Beneath the Summer Sky - Chapter 10: Chapter 10

The silence between us is the loudest thing in the room.
I can hear my own breathing, shallow and ragged, but I don't know how to fix it. The weight of what just happened hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. I can't shake the image of her, her lips, swollen from our kiss, her eyes filled with confusion and something else. Something I don't want to acknowledge.
I should've walked away. I should've kept my distance. But I didn't. And now, I'm drowning in the consequences of my own weakness.
I spent the entire night turning the events over in my head, replaying every moment of that kiss over and over, the way her hands gripped me, the way her body melted against mine, the way it felt like the world stopped spinning the moment our lips met.
But the worst part? I wanted it again.
And that scared the hell out of me.
I knew, deep down, that it couldn't happen again. It was wrong. So wrong. Harper was my daughters best friend, and what we'd just shared, it wasn't just a mistake, it was a betrayal.
But she hadn't pulled away. She hadn't rejected me. She'd kissed me back, with all the hunger I felt swirling inside me. It wasn't just a moment of weakness for her. She wanted it too. And that was a whole new kind of danger I wasn't ready for.
It didn't matter that she wanted me. It didn't matter how much I wanted her.
I had to pull back. For her. For Grace. For the damn ranch. Hell, for everyone who depended on me. I couldn't be the man who crossed this line.
But now, as the sun rises and I stand at the window looking out over the ranch, the weight of what I've done doesn't feel like something I can easily walk away from.
I had spent the morning avoiding her. Pretending like nothing had happened, like that kiss was just some fleeting thing that didn't mean anything.
But it wasn't. It wasn't fleeting. It was everything.
And now, Harper's avoiding me, too.
The quiet between us is suffocating.
I can feel the tension every time we pass each other in the house, the space between us palpable. She hasn't looked me in the eye since last night.
I haven't looked at her, either. Not directly.
I'm a fucking coward.
But I can't help it. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to fix this. I want to hold her, to kiss her again, to tell her this is all right. But it's not. It can't be.
I can feel the guilt gnawing at me, digging deep into my gut. It twists my insides like a vise. Every time I catch a glimpse of her, I see that flash of longing in her eyes, but it's mixed with hurt and uncertainty. She's confused, just like I am.
I hate myself for putting that look in her eyes.
By the time the sun dips low in the sky, I can't take it anymore. I've spent the whole day working in the barn, avoiding the house, avoiding her. But this isn't something I can ignore. This isn't something I can run from.
I need to talk to her.
When I step inside the house, I find her in the kitchen, the soft light from the window casting shadows across her face. She's chopping vegetables, her movements quick and efficient, but there's something off about the way she's holding herself. She's tense. Wound tight.
I lean against the doorframe, my voice low. "Harper."
She stiffens, then slowly looks up at me, her eyes guarded.
"Can we talk?" I ask, my throat tight.
She doesn't answer right away. There's a flicker of uncertainty in her gaze, but then she nods.
I watch as she places the knife down, her fingers trembling slightly as she reaches for the towel to wipe her hands. She doesn't meet my eyes again as she walks toward me.
I don't know how to start this conversation. I don't know how to make it right.
"I... I shouldn't have kissed you," I say, my voice thick with guilt. "I know I hurt you. I should've stopped. I just... I couldn't."
Her eyes flicker with something that feels like a mix of frustration and something softer. She crosses her arms over her chest, her chin lifting as she meets my gaze.
"I don't need you to apologize, Graham," she says quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't need you to tell me it was a mistake."
I want to say something. I want to tell her that it was a mistake, that I'm sorry, that we can't let this ruin everything. But her words hit me harder than I expect.
I don't know what to say to that.
She's standing there, right in front of me, and I'm struggling to figure out what the hell to do next.
She takes a deep breath, her eyes softening just slightly as she speaks again.
"I wanted it too," she admits, her voice shaking ever so slightly. "I wanted it more than I should have. And I don't know what this means for us. I don't know how to make sense of it either."
My chest tightens at her words, and I step closer, needing to bridge the distance between us.
But before I can say anything else, she shakes her head, a sad smile crossing her lips. "But I also know that we can't keep pretending nothing happened."
I want to reach for her. I want to pull her into my arms, kiss her until we both forget why this is wrong, but I can't. I can't do that to her.
Not again.
"I'm not letting you go, Graham," she says, her voice steady, but there's a fire in her eyes. "I know this is complicated. But I'm not pretending this doesn't matter."
And in that moment, I know we've crossed a line. There's no turning back from this.
I just hope I'm strong enough to protect her from the storm we're about to unleash.