Chapter 11 Ryan #2
I let out a low laugh, launching another snowball that hit just below the bullseye. “Says the woman who got banned from karaoke night for ‘excessive mic flair.’”
Harper snorted beside me, trying to hide it behind her glove. Nina gasped like I’d slapped her with a snow shovel. “I was bringing life to a tired rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline.’ You’re just jealous.”
Shane didn’t miss a beat. “Flair, huh? Is that what they’re calling off-key screaming now?”
“You didn’t seem to mind when you were singing backup,” Nina shot back, eyes gleaming.
Shane smirked. “Somebody had to save the performance.”
Their banter earned a soft giggle from Harper–quiet and quick, like it slipped out before she could stop it.
She pressed her lips together to smother it, eyes still on Nina and Shane, and I found myself watching her instead of the game.
She wasn’t looking at me, but I was looking at her, and in that moment, it was like the rest of the festival had faded into the snow.
“So,” Shane said, clapping his hands together once, “everyone’s coming to the hockey Christmas party at the end of the month, right?”
Harper’s head tilted. “The what?”
Shane’s eyes lit up. “The hockey Christmas party. Biggest event of the year. No kids, catered dinner, open bar, fancy dresses, questionable dance moves. It’s been happening since I was a kid–back then it was potluck and beer in someone’s basement.
Now? It’s borderline black-tie and half the town still manages to wake up hungover. ”
“It’s wild,” Nina added with a knowing smile. “I already have my dress picked out. You’re definitely coming, Harper.”
Shane nodded toward me. “What about you, Barzal? Or are you gonna bail again like last year?”
I shrugged. “I hadn’t started coaching yet, last year. Didn’t really know anyone.”
“Yeah, well,” Shane said, “this year, no excuses. It’s tradition.”
Harper’s gaze met mine for the briefest moment, her lips curved just slightly, like she was holding back a smile.
The rest of the evening blurred in the best way–snow maze races, candy apple bribes, carnival games rigged beyond reason. Laughter echoed through the crisp air, their mittened hands sticky from cocoa and cotton candy.
The sky had started to darken, that deep indigo-blue settling over the town as the crowd made its way toward the beach. Kids ran ahead, laughter and boots crunching on packed snow, while parents followed at a more reasonable pace.
Connor and Liam were already halfway down the path, racing to claim the “best spot” like it was life or death.
Shane trailed behind them with a hot pretzel in one hand and zero sense of urgency, his tall frame moving at an unbothered pace.
His black jacket stood out against the snow-dusted ground, and his red hair practically glowed under the glow of the string lights, a beacon of laid-back chaos in the winter crowd.
Harper slid onto the blanket beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off her, though she kept just enough distance to avoid touching. Her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, where the sky was starting to deepen into twilight.
The space between us crackled with everything unsaid.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Neither did she.
The awareness between us thrummed, a quiet tension just under the surface. Like we were both tuned to the same frequency, pretending not to hear the static.
Her knee brushed against mine once, a shift of weight, and she pulled it back almost instantly. I told myself it was nothing. A coincidence. But it still sent a ripple through me.
The first firework exploded in the sky, a burst of red that lit up the beach in a flickering glow. Cheers went up from the crowd, but I barely noticed.
I glanced at Harper out of the corner of my eye.
The soft glow of the fireworks still lingered on her face, highlighting the gentle curve of her smile as she laughed at something Nina said to Liam.
There was warmth in her expression, but also something quieter–something careful, like she was constantly making sure everyone else was okay.
The last sparks fizzled into the night, and the crowd stirred, folding blankets, shaking out chairs, and murmuring about heading home.
Harper stood, brushing sand off her jeans, and I followed her lead.
Sitting next to her during the fireworks, feeling the warmth of her body so close to mine, had unraveled me completely.
I was a live wire, every nerve hyper aware of her.
“We should go check out the gingerbread competition,” Harper said, her voice light yet hopeful. “Connor will want to see if his house won.”
“Yeah,” I said, falling into step beside her.
Connor and Liam were already ahead of us, weaving through the crowd, with Nina and Shane trailing behind. Harper and I walked side by side, our arms brushing every so often–just enough to drive me insane, just enough to make me crave more.
By the time we reached the judging area, a small stage had been set up, with rows of gingerbread houses proudly displayed for the crowd. Right in the middle sat Connor’s creation, and I had to admit it looked damn good.
We arrived just as a woman with a clipboard–Margie, according to her name tag–stepped onto the stage to announce the winners.
“In third place, we have Frosty’s winter Wonderland!” she called, and a polite ripple of applause spread through the crowd.
Connor grabbed my sleeve, practically vibrating with excitement. “We’ve got this. I know we do.”
I grinned down at him. “You called it earlier, didn’t you?”
The second place winner was announced.
Connor held his breath, eyes wide and locked on the stage. I could feel the anticipation buzzing off him, like he needed this win more than just a ribbon and a gift bag.
“And first place goes to…” The pause felt cruel. “Team Sugar Shanty!”
Cheers erupted from the other side of the tent. Connor stood frozen, staring at the stage as if the words hadn't fully registered. Then his shoulders slumped, and he looked down at the snow between his boots.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper. “I thought we were gonna win. I messed it up.”
My stomach twisted. I crouched beside him, keeping my voice low. “Hey, what? No, Connor. You didn’t mess up anything.”
His eyes filled, blinking fast like he was trying to swallow it all down. “Dad always said if you don’t win, you lose. And losers… losers don’t get second chances. They’re failures.”
Jesus. I felt that like a gut punch.
I reached out, gently placing a hand on his shoulder.
“Connor, that house was amazing. You built something fun, creative, and you worked your butt off. You didn’t lose anything today–not really.
You just didn’t win this one contest. That doesn’t mean you failed.
And it definitely doesn’t mean you let anyone down. ”
His lower lip trembled. “But we tried so hard.”
I nodded. “And that matters more than you think. Winning’s great, but learning how to lose with grace–that’s what makes someone strong. You didn’t quit. You gave it your all. That’s what I’m proud of.”
He looked up at me then, his brows pinched like he was working through it in real time. Slowly, his shoulders uncurled and he nodded once. “Okay.”
I gave him a small smile. “Next time, I think we go with marshmallow shingles. That’s what did us in.”
Before Connor could answer, Shane sauntered over, shaking his head dramatically. “I did some recon,” he announced. “Turns out the winning house? Built by the judge’s granddaughter.”
Connor blinked. “Seriously?”
“Yup. Total scandal. I expect the town gossip page to be all over it by morning.” He crossed his arms, voice full of mock outrage. “I mean, the gumdrop symmetry on yours alone should’ve sealed the win. Travesty.”
Connor giggled, the sound a little hesitant at first–but real. “That’s not fair.”
“Life rarely is, my man,” Shane said solemnly, then leaned in. “But you know what is fair?”
Connor tilted his head.
Shane pulled a snowball from behind his back like a magician revealing a trick. “Snowball to the judge’s mailbox.”
Connor burst out laughing, loud and unfiltered, the way only a kid could.
Harper stepped beside me, looping her arm around Connor with a soft smile. “You okay, bud?”
He nodded, more confidently this time. “Yeah. We’ll get ‘em next year.”
She looked at me then, eyes lingering a little longer than necessary, her smile soft but full of meaning. I just gave a quiet nod, sliding my hand into my jacket pockets as I watched Connor lob the snowball–thankfully not at any mailbox, but square at Shane’s leg.
“What the hell, kid? I’m on your side!” Shane growled, grinning as he dove for cover behind a nearby bench. “Rookie mistake.”
Connor shrieked with laughter, already preparing another one. Liam jumped in without hesitation, pelting snowballs at both of them like a little wild man.
I watched it all unfold for a second, Harper’s quiet laughter beside me, the warmth of it curling low in my chest. She looked over, eyebrows raised. “You’re just going to stand there?”
I arched a brow. “What, and get destroyed by two ten-year-olds and their backup gremlin?”
Before she could reply, a snowball nailed me right in the shoulder.
“Oh, it’s on,” I muttered, bending down to pack my ammo. Connor squealed and darted behind a tree. And then it was chaos.
Snow flying everywhere, muffled laughter echoing between bursts of playful shrieks and poorly aimed throws.
Shane pretended to trip dramatically, Liam took him down with a victory cry, and Harper–well, she was sneakier than expected, landing a perfect hit right to the back of my neck while pretending to adjust her glove.
“Cold enough for you?” she called sweetly, a smirk tugging at her lips.
I turned slowly, eyes narrowing. “You realize this means war, right?”
She didn’t even try to run.