Maybe she’ll stay in Chicago.
I wonder what she’s done all day.
My phone rings and I answer it. “Hey, Vivian.”
“Hey, have you talked to Harper today?”
“I texted her around three. Why?”
“She was here this morning, and something came up. She said she needed to do something and couldn’t take Hope. I said I’d watch her, but she hasn’t come back, and she left around nine fifteen.”
My pulse races.
“I just tried calling her, but she isn’t answering her phone,” Vivian adds.
“Where did she go?”
“I’m not sure.”
“You didn’t ask her?”
“I didn’t want to pry into her business.”
I run my hand through my hair and tell myself to stay calm. “Let me try to call her.”
Harper never answers or responds to my text messages. I check Jamison’s, but she’s not there, so I go over to Vivian’s.
“Why isn’t she answering,” I growl then freak out more when her phone stops ringing and goes directly to voice mail.
I’m pacing, pulling my hair, about to call the police when Vivian’s phone rings.
“Harper, where are you? We’re all worried sick,” Vivian says.
I practically run to where Vivian is standing.
“Where are you?” she asks.
My heart races.
“Something Different? That’s on the southside of town in a horrible neighborhood. How did you get there?”
What the hell is Harper doing there?
I know the southside well. Quinn and I grew up there. It’s not a place I want Harper to be by herself, especially at night.
“Pawnshop? Why were you in a pawnshop?”
The hairs on my arm stand up, and I grab the phone from Vivian.
“Harper, are you okay?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Just lost,” she quietly admits.
I close my eyes, relieved to hear her voice. “Stay put. I’m coming to get you now.”
I don’t wait for her to respond and hand the phone back to Vivian. “Watch Hope until I’m back,” I tell Anna, who nods.
Her face looks so painful.
I attempted to find out the story about what happened to her but was quickly redirected and told to drop it. I was so worried about Harper I didn’t push. My guess is Mitch did it. Chase’s hand is also in a cast so I can put two and two together, but I’ll have to find out a different day.
I hope Chase left Mitch in a body bag.
She better not go back to him.
I race out of the penthouse. The entire way, I’m trying to figure out what Harper would be doing in a pawnshop and why she would have gone this far into the southside.
As soon as the car stops, I leap out and go into the bar.
The room is half full, and Harper’s long brown hair catches my eye. She sits nursing a glass of wine, talking to Dawn Golding, who is in the nonprofit world. I know her well from the charity work my company is involved in.
I stand behind Harper and lean down to her ear. “Thank God you’re okay. What are you doing here?”
Her body stiffens, she finishes the rest of her wine, and spins in the bar seat. “I’m sorry you had to come get me. My purse got stolen—”
“How did that happen?”
“I was walking back—”
“From here? In the dark?” I bark, appalled that she would do something so dangerous.
She quietly says, “I didn’t know it was a bad neighborhood.”
“Did you look around?” I growl.
She puts her hand on her hip and glares at me. “No, I actually didn’t look around. But so your haughty self knows, this isn’t any different than my neighborhood in New York.”
I step back, stunned. “Well, you’re never going back to that place.”
“Excuse me?”
“You aren’t living in a neighborhood anything like this one.”
“Don’t tell me what I will or won’t do. And stop being such a snob. Just because you don’t know what it’s like to live anywhere besides penthouses and luxury apartments doesn’t give you the right to look down upon those who do.”
“I’m not looking down on anyone. And I know what this neighborhood is like because I grew up in it,” I bite back.
“Then you shouldn’t be such a snob.”
Silence.
Dawn clears her throat. “Steven.”
I release a breath and turn. I kiss Dawn’s cheek. “I’m sorry. Excuse my bad manners. How are you?”
“I’m fine. Do you want a drink?”
“No, thanks. We’re watching Quinn and Jamison’s daughter, Hope. We need to go.”
“Okay.” She rises. “It was nice meeting you, Harper. I’m going to go sit at my table.”
“Thank you for letting me use your phone,” Harper says.
“The pawnshop opens at eight tomorrow. Vinnie is a straight shooter, so you shouldn’t have any issues getting your phone back.”
“Thanks.”
Dawn smiles and walks away.
More anger boils in me, and I try to calm down, but it’s not working. “Why is your phone in a pawnshop?”
Harper steps toward the door. “None of your business. Let’s go.”
None of my business?
We get into the car, and I stare at her, but she gazes out the window.
I calmly say, “I don’t understand why you aren’t telling me why you’re down here.”
She continues avoiding me. “I didn’t mean to come here. It just happened.”
“How does it just happen?”
She takes a deep breath. Her hands shake and she fidgets with them. “I kept walking to the next shop when I couldn’t get what I needed. It doesn’t matter anyway. My purse had all the cash.”
I put my hand over hers. “If you needed money, I would have given it to you.”
Her voice cracks. “I don’t want to take money from you.”
“Why not? What’s the big deal?”
“I wasn’t raised to take. I was raised to make my own way.”
“What did you pawn?”
“Nothing.” A tear drips down her cheek, and she pulls her hand out from under mine and swipes it away. Her hair moves, and her bare lobes answer my question.
My stomach drops. “What did you need money for?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Harper—”
“My rent. It’s due tomorrow. I didn’t transfer the last of my retirement funds into my bank account. I forgot, and it won’t transfer in time. And the reminder popped up, and if I don’t pay on time, my landlord has a twenty percent late fee. So now you know. I’m a thirty-five-year-old, broke, loser who can’t pay her rent on a run-down, insect-infested apartment. Now you know everything. I would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else, especially not my brother.” She turns back to the window, and her body trembles.
I drag her onto my lap and palm the back of her head. “You aren’t a loser.”
Her face crumbles. “I am.”
“No, you aren’t.”
She sobs, and I hold her to my chest.