There wasn’t much that Blue could say as he stood in the entryway and watched Harper walk out his front door.  He’d never felt so conflicted in his life.  He didn’t know how two completely opposing emotions could inhabit his chest like pieces of himself trying to tear him apart from the inside out.  Yet, there he was.

He knew she was going out with Chase tonight.  He’d had to listen to Chase yammer on about looking forward to tonight, and could he leave a little early today so he could get ready.  Blue had shut him out from the get-go, trying to focus on work and not on the ire growing inside him at the very thought of the whole thing.  Why did he care, anyway?  He didn’t want her, so what did it matter if another man had her?

Truth was, she looked beautiful, and all at once, he wanted to stop her from going and push her right on out the door at the same time.  It made no sense.  He was sure it was just a ghost of long-dead feelings he’d once felt for an idea of who he’d thought she was at the time.  Someone she hadn’t turned out to be, after all.

He pulled his boots off and made his way into the kitchen.  Sure enough, a plate of food waited for him in the microwave, so he heated it up and started to eat when he heard Blake hurrying through the house.

“Good night, Blue!  Don’t wait up!” she called from the other room before making her way out the door, not waiting for his reply.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” he said to himself, stuffing another bite of food in.

He realized how quiet it was now that he was the only one there.  Diesel was off somewhere, probably napping, and all he could hear was the soft hum of the refrigerator. It was just quiet enough to let the uneasy feeling settle in his gut and lose his appetite.

He covered his plate and set in the fridge to save for later. Then he strolled upstairs, aiming to shower, change, and come back down to see what might be playing on TV.  It was funny how he’d gotten used to having someone around since Blake had moved back in, and especially since Harper had arrived.  Having the house all to himself should have been a nice, welcomed surprise, but the silence that surrounded him was anything but peaceful now.  

He stopped outside the door of Harper’s room, seeing it standing wide open as if it were inviting him in for a look.  He didn’t hesitate, knowing him and Diesel were the only two in the house, and who was Diesel going to tell? 

His eyes immediately went to the writing desk in front of the window.  The journal wasn’t anywhere conspicuous, but he moved in for a closer look to see if he could find it.  He just wanted to know what, if anything, she may have written about Chase and her date with him tonight.  

Was she looking forward to it?  Was she attracted to the goofy, awkward bastard?  Had she written anything else about Blue?  Possibly something that would help him reinforce his weakening grudge against her so that he could push out any thoughts of hating the fact Chase might be putting his lascivious hands on her tonight, or worse, that she might like it.  

He glanced around the area of the desk, opened the few drawers it had, but no journal in sight.  He knew he shouldn’t be doing this and knew this should have probably been his sign to give up and go on about his evening.  The wrenching in his gut told him to keep looking.

He turned and saw her suitcase sitting on a chair in the far corner near the closet.  Maybe it was there.  He made his way across the room and lifted up the lid of the luggage.  Empty. 

He shook his head, turning back around to scope out what other hiding places she might have used. The nightstand by the bed seemed like an obvious place, so he checked there next, and struck gold when he opened up the top drawer and found the journal tucked neatly inside.  

A rush of excitement pulsed through him as he reached for the possible key to relieving him of these rash emotions.  Certainly the last time he’d read what she’d written, he’d gotten an eyeful that had him fuming for days.  That’s what he needed now.

He opened to the last written page, dated from the evening prior.

It’s funny how life turns out so different from what you dream of as a little girl or a dewy-eyed teenager.  The world holds such hope and promise for a girl in her twenties.  Sometimes, I wonder what things would be like now if my father had never forced me into a marriage with John.  What if Blue had been good enough for me in my father’s eyes?  Would things be different now, or would Blue and I still be two angry people who hate each other?  Would our child still be here with me?  With us?

I know.  There’s no use in playing this game, this “what could have been.”  That’s not how it went.  And life goes on.  It just keeps right on, with or without them. And I remain ever the dutiful daughter, regardless of all it has cost me now with nothing to show for any of it.

Blue’s hands shook until the notebook fell from them onto the floor.  It hadn’t been her choice to leave him?  To marry another man?  It had been because of her father?

He felt a wave of nausea and had to sit down on the edge of the bed.  He’d hated her for leaving him like that, for not even telling him she was moving on.  All this time, and come to find out she’d never wanted to in the first place?  That she’d done it out of some sense of duty for her impossible father? 

He’d known her father was impossible, a strict man who had ruled their home with an iron fist, but Blue had no idea, had never even considered that it hadn’t been her own choice to leave.

He picked up the journal from the floor and scanned the words again. 

Would things be different now, or would Blue and I still be two angry people who hate each other?  Would our child still be here with me?  With us?

Did this mean what he thought it meant?  That she’d had a child – one that he had fathered?  One that she had given up?  So many questions swarmed around his mind.  Why hadn’t she ever told him?  Why wouldn’t she have given him the chance to know his own child?  Why hadn’t she asked him what he wanted?

Blue seethed with anger, once again, that made its way through him like poison in a well.  Be careful what you wish for, his mama always used to say, and he could hear the words plain as day in his head now.  He’d wished for a reason to hate her again, and damn if he hadn’t found it.

He slammed the journal shut and threw it back into the drawer.  He pushed the drawer closed and stalked out of the room with clenched fists.  He’d hoped he’d find something in there that would make him angry enough to despise her again.  Something to sway the juxtaposition of his emotions to the side they needed to be on and keep them there for a while.  Well, it had certainly done that.

This was even lower than he’d already thought she’d stooped.  Harper Haley had some fucking nerve, and more than that, she had a lot of explaining to do.