Secret Plunge - Jasmin Miller Page 0,43
miss.” He tips his head and goes back to his desk.
Harper glances at me with a smile that’s not reaching her eyes.
Once we’ve gotten rid of these groceries, we need to talk.
Neither one of us says a word on the elevator ride, which is strange.
The mood around us shifts with every passing second as we exit on the fifteenth floor and walk down the hallway to her apartment. Or rather her mother’s apartment. And thank fuck, nothing about this building looks like my screwed-up dream.
The apartment is bright and friendly, with lots of white and cream and a few blue accents. I help Harper put away the groceries in the kitchen. If there’s one thing I learned at the grocery store today, it’s that Harper loves cheese and fruit. Chocolate pudding and popcorn. Let’s hope she doesn’t eat it all together.
After putting away the empty grocery bags, she glances over her shoulder at me. “I’ll be right back. I just need to go to the bathroom, and then we can head out again.”
“Okay.” I hold her gaze until she looks away.
I study the skyline out the window when a crash sounds from the hallway she disappeared in, followed by a “shit.”
“Harper, are you okay?” I walk down the long hallway until I come to a closed door with a cussing Harper behind it. I knock on the door. “Everything good in there? Are you hurt?”
She groans. “No, sorry. Everything’s good. I bumped into the soap dispenser and it fell to the floor. The top came undone and now there’s soap everywhere. I’m almost done cleaning it.”
“Do you want me to help?” I feel stupid talking to her through the door.
“No, it’s all right. But thank you. I’ll be right there.”
“Okay.”
I turn to walk back to the kitchen when the wall catches my eye. Both sides of the hallway are covered in photo frames. My mom is just the same. It’s almost embarrassing walking into my parents’ house. Of course, there are dozens and dozens of photos.
Harper at all ages. Adorable with chubby cheeks and baby teeth. A sassy frown and a front tooth missing. A gorgeous teenager. With a woman who must be her mother because the similarities are impossible to ignore.
And then my eyes land on a man with his arms around her as a toddler. Is that her dad? We talked about him briefly. That her parents split shortly after she was born, but that she has a good relationship with her dad, even though he doesn’t live here. There’s something about that man, and the more pictures I see of him, especially when they’re both older, the more the hairs at the back of my neck rise.
Then I get to her college graduation photo and . . .
What the fuck?
That’s Coach.
If that’s her father, then . . . her father is Coach Martin. My coach. My mind is scrambling to understand what’s going on.
The click of the door sounds behind me and then a quiet gasp.
“Ryan?”
My stomach clenches at her shaky voice. Why would she not tell me who her dad was? “Harper, is your dad my coach?” She nods, looking guilty. “Why didn’t you say anything? No, wait. How long have you known about that?”
“From the beginning.”
She lied to me. All this time. Since . . .
“So, you knew who I was when we first met?” And yet she pretended not to know me. Fuck. “Was this all a ploy? For what? To get money?” I spin around so fast, my vision blurs for a moment. Or maybe that’s from my rage.
She rears back like I slapped her. “What? No. Goodness, no. That’s not what I meant. I had no clue who you were when I met you. I’d never try and trap someone like this. I meant that I saw my dad was your coach when I figured out your last name after I saw your ad and then googled you.”
Well, that’s better but still wrong. So fucking wrong. My muscles quiver from the tension in my body.
“So you went to see him when you paid me a visit?”
“Yes. Well, I flew out for you but stayed with him and his wife.” Her eyes are pleading with me, her blue irises have turned into a blue-gray storm that’s trying to suck me in.
Looking at her makes this even worse, so I avert my gaze back to the pictures. What. A. Fucking. Mess.
All the anger and frustration from my last relationship comes back. The drama. I