Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Second Number
1169 Words
Harper
Cole didn’t leave.
He stood in the middle of my kitchen, staring at the newest message as if looking at it long enough might reveal the person behind it.
I folded my arms.
“You said you saw another phone.”
“I said I might have.”
“That isn’t what your face said.”
“My face doesn’t speak.”
“It judges loudly enough.”
His eyes lifted to mine.
Under different circumstances, I might have enjoyed irritating him. There was something satisfying about watching the controlled lines of his face tighten because of me.
Tonight, I was too tired.
“Where did you see it?” I asked.
“At the station.”
“When?”
“The night before the fire.”
My stomach twisted.
“What was he doing with it?”
“He took it from his duffel bag, checked something, and put it back.”
“And you didn’t ask?”
“Firefighters are allowed to own phones without explaining themselves.”
“You were already suspicious of him.”
“I was suspicious of his choices. I wasn’t searching through his belongings.”
I looked at the message again.
**He kept one phone for his family and another for you.**
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said.
Cole’s gaze stayed on the screen.
“Why not?”
“Gavin called me from his normal number.”
“Always?”
I opened my mouth.
Then stopped.
Not always.
Most of his calls came through the number saved in my phone, but there had been others. Calls marked private. A second number he once claimed belonged to the station. Messages he told me not to answer because the phone was shared.
At the time, none of it had seemed important.
Now every forgotten detail felt sharpened.
“There was another number,” I admitted.
Cole’s expression changed.
“How often?”
“I don’t know. Not much.”
“Do you still have the messages?”
“I deleted some.”
“Why?”
“Because he asked me to.”
Cole looked away, but not before I saw the judgment return.
“Say it,” I snapped.
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You don’t have to. I know what you’re thinking.”
“That you made it easy for him?”
The words cut.
“Yes.”
“No.”
I stared at him.
Cole rubbed the back of his neck.
“I’m thinking he knew exactly how to keep each part of his life separate.”
That was not the answer I expected.
It sounded almost like blame.
Not for me.
For Gavin.
I sat at the table and searched through my old conversations. There were months of messages, some sweet enough to make my throat close and others so ordinary they hurt more.
**Did you eat?**
**I’m outside.**
**Wear the blue dress.**
**Miss you.**
I found the second number buried beneath a restaurant confirmation from three months earlier.
No name.
Only seven messages remained.
**Can’t use my regular phone tonight.**
**Natalie is checking the bill.**
**Don’t answer if anyone calls back.**
My stomach rolled.
Cole moved behind me. I felt him reading over my shoulder.
“You knew she was checking his phone?” he asked.
“I knew she suspected something.”
“And you kept messaging him.”
I turned sharply.
“There you are.”
“What?”
“The man who came here pretending this was about my safety.”
“I never pretended anything.”
“You wait five minutes, then find another way to remind me what I did.”
Cole stepped back.
“I’m trying to understand.”
“No. You’re collecting evidence for a trial you decided I lost the first night you saw me.”
His jaw tightened.
“You want me to tell you none of this was your fault?”
“I’ve never asked you to.”
“Then stop acting surprised when I don’t.”
The exhaustion inside me broke into anger.
“I knew I was with a married man. I knew his wife could be hurt. I was selfish, and I believed everything that allowed me to keep him. Is that what you need me to say?”
Cole said nothing.
“I was wrong,” I continued. “I was wrong before I knew about the children, and I was worse after I found out because I stayed. I know that.”
My voice shook.
“But I did not know he was promising Natalie he would stay. I did not know he was showing her one life while building another one for me. And I did not know he was telling you stories that made me look obsessed.”
Cole’s face changed.
I stood.
“So decide which Harper you hate. The one who actually existed or the one Gavin invented for you.”
“I don’t hate you.”
The answer came so quickly that the room went silent.
Cole seemed as surprised as I was.
“What?”
He looked toward the window.
“I hate what you did.”
“That’s not the same?”
“No.”
It should have meant nothing.
A small distinction from a man whose opinion I claimed not to care about.
Still, something inside me loosened.
Cole copied the second number into his phone.
“I’ll check the station tomorrow.”
“Tonight.”
“It’s after midnight.”
“You said the phone might still be there.”
“And if it is, it isn’t going anywhere.”
“You don’t know that. Natalie could collect the rest of his things tomorrow.”
His expression hardened.
“She has every right to collect her husband’s property.”
“And I have a right to know what he was saying about me.”
“No, you don’t.”
The bluntness struck me.
Cole continued before I could answer.
“You had a relationship with him. That doesn’t give you ownership of every conversation he had.”
“I want the messages he sent me.”
“If they exist.”
“They exist. The person texting me knows about the phone, the storage unit, and what Gavin promised Natalie.”
That stopped him.
Cole looked down at the number he had copied.
Then toward the box containing Gavin’s belongings.
“Get dressed.”
I blinked.
“What?”
“We’re going to the station.”
“You just said it was after midnight.”
“You were convincing.”
“I thought you said I only believed what was convenient.”
“You do.”
My irritation returned immediately.
Cole moved toward the door.
“Five minutes.”
“I’m not taking orders from you.”
“Then take ten and complain the entire drive.”
For the first time, something almost like amusement passed across his face.
It disappeared before I could be certain.
“Get dressed, Harper.”
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