Sean craned his neck up as the jail cell was opened. “Harris, you’re being released,” the guard said brusquely. “Not you, Johnson,” he warned the newbie who’d shared Sean’s cell for the past twelve hours.

“Fucker,” the new guy muttered under his breath.

Sean pulled himself up wearily. “Released?” he asked. “What happened? My lawyer didn’t—”

“I’m just a guard, not a messenger,” the middle-aged man said. He shifted his weight. “You coming? Or you prefer to sit a spell more?”

Sean followed the beast of a man out the doors where he was reprocessed. A pretty, petite officer instructed him to sign for his phone and wallet, the only two items that had been in his possession during the arrest. He was lucky he’d had those, though the phone was long dead.

In the reception area, T, Connor and Sam jumped on him. Sam hugged him tight, though he’d only met her a few times. Connor gave him the same boyish, shit-eating grin he’d known since childhood.

“How’d you do it?” he asked. “I didn’t even know—”

As Sam let him go, he saw Joon-ki and Harper over her shoulder. His sponsor looked sheepish, but all was forgotten as he drank Harper in. Goddamn, does she look gorgeous. Somehow more amazing than his memories or fantasies could capture.

“Hey,” she said, almost shyly, to the floor. She tucked a lock of fiery hair behind her ear and shifted her hips. Even beneath the flowing black miniskirt and leather jacket with the arms pushed up, he could make out the familiar curves of her body. To him, she may as well have worn nothing at all.

“What … what are you doing here?” She wouldn’t meet his gaze, and he couldn’t blame her. What are you doing here? That’s what you came up with?

“Why don’t we go outside?” T asked, an attempt to soften the blow.

On the concrete steps of the jailhouse, he let Connor wrap an arm around his shoulder. Joon-ki approached with arms open. It felt partly awkward and a little comforting.

“So, let’s give you the rundown,” T said. Everyone was aware that Harper hadn’t hugged him. He could feel it in their body language. Instead, she kept to the perimeter of the circle, wary and uncertain.

“You’re out on bail,” T told him. “Connor paid it.”

“It’s nothing,” Connor said quickly before Sean could protest or make promises of repayment.

“But it’s only while I hash out a plea deal with the DA,” she said. “Honestly, that might take some time. He’s fresh out of law school and a total prick. Sorry. Anyway, until then, you’re on house arrest.”

House arrest. That wasn’t so bad. Sean thought of the ankle monitors he’d seen on television.

Connor cleared his throat. “Sean, you’ll be living with Harper.”

“Excuse me?” Sean gave Connor a death glare. Was this some sort of fucked up joke?

“It’s a new apartment,” Connor said brightly, like he was trying to sell it to him. “I took care of it, it’s furnished and everything. It’ll help Sam and me out, too. We can stay put until the baby comes, and then—”

“Hold up,” Sean said. He closed his eyes and commanded Connor to shut up. “What … why …”

T interrupted. “It wasn’t easy getting to this point,” she said. “The judge wants to see that you’re in a stable environment, that you have somewhere safe to live while on house arrest. It was either Harper or your brother, and given Sam’s condition, it just didn’t seem right to force this on them.”

“This, uh … this is going to be our last trip out here for awhile,” Sam said. She rested her hand on her pregnant belly. “My doctor says I shouldn’t fly anymore after this.”

“We have three hours,” T said, “and then the police will arrive at your new apartment to fit you with an ankle monitor. My understanding is that Harper has already moved in?” She gave Harper a curious look, and Harper nodded numbly at the ground. “And you’d better be there. You hear me?” T asked.

“Yeah. I hear you.” T gave a tight-lipped smile to the rest of the group and traipsed down the last of the stairs toward her car.

“I’m sorry, but I think I need to lie down awhile,” Sam said. Connor put his hand on the small of her back.

“We’ll catch up with you before we leave tomorrow. Okay?” Connor asked. “Harper, you got this?”

Both Sean and Harper nodded obediently in Connor’s direction.

“I should get going, too,” Joon-ki said. “But I’ll check in with you daily, alright? Get that phone charged. We’ll get back on those daily AA meetings as soon as you’re off house arrest, and we’ll set up virtual meetings until then.”

“Right.” Even now, he was embarrassed for Harper to hear those two little letters associated with him. AA.

For what felt like a full minute, he was left alone with Harper on the steps. “We, uh, we should get going,” she said.

“Harper—”

“Seriously?” she turned and finally looked him in the eye. “We don’t have time for this. Don’t make everything worse by being late to get your ankle bracelet put on.”

“I’m really sorry.” It was all he could manage. But surely she could fill in the blanks.

“I saw your face when you saw me,” she said slowly. “I saw your surprise in there. I know you didn’t choose to contact me. That was all Connor.”

“If you would just let me apologize—”

“For what, exactly?” she asked. There was a steeliness in her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest. “For not calling me? For being shitfaced the last time I saw you? Or were you more worried about the fact that you were being arrested? Maybe it’s the long list of drug charges that you’ve accumulated? Which part, exactly, are you apologizing for?”

She had him there. He wanted to say all of it, and he wanted to defend himself, but there was nothing to say. She’d silenced him with a fire he’d only guessed she carried deep inside.

She stalked toward a new Tesla and slipped into the driver’s seat without another word. Is this from Connor? But he didn’t dare speak.

As she weaved through traffic, he saw the neighborhoods get nicer and nicer. Finally, a sign for Brentwood appeared. The luxury high-rise was part of the classic neighborhood’s latest reincarnation. Harper pulled into the parking deck and got out.

“Coming?” she asked, the disdain palpable in her voice.

“Is my brother paying for all this?” he asked. “This … this car, the apartment—”

She gave a mean laugh. “No. You are,” she said. “Apparently, you’re quite wealthy. Who would have guessed?”

She jammed the button for the elevator and he was slammed back into silence.

He thought he’d told her that. Kind of. It’s family money, not mine! he wanted to scream at her. But how did he explain that to his girlfriend? Or ex-girlfriend, whatever they were now?

Harper led him into the sleek apartment kitted out in midcentury modern furniture. The tufted gray sofa, steel and glass tables, and the concrete flooring was all right on trend. He knew exactly who’d been responsible for finding this place. It had Connor written all over it. Sean couldn’t even imagine what Harper thought of the place. He pictured her dream home to be a little Victorian with rich moldings and intricate décor at every corner. Though they’d never talked about things like that, he realized. How much did he really know about her? Suddenly, he was desperate to know every little detail, from her first grade teacher’s name to whether she’d ever roller skated. But those words were still buried in his throat.

She must think he was the biggest poser, slumming it in a crappy little apartment and needling away his days at a tattoo parlor when he had millions of dollars at his disposal. Millions of his father’s dollars.