“What am I going to do, Bern?” he whispered, scratching his pointy ears.
Bernard put his paw on the window as though pointing to the cabin and saying,Just go inside and ask her how she is, you plonker.
“I can’t do that. I have to let go of all this now,” Fraser argued, resting his temple on the cool windowpane. Rain pattered down, adding loud white noise to his conflicted brain chatter. “She’s going. Any day now. And she’s not good for me. Everybody else needs me, too!”
Bernard whined.
“I know, but it was my fault she got hurt, so I’m clearly no good for her either. And we just… we can’t keep giving each other so much when it can’t lead to anything.All it does is hurt. I don’t have time to be hurt.”
Closing his eyes, Fraser shook his head.I’m monologuing to my bloody dog now. That’s how ridiculous this woman has made me.
Clearly, his sad little speech had bored Bernard, because he placed his paw on the door handle, swung it open and rushed out. He pushed the unlocked gate open and sprinted straight to the cabin, where his new favourite person resided.
A rock buried in Fraser’s chest. Even his dog wanted to keep her here. He would be furious if Bernard started showing signs of separation anxiety once Harper returned to Manchester.
When Bernard barked at the door impatiently, Fraser forced himself out of the truck. The soil squelched against his boots as icy rain ran down his face. He marched up the porch steps and knocked on the door. Like yesterday, there was no reply, and that same panic returned like a gale-force wind.
“Harper. Answer the door, please,” he called.
She didn’t. Probably still angry at him, which she had every right to be. Maybe she’d already headed out to write, but he’d hoped she might be tucked up in bed, recovering properly, so that he wouldn’t have to fret about her health for another day and night.
Impatiently, Bernard hopped up on his hind legs, lowering the door handle. It creaked open to reveal an empty cabin.
Her things were gone. The blanket she’d kept on his couch. The collection of coats she’d hung on his door.
His stomach dropped. He strode in on shaking knees, going straight to the bedroom.
The sheets were made neatly, pillows plumped in place. No suitcase, no clothes, no her.
She was gone.
Fraser opened his mouth to swear, but no sound came out. If he had felt broken yesterday, he felt ruined now. He went back into the living room, convinced that if he just looked again, he’d find proof that she was still there. That she hadn’t just left without saying goodbye.
All he found instead was an envelope on the coffee table. He sank onto the couch and grabbed it, tracing the letters on the back.
Thank you for everything.
Her curly handwriting had become as familiar to him as his own after so many weeks of watching her plan in that little notebook, fluffy pen in hand. The envelope was heavy: bank notes, he realised, filled it. Her week’s rent, and surely extra, along with the key to his cabin.
Gone. She was really gone.
He dug his palms into his eyes, trying to force his breathing to remain steady, but it was hard when he felt like something had been ripped from him. He’d known it would hurt, but not this much. This, he’d never be able to protect himself from. No amount of caution could have prevented it.
Bernard whimpered quietly, nuzzling beneath Fraser’s hands to lick his chin.
“She’s gone, bud,” he rasped. “Sorry. It’s my fault.”
He couldn’t blame her for it, either. He’d been a bawbag yesterday, and had spent the night feeling sick as he replayed his own stiff responses in his head. And for what? He was still on the brink of tears. Pushing her away hadn’t saved him from feeling pain or abandonment.
If anything, it made it worse. She didn’t know what she meant to him. She didn’t know how badly he’d miss her.
Leaning back on the couch, Fraser wrapped his arms around his torso as though he could contain the hurt. It spilled out anyway, making it hard to catch a full breath. What now? Would he just have to carry on with his day, even though he was heartbroken?
A sharp corner jutted into his hip. He sighed, reaching under the cushion to yank it away – and froze when he felt cool metal.
He recognised the smooth matte rose-gold instantly. Her laptop. She’d left her laptop.
Though he knew it was wrong, a kernel of hope grew inside him. This gave her a reason to come back. Besides, she’d said she would be here for Flockhart’s reopening and Fraser’s launch. Surely, even if she didn’t want to see him, she’d return for the sake of the friends she’d made. To say goodbye.
