I emptied the open beer bottle I barely touched into the sink and tossed it along with the other empty ones in the recycle bin. “I’ve got to go.”

“You’re like over her, right?” he asked as I went to the door.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re not like still hung up?”

I took a moment before answering—but I had no intention of lying to my brother. I had nothing to hide. “I’ve got too much going on to be hung up on anything.”

He nodded.

Now that Harper had what she wanted, I doubted she’d be coming around anymore anyway.

After a shower, I tossed the wet towel onto my floor which I never did—but I was too damn exhausted to care about anything but sleep right now—and crawled into my bed. Covering only half my body with feather-filled covers.

I closed my eyes, which itched like hell after days of wearing my extended wear contacts. I was responsible when it came to everything else in life but staying routine with my lenses was always far from my mind. Especially since the last few days—being my brother, who had perfect vision—called for nothing but my contacts.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day of playing catch-up at the office. Between last night’s practice and the game this evening, I hadn’t even touched some of the accounts that needed my attention. And it was only a matter of time before the clients noticed.

And my bosses.

I twisted between the sheets as Harper’s face came to mind, and I tried to shake it. My chest already heavy with the inclination that I wouldn’t be seeing her again.

There was just no reason for it now.

Just as the image cleared, there was a light knock on my door. Expecting it to be Troy, I ignored the first one.

But when the knock sounded again, with a little more force, I turned, alarmed. There was something off about it. That wasn’t the knock of a six foot-four hockey player with hard knuckles.

It was most definitely a smaller hand. And though tentative, it was unrelenting. Whoever it was, was not going away.

I didn’t bother with boxers and just threw on my thin pajama pants. It occurred to me they were the same ones Harper was wearing when she crashed here last week.

Slipping on my black-rimmed eyeglasses, I treaded down the hall, pulling the door open without a thought. I would have sworn that my tired eyes were playing ticks on me, but there was no way my imagination would carry me as far as picturing Harper with the rock-hard expression she held right now.

I swiped the frames off my eyes and she frowned as if disappointed. She took in a breath, looking down at the spectacles I held between my fingers.