gears and figure out who you are, Harper. Figure out what you want. I think it’s time you let the past go and start looking toward your future.”
“I don’t know how to let him go, Dad. He was such a huge part of my life, and being here in Port Snow, it’s like I’m reliving those memories all over again.”
“Well,” he says, placing another kiss on my head, “I guess we’re just going to have to make new memories in this town, aren’t we?”
CHAPTER FOUR
ROGAN
Sophomore Year, High School
“How could you have missed that throw? It practically bounced off your chest,” Griffin calls out, a wicked smile on his face.
I rest my hands on my hips, my breath short after sprinting back and forth down the beach. The football did bounce off my chest, right in front of Harper too. Freaking embarrassing. “Maybe if you threw it ten feet to the left, then I would have had a shot. You can’t just make me run for the hell of it.”
“I think that’s exactly what he’s doing.” Harper laughs, retrieving the football. She gives it a good toss back to Griffin, but it falls about twelve feet short. “Ooh, almost made it that time.”
“What did I tell you?” I come up behind her and grip her arm. “You have to use your whole body, not just your arm.” I demonstrate, moving her hips. Any opportunity to touch her . . . and from the knowing look in
Griffin’s eyes as he watches us, he understands my intentions.
She swats me away. “I know what I’m doing. I don’t need your help.”
“Really? Because it looks like you do.”
“Don’t let him put you down,” Claire, Griffin’s girlfriend, says as she jogs barefoot through the surf and pulls Harper into a side hug, her golden hair whipping in the ocean breeze. “He’s just jealous you have better spin on your ball.” I know Harper envies her a lot, but not in a jealous kind of way; Claire may be stunning, but she’s also one of the sweetest people we know.
“What?” I scoff. “You wish. Out of all of us, I’m the one who should be handing out lessons.”
Griffin runs up the beach to join the conversation, tossing the ball to me when he reaches Claire. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her neck. They’ve been dating for a while now; it almost feels like she’s been a part of the family for years. She holds her own with us brothers, doesn’t even knock when she comes to the house, and is at family dinner at least every other night.
“As much fun as this was, I think I’m going to take my girlfriend for a little walk along the beach.” Griffin slides his hand down to Claire’s and pulls her in the opposite direction.
Claire waves and gives us a quick smile. “This was fun.”
Took them long enough to venture out. Now I get some alone time with Harper. At least that’s what I think I want—until she looks at me with that beautiful smile, and all I can do is feel my cheeks go scary hot.
Be cool, man.
Once they’re out of earshot, I turn to Harper and hold up the football. “Go long?” Her brow pinches together. Ugh, real smooth, man.
“No thanks. You throw it too hard.”
“And here I thought you were saying your arm is better than mine.”
She laughs and walks back to the blanket, her hands in her pockets, her butt looking really good in those shorts. I shift uncomfortably, trying to hide the feelings sprouting up inside me. “It is. That’s why I’m not throwing you passes down the beach; I don’t want to hurt those precious hands of yours a week before school starts.”
That Forever Girl Page 3