Chapter 47 A Sour Melody

• *Harper*
• My third cup of coffee sits half-finished on the table, paint still clinging to the edges of my nails from a morning spent lost in my latest piece. McKenzy’s out running errands, the apartment is quiet, and I’m riding the kind of creative high that only comes when everything just clicks.
• I’m about to dip my brush into a streak of deep teal when my phone buzzes. I grab it without thinking, expecting McKenzy or Scott or maybe one of the guys.