Page 121 of Archer

Colton looked as confused as I felt. Being from the desert, he was as new to this as I was.

“This is a nor’easter,” Knox said, placing his empty mug in the sink and grabbing a rain poncho. “It won’t be a typical storm, but we’ll get through it. We’ll be back before it hits. Probably won’t reach landfall until tonight.”

Colton headed out the door, eyes fixed on his phone screen, laptop tucked beneath his arm.

Sloane caught my eye before stepping outside. “There’s soup in the freezer. Salad in the fridge and rolls in the pantry if you get hungry before dinner.”

Knox waved her through the doorway. “Come on, woman.”

She smiled, pinched the lobe of his ear between her thumb and forefinger, then led him across the porch.

I closed the door behind them and watched as he spun on her, breaking her grip and throwing her over his shoulder as he jogged down the steps. Her laughter rang through the glass and put a smile on my face. Knox deserved this happiness. They both did. They’d been through the unimaginable together.

Their joy gave me hope, and I needed it, however I could get it. Because this thing with Webb never seemed to end, and I’d never felt as ineffective or incompetent as I had these last couple of weeks. Something had to give before my head exploded from frustration or I went on a door-to-door manhunt for this asshole.

I turned the deadbolt and watched the Jeep back down the drive. Then the house settled into silence, save for the growing winds whistling around the eaves.

Harper emerged from the hallway, moving slowly, eyes on a notepad in one hand, a pen poised above it in the other. Probably working on the same song she’d been writing all morning.

She didn’t look up when I passed her to check the window latch above the sink. Didn’t say anything when I moved the deck chairs in from the back and stacked them in the utility room or when I brought the planters inside. Not even when I staged the flashlights and candles on the kitchen counter in case we lost power.

I’d never experienced a nor’easter, but I knew they were dangerous and unpredictable. Living fifty yards from an angry ocean would make this doubly interesting. Not in a good way.

I returned to the kitchen and reached for the back door.

Then stopped.

Harper met my gaze, seated on a tall bar chair at the island, the pen still positioned above her notepad. She wasn’t writing. She was waiting. Based on the look in her eyes, her patience was thinning.

I turned from the door to face her. “What?”

Her expression was careful, maybe not guarded exactly, but braced. “You want to talk about it?”

Webb had gone dark on every account since Harper’s performance yesterday. I didn’t like that even more than the storm. When someone like Webb changed their game, there was surely trouble afoot. But I didn’t want to stress her out any more than she already was.

“Go on,” she said. “Say it.”

“He didn’t come to your performance, so he’s still out there.”

“I know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked, turning the question on her.

She shook her head. “I am just so damn tired.”

I looked at the notepad between us. The crossed-out lines. The pen she’d finally set down.

“How’s the new song coming?”

She shrugged. “It’s hard to be creative when I know he’s out there. And my plan failed. How can it be this hard to get our hands on a guy that is literally stalking me? It should be easy. He’s always right there.”

I closed the distance between us and wrapped her in my arms.

I kissed her temple, cheek, and crown, then held her as she rested her forehead against my collarbone. She exhaled, slow and deep, as if she’d been holding her breath since she woke up.

“I’m sorry all of this is happening to you,” I said into her hair. “But I promise you I will be right by your side to the very end.”

Her arms tightened around me. “You’re a good man, Archer Stone.”