Chapter 2

Harper's POV

I'd been checked over, bruising, minor cuts, shock. They wanted to keep me overnight for observation. I hadn't said much because my throat felt like it was closing up.

The hospital room was too bright and everything was white and sterile and too quiet.

The door opened and I flinched.

But it was Gregory's parents.

His mother rushed to my bedside, her eyes red and swollen. "Harper. Oh, sweetheart. I'm so, so sorry."

His father stood at the foot of the bed and looked like he'd aged ten years. "We had no idea. We never thought—"

"Where's Gregory?" My voice came out hoarse.

They exchanged a glance.

"He's with Marcella," his mother said quietly. "She's in another room. She hit her ribs in the crash, they're keeping her for observation too."

"Harper, we need to explain something." His father pulled up a chair. "Marcella and Gregory... they dated in high school. It ended badly. She...she didn't take it well."

"She cheated on him," his mother added, gripping my hand. "During senior year. When Gregory found out, he broke up with her. And Marcella just... broke."

"She wouldn't leave him alone. She'd show up at our house in the middle of the night, crying, threatening to hurt herself. She said she couldn't live without him. It got so bad that Gregory moved across the country for college just to get away from her."

My mouth felt dry. "He never told me."

"He thought it was over," his father said. "It's been eight years. We all thought she'd moved on, gotten help. When he decided to come back for the wedding, we thought it would be fine. We were wrong."

Eight years. Gregory had been running from this girl for eight years.

And he'd never once mentioned her to me.

Not in three years of dating. Not when he proposed. Not when we planned to come back here.

"We're so sorry, Harper." His mother was crying now. "If we'd known she'd do something like this—"

The door opened again.

Gregory stood there and he looked destroyed. His eyes were bloodshot, his shirt wrinkled. He crossed the room in two steps and dropped to his knees beside my bed.

"Harper. God, Harper, I'm so sorry. I'm so fucking sorry."

He grabbed my hand and pressed it to his face. His tears were hot against my skin.

"I didn't know. I swear I didn't know she'd do this. We've been done for years...years...I thought she was okay. I thought..." His voice broke. "I almost lost you. I almost..."

He couldn't finish, just cried with his whole body shaking.

I stared at him. This man I'd loved for three years. This man I'd been about to marry.

This man who'd never told me he had a mentally unstable ex-girlfriend.

But he didn't know, a voice in my head whispered. He's a victim too. Look at him.

"Gregory." I said.

He looked up at me, desperate and pleading.

"Let's just get married and leave," he said. "Tomorrow, if you want. We'll go back to Boston and never come back here. We'll never see her again. I promise. Please, Harper. Please don't leave me over this."

I thought about the first time we met. A coffee shop near campus, both reaching for the last blueberry muffin. His shy smile. The way he'd insisted I take it, then asked if he could buy me coffee to make up for his presumption.

I thought about lazy Sunday mornings in our apartment. His terrible singing in the shower. The way he always made my coffee exactly right.

I thought about the night he proposed. On the bridge by the river, snow falling, his hands shaking so badly he almost dropped the ring.

Three years of my life. Three years of love and plans and promises.

And one day of absolute terror.

But he loved me. I could see it in his eyes. He was scared too. This wasn't his fault.

Was it?

My chest felt tight and I couldn't breathe right. But I looked at him and saw the boy who'd given me his jacket when I was cold. Who'd driven four hours to surprise me on my birthday.

"Okay," I whispered.

"Okay?" Hope flared in his eyes.

"Okay. We'll leave. We'll go back to Boston."

He let out a sob and pressed his forehead against our joined hands. "Thank you. Thank you. I love you so much. I'll make this right. I promise I'll make this right."

I closed my eyes.

This is the right choice, I told myself. He loves you. You love him. That's what matters.

But then why did he run to her first?

Since I wasn't really hurt, I got discharged pretty quickly. I went back to Gregory's place to pack up my stuff so we could head back to Boston together. I folded another shirt and tossed it in my suitcase, trying to focus on what I was doing and not think about the knot of anxiety eating away at my stomach.

We'd canceled the wedding. Gregory said we'd do something simple back in Boston, just the two of us, away from all this.

Away from her.

I picked up my favorite sweater and held it for a moment. Three years of building a life with someone, and I'd never known about the girl who tried to kill me yesterday, the girl he'd dated, the girl he'd run from.

But he didn't know she'd do this, I told myself. He's a victim too.

I heard the front door close. Gregory's voice drifted up, talking to his dad about the cake refund, and then the car started and pulled away.

I was alone in the house. I needed the quiet to think, to convince myself this was all going to be okay.

The doorbell rang.

My hands froze on the suitcase zipper and something cold slid down my spine.

It's nothing. Probably a neighbor.

I walked downstairs and opened the door.

Marcella stood on the porch.