Chapter 21
Dylan slumped against Harper’s door for what felt like hours, eventually rising just enough to press his forehead against the cool surface. “If you remembered everything,” he whispered hoarsely, “would you come back to me?” He clung desperately to this last thread of hope: if Harper’s memory magically returned, she’d inevitably choose him again. After all, she’d pursued him relentlessly for seven years—those feelings couldn’t possibly disappear overnight.
Back in Manhattan, Dylan tore through his penthouse like a man possessed, dumping out drawers and ransacking closets in search of anything connected to Harper—birthday cards, notes, gifts—anything that might help jog her memory. After hours of frantic searching, all he found was a small lavender sachet she’d hand-sewn for him, buried at the bottom of a box in his storage closet.
“Carmen,” he called to his housekeeper, “where are all the things Harper Coulson gave me? The stuff I kept in the storage room?”
His housekeeper looked confused. “You instructed us to dispose of those items last spring, Mr. Rodriguez. You said, and I quote, ‘Get this clutter out of my life.’” Dylan ran his hands through his disheveled hair, dismissing her with an irritated wave as the irony of his past actions hit him full force.
Armed with only the small sachet and desperation, Dylan returned to Boston. He parked across from Harper’s building, waiting for twenty-four hours before finally spotting her leaving with Tyler. Ignoring Tyler’s presence completely, he rushed forward, thrusting the sachet toward Harper as if it were evidence in a murder trial.
“You made this for me,” he blurted out. “After that all-nighter I pulled for the Richards presentation. You said lavender would help with my insomnia.”
Harper knocked it from his hand without a second glance, watching it fall to the sidewalk with complete indifference. “Jesus Christ, I need a restraining order,” she said, her voice hardened with exasperation. “I’ve been crystal clear—I don’t remember you, I don’t want to remember you, and I want you to leave me the hell alone. What part of that isn’t registering?”
When Dylan instinctively reached for her arm, Tyler stepped between them with practiced efficiency.
Something in Dylan snapped. He threw a wild haymaker that caught Tyler on the jaw. Tyler, apparently no stranger to conflict, responded with a swift right hook that sent Dylan staggering backward. Within seconds, they were locked in an embarrassingly juvenile scuffle on the sidewalk.
Harper pulled Tyler back, her hands instantly gentle as they framed his face. “Your tip’s split. Come on, let’s get you upstairs.”
Tyler dabbed at the blood with his thumb, shooting Dylan a look that promised future consequences. “Next time you put hands on either of us, you’ll be leaving in an ambulance, Rodriguez.”
Dylan watched helplessly as Harper examined Tyler’s face with tender concern. “It doesn’t look too deep, but we should clean it before it gets infected.”
The scene felt like someone was carving out his insides with a dull spoon. “Harper,” he called out pathetically.
She didn’t even acknowledge him, just guided Tyler toward the building entrance, her hand protectively pressed against the small of his back.
Dylan tried to follow but found himself frozen in place, watching them disappear through the lobby doors.
The bitter irony wasn’t lost on him. Back in college, when he’d gotten into that fight defending Ruby’s honor, Harper had rushed to his side with an identical expression of concern. He’d shoved her away, irritated by what he’d perceived as clingy behavior. Now Tyler was receiving the care and devotion he’d treated as an annoyance.
Everything Tyler now cherished, Dylan had possessed first—and carelessly discarded. He had systematically dismantled the love of someone who had once looked at him like he was everything.
Dylan remained rooted to that spot long after sunset, unable to tear himself away from the sidewalk where his last hope had disintegrated.
“Dylan?” A familiar voice broke through his misery.
For a split second, his heart leaped, but when he turned, he found Ruby standing there, designer handbag clutched nervously at her side. His expression instantly hardened. “How the hell did you find me?”
Ruby’s eyes filled with calculated tears as she approached. “I was so wrong about everything. What I did was inexcusable, but if you’d just—”
When she reached for his sleeve, Dylan recoiled as if she were contagious. He stared at her with cold clarity, finally seeing through the performance that had fooled him for so long.