Chapter 18
I wake slowly, the warmth of sleep still clinging to me, but something feels… off.
For a moment, I don’t move. My eyes stay shut as I chase the hazy remnants of last night, grasping at the feeling of safety, of warmth, of Ryan’s arms around me. Of Connor tucked between us.
Was it a dream?
My chest tightens at the thought.
Maybe I imagined it–that perfect moment where, just for a little while, I didn’t have to be strong. Maybe I only dreamed of falling asleep in Ryan’s arms, of him holding me like I wasn’t too much, like I wasn’t a mess.
These thoughts unsettle me enough that I force my eyes open.
The couch is empty.
No Connor. No Ryan.
Panic grips at me as I sit up too fast, my head spinning. My eyes dart around the room, searching for any sign of them. The blankets are still piled on the couch, but they’re cold now, like they’ve been gone for a while.
Then I see it.
A piece of paper on the coffee table.
I reach for it, my pulse still erratic as I unfold it with shaky fingers.
Didn’t want to wake you. Connor and I ran out to grab breakfast–be back soon. Get some more sleep if you can. I know you need it. -Ryan
My entire body deflates in relief.
They’re fine.
I sink back against the couch, exhaling as I press the note against my knee. My fingers tremble slightly, and it’s only now that I realize how hard my heart is still pounding.
I think back to last night–to the way Ryan held me when I cried.
No one’s ever done that for me before.
I don’t even remember the last time I cried in front of someone. If I ever let myself break in front of Reid, he would mock me. Laugh, roll his eyes, call me weak and emotional like they were the worst things a person could be.
Ryan didn’t do that.
He didn’t tell me stop. Ryan didn’t try to brush it off or make me feel like I was overreacting. He just looked at me–really looked at me–and told me exactly what I needed to hear.
Then he held me, his arms steady and sure, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like I wasn’t too much.
A lump forms in my throat. A part of me feels embarrassed–what must he think of me now? That I’m a train wreck? A disaster?
He held me, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t thinking those things.
I stretch, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, then stand and take in the mess of blankets and pillows scattered around the living room.
Might as well tidy up.
I’m folding the last blanket when the front door swings open.
Connor bursts in first, my navy puffer jacket dusted with fresh snow is hanging slightly crooked on his small frame. His toque is pulled low over his ears, a few tufts of messy blond hair sticking out. His grin is so big it makes his eyes crinkle, pure excitement radiating off him.
Right behind him is Ryan, taller and broader in the doorway.
His dark grey coat is unzipped just enough to reveal the navy flannel beneath.
His hair is a little wild–like he’d run a hand through it on the walk over–and the bright blue of his eyes is even sharper against the cold flush in his cheeks.
He’s got a takeout bag in one hand and two steaming coffees in the other, moving with that easy, steady stride that always seems to ground the room.
Connor’s eyes light up when he spots me, “Mom! We got pancakes!”
I smile, heart squeezing as I take in the sight of them–both safe, both here.
Ryan smirks as he kicks the door shut behind him. “And coffee. Thought you might need it.”
I let out a soft laugh, shaking my head as I move toward them.
Yeah. I definitely do. But what I need even more?
This.
We sit around the kitchen table, the smell of buttery pancakes and fresh coffee lingering in the air.
The morning light filters through the frosted window above the sink, casting a pale gold glow over the scuffed wooden tabletop.
Outside, fat snowflakes drift lazily down, blurring the line where the yard meets the frozen pond.
But something isn’t right.
Connor has barely touched his breakfast. The plate in front of him is still stacked with pancakes, steam curling upward, syrup pooling around the edges.
He keeps flicking his gaze toward the window, then back to his plate, absently tearing off pieces of pancake and pressing them into syrup without eating them.
He’s quiet. Too quiet. The usual hum of morning chatter is missing, replaced by the faint tick of the clock above the stove and the distant muffled thump of snow sliding off the roof. And every motherly instinct in me is screaming that something’s wrong.
I set my mug down and lean forward. “Hey, bud. What’s up?”
Connor quickly shakes his head. “Nothing. I’m fine.”
But his voice is too small, too tight.
Ryan nudges him playfully. “You sure? You sore? Need anything?”
Connor doesn’t answer right away, just presses his lips together. Then I see it–the way his eyes shine, the way his throat bobs like he’s trying to keep something in.
I glance at Ryan, and his face has changed too. He sees it now.
Connor blinks fast, swiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Connor…” I say softly.
And that’s all it takes.
His face crumples, his small shoulders shaking as he bursts into tears.
“Oh, baby,” I whisper, immediately getting up and kneeling beside his chair, pulling him into my arms. He clutches onto me, his hands gripping my sweatshirt, and I hold him tight, rubbing his back, pressing kisses into his hair.
“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
My heart shatters.
“Hey, no, shh, it’s okay,” I whisper, smoothing his hair back, wiping his tears.
He pulls away just enough to look at me and Ryan, those green eyes–my eyes–red-rimmed and full of guilt.
“I just wanted to set the goalie nets up,” he says between sniffles. “I just walked on. I didn’t even have my skates. And then–the ice just–” His voice cracks. “It just caved under me, and I fell in. I don’t even remember how it happened.”
Tears sting my own eyes as I cup his face, brushing his damp cheeks with my thumbs. “Connor, listen to me. I don’t tell you to stay off the ice because I want to take the fun away. I just want to keep you safe.”
“I know,” he whispers. His chin trembles. “I’m sorry.”
Ryan reaches out, rubbing gentle circles on Connor’s back, his face soft, understanding.
And then Connor turns to him.
“I’m sorry you had to jump in after me.”
Ryan freezes for half a second, his brows furrowing, like he can’t believe what he just heard.
“Hey,” he says firmly, shifting his chair closer. “You don’t ever apologize for that.”
Connor sniffs, wiping his nose on his sleeve.
Ryan’s voice drops lower, steadier. “I didn’t even think, bud. I just ran. I jumped in. Because I’d do anything to keep you safe.”
Something thick lodges itself in my throat.
Because the way he says it, the way he looks at Connor–like nothing in the world matters more to him than making sure this little boy is okay–God, I don’t stand a chance.
Connor sniffs again, his hand gripping Ryan’s forearm. “Thanks, Ryan.”
Ryan smiles softly, ruffling Connor’s hair.
And that’s when I know–without a doubt–that Ryan is so much more than just a friend to Connor.
And he might just be becoming so much more to me, too.
The mood around the kitchen table has shifted completely.
Connor is finally digging into his pancakes like he hasn’t eaten in days, and Ryan–God help him–has him cracking up between every bite.
Ryan leans back in his chair, twirling his fork between his fingers. “Okay, but seriously, did you see my dive, though? Olympic-level right?”
Connor nearly chokes on his orange juice from laughing. “More like belly-flop level probably.”
Ryan puts a hand over his heart. “Wow. Brutal. I risk my life for you and this is the thanks I get?”
Connor grins. “Sorry, Ry. But I’m pretty sure you did kind of flop.”
I shake my head, smiling into my coffee. “You did.”
Ryan gasps, feigning betrayal. “Not you too!”
The teasing and laughter fill the space like sunlight, pushing away the heaviness from earlier. And just when I think this morning can’t possible get any better, there’s a quick knock at the door before it swings open.
Nina and Liam step inside.
“Heyyy!” Connor shouts, hopping down from his chair. “Liam!”
Liam beams. “Dude, we got a new game for you.”
Nina gives me a knowing look before shifting her attention to Connor. “Liam insisted we stop at the store first thing this morning,” she says, setting a bag on the counter. “Figured you could use something fun after the other day.”
Connor’s eyes go wide. “For me?”
Liam nods. “Yeah! Wanna play?”
Connor spins toward me, already bouncing on his feet. “Mom, can we?”
I laugh, nodding. “Of course.”
Connor turns back to Liam, throwing his arms around him in a quick hug. “Thanks, dude! Thanks, Nina!”
Nina ruffles his hair. “Anytime, kid.”
The boys take off upstairs, leaving me alone with Ryan and Nina.
Nina crosses her arms, raising an eyebrow at us. “Well, well, well.”
I sigh, already knowing where this is going.
Ryan pushes back from the table and stands. “Alright, that’s my cue.”
He grabs the last few dishes from the table and carries them to the sink, rinsing them off like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Then he turns to me. “I’ll see you later?”
“Yeah,” I say, ignoring Nina’s smug look.
Ryan smirks and heads toward the stairs. “Gotta say bye to my boys first.”
My boys.
My heart does something stupid at that.
Nina watches him disappear upstairs, then slowly turns to me, her grin growing by the second.
I hold up a hand before she can even start. “Just don’t.”
She lets out a laugh, shaking her head. “Oh, Harper. You are so screwed.”
I groan loudly and drop my head onto the table with a dramatic thud.
“Uggghhhhh, I know!” I say, my voice muffled against the wood. “Why is he like this?! I can’t do this right now, Nina.”
She laughs, reaching over to pat my back. “Oh, sweetheart, you so can.”
I lift my head just enough to glare at her. “Not helping.”
She just grins and opens her mouth to say something else. My eyes flick past her shoulder and my stomach drops.
Ryan.
He’s coming down the stairs.
My eyes widen in panic, and I shake my head frantically, silently pleading with Nina to shut up, for the love of God.
Her smirk is barely contained as Ryan steps past her, catching my eye with a quick nod before heading for the door.
The second it clicks shut behind him, I exhale a breath and slump back into my chair.
Nina raises an eyebrow. “I really don’t understand why this is such a big deal.”
I rub a hand down my face. “Because it’s not that simple.”
Nina scoffs. “Sure it is. Ryan’s great, you’re great. Just quit toeing around this and get-together already.”
I shake my head. “It’s not that easy, Nina.”
Her teasing expression fades, replaced by something softer. She hesitates for a moment, then asks quietly, “Does this have anything to do with Connor’s dad?”
I freeze.
She watches me carefully. “You got really freaked out when Chief Dawson asked if they should call him.”
My throat tightens. I swallow hard, but it doesn’t help.
Nina doesn’t push. She just reaches for my hand, giving it a small squeeze. “You don’t have to tell me anything,” she says gently. “I just want you to know I’m here. Okay?”
I nod, my fingers tightening around hers for a second before letting go. Then I take a deep breath and gulp down some water, trying to steady myself.
If anyone would understand, it was Nina.
She had been through so much–raising Liam practically on her own, dealing with everything her sister put her through. She knew what it was like to carry more weight than she should have, to put someone else’s needs ahead of her own. She would never judge me.
She had opened up to me in a way she rarely did the other night, letting me see the weight she carried every day. If she trusted me with her story, then I owed her the same.
I met her eyes, my heart pounding in my chest. And then, I told her.
I told her about Reid–not the polished version I used to show the world, but the real one. I told her how the man I thought I loved had slowly chipped away at me, piece by piece. How the charm that once made me fall for him turned into a weapon he used to control me.
I told her about the subtle manipulation at first–cutting remarks disguised as jokes, the way he isolated me from friends and family, making me feel like I had no one except for him.
Then how it escalated into shouting, threats, and finally the moments I try not to relive–the ones where his anger left bruises.
I explained how, for so long, I convinced myself to stay for Connor’s sake.
Told myself that Reid would change, that it wasn’t always like this.
Until one day, I looked at Connor and realized that staying wasn’t protecting him–it was teaching him.
Teaching him that love looked like control.
That silence meant safety. That fear was normal. And I couldn’t let that happen.
So I told Nina about the night I left. About the fear and the relief that hit me in equal measure as I packed a bag, took Connor, and walked out the door without looking back.
She didn’t interrupt, didn’t ask questions. She just listened, her hand gripping mine tightly as the words poured out.
By the time I finished, my throat felt raw, and my chest felt lighter but still tender, like I’d torn off a bandage too soon. Nina’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she pulled me into a hug, her embrace fierce and unwavering.
“Harper,” she said softly, her voice thick with emotion. “You didn’t just survive that. You rose above it. You’re a damn warrior, and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
Her words hit something deep inside me, and I blinked back tears as I hugged her tighter.
“Thanks,” I whispered, my voice shaky but steady enough.