Chapter 14 Dawson
I’m smiling when I wake up on Saturday morning, still groggy from sleep. I keep my eyes closed for a minute, replaying all the events of last night before I get up, disturbing Harper and ruining the moment.
Talking with her on the couch, learning about her jewelry business, trying to stay focused on everything she was saying and not on the way her lips moved as she spoke.
Circling her wrist with my fingers, feeling her breathing in and out against my chest.
Making her drink water, reminding myself she wasn’t fully sober. Wondering how much of this she’d be willing to repeat when she is.
I was halfway through describing the importance of Don Cherry’s bow during the ’79 Stanley Cup semifinals when I realized she hadn’t asked a question in a while—she had a whole lot of questions about hockey for someone who supposedly wanted nothing to do with my team—and looked down to find her fast asleep on my chest.
I didn’t want to wake her. She looked so peaceful.
So I gradually tilted us to a slightly more comfortable napping position, pulled the quilt from the back of the couch over us, and did my best to stay awake so I could sneak off to crash somewhere else when she was fully under.
But I don’t think I lasted more than a few minutes.
It was a long day, and her quiet breathing in the dark relaxed me more than anything had in a while.
It’s a major jump scare when I open my eyes not to Harper but to Noah.
He’s sitting in an armchair a few feet away, clutching a steaming mug of coffee. He must’ve been up for a while, if he’s had enough time to figure out Ryan’s fancy espresso machine.
“Good morning?” I struggle upright, scrubbing a hand over my face.
Noah smirks at me. “Not who you expected?”
I struggle toward the kitchen, wrapping the quilt around my shoulders like a cape. My face is warm, and not just from sleep. Spending the night with Harper feels private. If Noah saw us together, I’m gonna need some coffee before I’m ready to debrief. “What do you mean by that?”
“I saw Harper leave the couch this morning.” Noah raises an eyebrow, and I feel weirdly like my captain’s calling me out for a mistake on the ice.
“Harper Braedon, public enemy number one? Why’d you even bring her, after everything she’s said about Coach?
” He shakes his head. “Not just bring her. You snuggled with her?”
I pour my mug full to the brim. Noah may be my captain, but he goes a little too far sometimes.
Suddenly I’m really glad he was too busy showing off his slapshot outside to pay much attention to Harper.
“Yeah, well, she’s not bad when you get to know her.
” I do my best to keep my voice level even though my cheeks are burning with defensiveness.
“Damn.” Noah whistles, face twisting in disgust. “Don’t you have better options to hook up with?”
“Oh, we didn’t,” I hurry to clarify, my face hotter than ever. “We just crashed. We’re not a thing.”
It’s the truth—all that happened was a long conversation, one I never wanted to end—but it doesn’t feel like the truth.
Harper and I connected last night. Telling Noah there’s nothing going on and letting his dig slide by unchallenged almost feels…
disloyal. I take a long gulp of coffee. When did Harper get so in my head?
Noah holds up his hands in the universal signal for okay, back off. “Whatever you say. You sure don’t need her bullshit.” I frown, about to argue more, but Noah’s already turning to grab ingredients from the fridge. “I’m gonna make protein shakes. I’ll save you some.”
And let the blender wake Ryan and whoever else crashed upstairs? But sure, whatever. I’m too distracted to rein Noah back in this morning.
“Yeah, thanks. Back in a minute.”
I slip on my shoes and coat and step outside.
It’s freeze-your-ass-to-the-bench cold, but I barely notice.
I’m too busy swiping open my phone and scrolling through my contacts until I find Harper’s name.
I could just text her—that would be the chill, normal option—but for some reason I need to hear her voice.
I need to know she’s doing okay. She was pretty drunk last night, and I want to be sure she’s all right and got home safe and—
Just dial, Dawson.
I press call before I can chicken out, holding my breath as the phone rings.
And rings. And rings.
Eventually, it clicks over to voicemail. “You’ve reached Harper Braedon,” her crisp, no-nonsense voice rings out. So different from the one that came out last night.
I hang up before leaving a message, head spinning.
Was that version of Harper real? Maybe she was just tipsy and I was the only one around and she said more than she wanted to.
Maybe she was horrified to wake up next to an entitled, egotistical jock.
Maybe she regrets everything that happened last night and wishes I’d leave her alone.
A few days ago, I would’ve wanted nothing more. But today the idea puts a pit deep in my stomach. The sky is gray and overcast, pressing down on me with a kind of oppressive hopelessness.
My fingers are losing feeling from clutching my phone and staring at its dark screen.
What, am I gonna stand out here all day in the vague hope she’ll call me back?
It’s freezing. Get yourself together, Dawson.
I don’t get involved with girls during the season, so what am I so upset about?
If anything, she’s doing me a favor by making it easier for me to stay focused today. I should be grateful.
Yeah. Grateful.
I head back in, tucking my phone in my pocket. Alex and Ryan are both up by now—maybe thanks to a blender as their alarm clock—and I join them in downing the moat-green shakes Noah’s lined up on the kitchen counter. I don’t even taste mine.
“All right, I gotta bounce,” Noah says, putting his glass down and heading for the door without a backward glance. “I have a call with my coach.”
I blink. “Dan?”
“Nah, with the Gamblers. A guy who actually knows the game.” He smirks. “See you guys at practice.”
My stomach turns, and it’s not just from the smoothie. When the door closes behind Noah, Alex turns to me with a frown. “You’re going to end up somewhere with a great coach too, Dawson. Don’t worry, okay? It would be criminal to waste your talent.”
For once, I wish Alex weren’t so damned perceptive.
“Yeah. I hope so.” I grab Noah’s glass and carry it to the sink along with my own so I don’t have to meet Alex’s eyes.
Before I can come up with a conversational distraction, though, Ryan’s waggling his eyebrows at me. “How did things go with you and Harper last night?”
The glass I’m holding almost shatters all over the kitchen floor. I grip it tighter just in time. “What do you mean?”
“We were just wondering… you know, you brought her… and last time we saw you, you were having a pretty intense conversation?” Alex is trying really, really hard to be casual, but he’s cracking his knuckles like he does when failing at sneakiness.
“Yeah. It’s whatever.” I turn on the faucet. “She’s cool.” But that’s probably the last I’ll see of her. The thought brings me pretty close to hurling up that smoothie.
I turn back around just in time to catch them shooting each other raised-eyebrow looks. “Anyway. You guys want to hit the gym? I gotta get back on track.”
Ryan groans, but he’s already chugging the rest of his glass. “No rest for the beautiful,” he says with a heavy sigh, and I do my best to laugh at the joke.
I might not have control over Dan’s calls, but the least I can do is keep myself in fighting shape. And maybe throwing some heavy things around will help me figure out how Harper got under my skin and what to do about it.
I spend an hour in the gym with the guys before going home to watch film of our last game. Somehow that turns into watching old tapes of my dad’s breakaways and scoping out our rivals’ social media. Northview just had a fucking great game, of course.
Even as I’m trying to distract myself, I can’t help thinking about Harper and her determination, the way she never gives up, the way she pours everything into her work. It makes me lift an extra set at the gym and draw up an even more intense schedule than usual for the week ahead.
I help my mom make dinner and do two loads of laundry. I drag Lindsey for her toxic relationship with Sara and evade her questions about how closing the restaurant went without her.
I stay busy. But it’s no use: even teasing Lindsey reminds me of Harper’s questions, and doing laundry makes me think about how Harper commented on how I smell, and I want to laugh and groan and rip my hair out at the way this girl has absolutely fucked with my mind in just a few days.
My head is still full of her words. I can feel the phantom warmth of her tucked under my arm. And no matter what I’m doing, I’m aware of the weight of my phone in my back pocket. But every time I swipe it open, my stomach sinks a little further.
I don’t hear from Harper all day.