Or would she have gone along for the ride?
Harper didn’t know how long she had been crying. She’d held it together as she walked out of the hotel room, strode down the hall, waited impatiently for the elevator-maybe because she had still hoped Adam would follow.
But he didn’t. And when the elevator doors closed her in, she lost it. She’d been crying ever since. Crying and drinking, drinking and crying, and even though she was in public, and she could feel Miranda and Kane staring down at her, for once, she didn’t care. What did it matter what they thought-what anyone thought?
She was in a strange city, surrounded by foreign people and places, and her world was shattered.
It shouldn’t matter, she told herself. Losing Adam. She’d been through worse. She’d lost more than that. She’d survived.
But it all added up. And just knowing what Beth had done, knowing she was up there in the room, with Adam, that the two of them were… together… it felt like a knife digging into her side, carving out pieces of flesh. Soon there would be nothing left.
She felt a light touch on her shoulder. At least she still had Miranda. She felt a gush of gratitude. “Harper, come on, let’s get out of here,” her friend-the only one who hadn’t betrayed her-said gently.
“I can’t go back to the hotel,” Harper moaned. “Not when he’s there. With her.”
“Okay. Okay, then, let’s just go somewhere more private, get you… cleaned up.”
Dimly, Harper realized she must look like shit. And probably the whole bar was staring at the crazy girl, wondering what was wrong with her.
Someone spiked my drink, Harper thought giddily. Call the cops.
She didn’t care about any of it, but she let Miranda pull her out of the chair and guide her toward the back of the bar. Kane kept his hand on her lower back, keeping her steady. She wanted to tell him she didn’t need his help, but she couldn’t choke the words out.
“I’m going to take her in here,” Miranda said, and Harper realized she was talking to Kane. She was talking as if Harper couldn’t hear her, couldn’t speak or act for herself.
Miranda pushed open the door to the women’s room, and Kane caught Harper’s hand, pulling her toward him. He placed a hand on each of her shoulders and held her firmly. He looked blurry and out of focus, but she knew it was just the tears. “We’ll figure this out, Grace,” he said. “It’s all going to be fine.”
He’d always been a good liar.
Miranda led her inside the empty bathroom and left Kane outside to guard the door. Harper, usually unwilling to touch anything in a public restroom without several layers of paper towel between her and the germs of the masses, hopped up on the edge of the sink and leaned back against the mirror.
“This is it,” she said dejectedly, trying to pull herself back together. “He’s gone. I have to deal.”
“He’s not gone,” Miranda pointed out. “He’s back in the room right now, probably wondering where you are. You sure he didn’t call you?”
Harper shrugged. He had called. Seven times. She hadn’t answered. “I don’t care if he’s looking for me. He stayed with her, after what she did. He stayed with her.”
“Is that really so unforgivable?”
“Rand, after what she did to me?”
“She didn’t do it to you,” Miranda said flatly. A look of horror flashed across her face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it to sound like-”
“Yeah. You did.” Harper hung her head down and wiped away the last of her tears. “I get it. I’m selfish. It’s all about me. Whatever. This isn’t about me, I get that. It’s about Kaia. No, screw that. It’s about Beth, and what she did-and how she lied about it. She hurt so many people, Rand. And a few little tears and it’s like, poof! Adam forgives and forgets. He never forgave me.”
“I know.” Miranda put an arm around Harper’s shoulders. “I know it feels like he’s choosing Beth over you-”
“Because he is,” Harper said sullenly. At least she was finally getting it.
“But maybe…”
“What?”
Miranda opened her mouth. Shut it again. “Never mind.”
“Just tell me!”
“Maybe it’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be,” Miranda suggested.
“She spiked my drink because she wanted to humiliate me. She wanted to rum my life, and ended up killing Kaia. She’s a murderer. What’s simpler than that?”
“But she didn’t mean for it to happen.” Miranda smoothed Harper’s hair down and rubbed a hand across her back. “It was an accident.”
Harper laughed bitterly through her tears. “An accident. Right. The only accident is that Kaia’s the one who ended up dead. You know the little psycho was hoping it was me.”
Miranda sighed. “No. She didn’t want you dead. She just wanted…”
“What are you, a mind reader now? How could you know what she wanted? She’s crazy. She’s evil. She wanted me dead. And she almost got it.”
Miranda took a deep breath. “Harper, I think all Adam’s trying to do is look at it from her side. He’s not betraying you. He’s just… well, imagine what she must have been feeling-what could have made her do something so stupid.”
“What the hell are you trying to say?” But it was obvious. Harper would never have thought Miranda would have the nerve for bullshit like this. Kane, maybe. But not Miranda. Never Miranda. But if this was where she wanted to go, Harper was damn well going to make sure she went all the way. “Do you mean what made her-or who made her?”
“She was hurting,” Miranda said. “And… I can kind of imagine how she felt.” Harper could tell from her expression that Miranda was remembering her own pain; she was remembering her own anger. At Harper. “Maybe she just wanted to strike back, hurt someone the way she-”
“Maybe I deserved it,” Harper snapped. “That’s what you’re trying to say, isn’t it? Maybe you agree with her-maybe you wish I was the one who’d died!”
Miranda flinched, and her lip began to quiver the way it always did just before she started to cry. “Don’t say that. You know that’s not what I mean. I’m not trying to hurt you.” She tried to touch Harper again, but wised up when she caught the look on Harper’s face. She stepped away. But she refused to stop. “I know you don’t want to believe this. I know you want it to be simple, and have Beth be evil, and everyone on your side-”
“Because that’s the truth,” Harper insisted. “That’s reality.”
“Or maybe that’s just what you want to be true, because then you wouldn’t have to face the fact that maybe you-”
“You want to talk about what’s true?” Harper said, hopping off the sink and charging toward Miranda. She couldn’t let the conversation go any further-she didn’t know what would happen if she let Miranda finish her thought. “You’re going to tell me about making my own reality? Avoiding the harsh glare of truth?” She forced a bitter laugh. “That’s hilarious. That is fucking hilarious.”
“Harper, I’m just trying to-”
“And here, of all places.” Harper spun around, flinging her arms out toward the filthy stalls. The anger coursing through her felt good. It swept away the misery, and gave her strength. Power. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing, rushing off to the bathroom after every meal? You think I haven’t figured out your pathetic little problem, even if you want to pretend it doesn’t exist?”
“That’s ridiculous, Harper, I do not-”