Chapter 65

Harper's POV

Why aren’t they asking about Mark? Why haven’t they brought up my face or demanded to know what happened? Their restraint unnerves me more than if they had just come at me all at once. It scratches at the edges of my nerves, this heavy, polite silence that only seems to exist because they are waiting for something. Waiting for me to speak. Or maybe waiting for the perfect moment to unravel me.

The jacket I wore itches along the inside of my arms, and I can’t tell if it’s actually uncomfortable or if it’s just the anxiety threading itself beneath my skin again. I shrug out of it, fold it over the chair beside me, and rest my arms on my legs. My eyes drop to the plate again, but the food blurs.

I can’t do this.

“I would rather you just said whatever it is you’re waiting to say,” I say quietly, the words