Chapter 30 Ryan #2
“Hey there, gorgeous,” he drawled, leaning in far too close to Harper, his grin lazy and arrogant. “How about a dance?”
Harper leaned back slightly, her polite smile tight. “No, thank you.”
He smirked, eyes raking over her. “Come on… one dance. I promise I’ll make it worth your while.”
“No,” Harper said again, firmer this time.
He chuckled low, like she’d just set him a challenge.
“Don’t be like that. You’re too pretty to be sitting here wasting your night…
unless you’re saving yourself for coach over there.
” His smirk cut toward me. “He keeping your kid on the team for more than just hockey? I bet you’re real fun to be with. ”
Before I could even process it, Shanes’ voice came sharp. “She said no, buddy.”
Matt didn’t even glance at him. “Mind your business. I wasn’t talking to you.”
“You are now,” Shane said, his voice cool but loaded.
Matt turned back to Harper, his grin twisting meaner. “Sweetheart, I’m just trying to show you a good time. You look like you need a real man for once. Not some washed-up has been with anger issues.”
When he reached for her arm, brushing his fingers along her sleeve, something in me snapped.
I was on my feet before I even realized I’d moved, my legs bumping hard against the edge of the booth as I shoved myself upright. The sudden motion made the vinyl creak and the conversations at nearby tables falter into silence.
“For the last time, she said no.” My voice came out low, steady, dangerous.
Matt blinked up at me, swaying slightly, like it took his whiskey-soaked brain an extra second to catch up. “Oh, look at this, Ryan Barzal–Brookhaven’s little charity case who thinks he can throw his weight around. Is this the part where you lose your temper and swing?”
Shane was already on his feet beside me, arms crossed, looming. “Careful,” he warned, voice even. “You’re about two words away from regretting this.”
Matt let out a mocking laugh. “What, you two her bodyguards now? You think I’m scared of a couple washed-up jocks?”
From across the room, one of the hockey dads–Pete–pushed away from the bar. “You should be scared of making an even bigger ass of yourself, Matt. Walk away.”
Matt caught sight of him and let out a humourless laugh. “Wow, you’ve got the whole damn town lining up to play hero. You must have been making the rounds since you moved here.”
I took a step forward, ready to grab him by the collar and toss him out myself–until I caught something out of the corner of my eye.
Harper.
She had gone still. Not just tense, but stiff, like every muscle in her body had locked up. Her fingers curled into tight fists in her lap. And when I shifted slightly closer, she flinched.
It was small. Barely a movement. But it hit me harder than any punch ever could.
I froze.
The anger burning in my chest turned to something colder, heavier.
I forced my fists to unclench. Took a step back. Swallowed down the need to do something.
The bartender, a woman with a glare sharp enough to cut glass, was moving toward us. “Time to leave before you’re tossed.”
Matt’s sneer faltered. His gaze darted between us, weighing his odds. Finally, he muttered something under his breath and staggered back toward the bar.
I sank back into my seat, my body still tight with tension, and my pulse still thrumming with the urge to do something–anything–to make up for the way Harper had stiffened when I got too close.
The easy warmth she’d carried throughout the evening was gone, replaced by a quiet tension that gnawed at me. She sat rigid, her eyes fixed on the table like she was trying to pretend none of it had happened.
I exhaled slowly, forcing my hands back into my pockets. Forcing myself to shake off the feeling that I should’ve handled it differently.
That I should’ve done more.
But for the first time tonight, I wasn’t thinking about the guy I wanted to punch.
I was thinking about the girl I didn’t want to scare.
Nina leaned forward, eyes still locked on his retreating back, her expression stormy. “God, what an ass,” she muttered, voice low and vibrating with anger. Then, without missing a beat, she turned to Harper, her tone softening. “You okay?”
Harper managed a tight smile, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. Thanks.”
Her fingers curled around the bowl of her wine glass, but she didn’t take a sip.
Instead, pulled it close to her as she traced the rim absently with her other hand, her gaze fixed somewhere past us.
Nina muttered something cutting under her breath about men like Matt, sharp and protective in a way I didn’t quite understand.
Harper nodded, the corner of her mouth twitching up, but the smile was faint–distant.
Shane cracked a joke about drunk idiots at bars, and I forced a laugh, trying to play along, but my focus was entirely on Harper.
She was talking, even laughing at the right moments, but something was off. The way her shoulders stayed drawn tight. The flicker of something raw behind her eyes. The way she kept fidgeting with her glass, like if she stopped moving, whatever was inside her might spill over.
Nina kept the conversation moving, but I caught the way her gaze flicked to Harper every so often, like she was keeping tabs on her. Protective. Attentive. Like she knew exactly what Harper was feeling.
I didn’t.
But I could feel it.
A shadow had settled over her after that guy approached, and I hated that I didn’t know why. Hated that I hadn’t seen it coming. Hated that she’d flinched–at me–when all I’d wanted to do was protect her.
Harper shifted in her seat, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. Without thinking, I reached for her hand across the table, needing that connection, needing to ground both of us somehow.
She hesitated. Just for a fraction of a second–so quick I might’ve missed it if I hadn’t been watching her so closely.
Then, slowly, she let me take it.
Her fingers curled around mine, and I gave her hand a small squeeze, as if to say, I’m here. I’ve got you.
When her gaze met mine, something flickered there–gratitude, maybe. Or something heavier, something she wasn’t ready to put words to. It was gone almost as quickly as it appeared.
She gave me a small smile, but I could see the effort it took.
“You good, man?” Shane’s voice cut through my thoughts as he raised his beer.
“Yeah,” I lied. I leaned back and took a sip of my drink, trying to shove down the gnawing feeling in my gut.
But I wasn’t.
I’d been around long enough to know her ex wasn’t a good man. But I didn’t know the full story. Not yet. And the weight of what I didn’t know pressed on me harder than what I did.
It killed me that I couldn’t fix it. That I couldn’t just erase whatever scars he’d left on her.
Across the table, Nina leaned in, whispering something too quiet for me to catch. Whatever she said, Harper nodded, her smile softening just a little.
As Nina excused herself to use the washroom, I didn’t hesitate. I stood, leaving Shane’s side, and slid into the seat beside Harper. Her eyes flicked up in surprise, but before she could say anything, I draped my arm around her shoulder and pulled her close.
She didn’t resist–in fact, the moment my arm settled around her, I felt it. The exact second her muscles relaxed, the tension finally leaving her body after holding it in for far too long. It was subtle–just the softest exhale, barely audible–but I caught it.
And it hit me straight in the chest.
It was such a small gesture, yet it felt like the most important thing I could do in that moment.
My hand rested on her arm, my thumb brushing gently against her sleeve.
She didn’t have to say anything, and neither did I.
This was her letting go. This was me holding on.
My way of telling her I was here–for her, with her–no matter what.
I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, lingering for a second longer than necessary.
She tilted her head, her gaze meeting mine–soft, searching, full of something I couldn’t quite put into words.
I smiled down at her, and after a moment, she sighed–a quiet release of tension–before resting her head on my shoulder.
It was a quiet moment, but it spoke volumes.
The peace didn’t last long, though, because Nina returned, her sharp wit in full force. “Great,” she announced, hands on her hips. “I leave for two minutes and now I have to sit next to him?” She jabbed her thumb toward Shane, who smirked like he’d been waiting for this exact opportunity.
“You’re welcome,” Shane said, leaning back with exaggerated confidence. “Your night just got better.”
“Better?” Nina snorted. “Try unbearable.” She slid into the booth with a dramatic sigh. “Do you even know how to hold a normal conversation, or is it just flirting and bad jokes?”
“I'm versatile,” Shane quipped, his grin widening. “And you keep coming back, so I must be doing something right.”
The ridiculous banter filled the space, easy and familiar. And then–Harper laughed. It was soft at first, but then it grew into something real and warm–a genuine sound that made my chest ache in the best way. I glanced down at her, and she smiled up at me, as if to say, I’m okay.
I wanted to press, to ask her if she was really okay, but I knew this wasn’t the time or place. For now, having her this close was enough.