Page 104 of Archer

OMG is Harper seeing someone?

I thought she said she wasn’t seeing anyone.

Are these old images?

Why’s she crying?

Is that window broken? OMG what’s happening?

Is she okay?

That’s Carolina Bay! I recognize those dunes.

Calling it now—new album will be about this mystery man

Why does she look terrified though?

The photos from tonight numbered into the hundreds now. Me in different windows. Archer outside. Close-ups of the boombox. The broken glass glittering on the ground. A different image for every breath I took.

She said she wanted someone who’d fight for her. Here’s proof.

Breaking through her defenses one window at a time. Hahaha!

Whose account is this? Does anyone know? How’d they get these pictures? Did they take them? Is HarperFan1 paparazzi? Or are they stalking her?

I was going to be sick. My hands shook so badly I curled my fingers around the phone to keep from dropping it. This wasn’t some anonymous stalker sending roses anymore. This was public humiliation. Hundreds of thousands of people were seeing these photos and sharing them.

My location was no longer a secret.

Nothing was.

The next two comments were from HarperFan1 and bookended in little music notes.

HarperFan1: True love looks like passion. This is passion.

HarperFan1: This is what forever means—finding you no matter where you hide.

My stomach pitched and I ran for the bathroom, then lost whatever had been in my stomach.

I ran a cold, wet cloth over my face and the back of my neck, wondering where I had gone wrong or what I might’ve done differently to avoid this. But there wasn’t anything. I’d simply been living my dream, and a stranger had decided to ruin it for me.

I wrapped my arms around myself as voices filled the cottage. Knox’s low rumble. Colton’s clipped assessment of the damage. Then, a woman’s softer tone. Sloane.

The tears began to fall, because everything was going wrong, my heart was in pieces, and I’d never needed a friend so much in my life.

Sloane strode in my direction the moment I stepped out of the hallway.

“Harper! How are you?” She hugged me tight, and I struggled not to cry again. “Nash is on his way, and the guys will get this all cleaned up, okay?”

I nodded, and she released me. “Let’s make some coffee and sit somewhere we can talk,” she continued.

I followed her to the kitchen table, past Archer and the guys at the sliding glass doors. Sloane continued to the kitchen.

I stole looks at Archer, heartbroken that we’d fought, and gutted that he’d seen our night together as a distraction from his duties. The night had meant everything to me.

Nash knocked on the doorframe before stepping inside. He wore jeans, sneakers, and a t-shirt with a sheriff’s badge clipped to his belt. Had he been off duty when I’d called? I couldn’t remember a time since this started that he hadn’t been the lawman to arrive.

“Hey, Nash.” Sloane smiled and waved him in. “Can I get you anything to drink?”