Chapter Thirteen Harrison
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
HARRISON
The locker room smells like stick tape, hockey gear, and, if I’m being honest, ass. Guys are pulling on gear, chirping across benches, music thumping low in the background. It’s energized chaos and it’s always like this before a game. Today should feel routine.
But it doesn’t.
Because Harper and Connor are coming to the game tonight and that’s all new for me. I can’t make any sense out of what I’ve been feeling other than I’m just fucking excited for them to be here watching me play.
And dammit, I really want to kiss Harper.
I just have to figure out a way to do it not in front of Connor.
The last thing I want to do is upset him or ruin the experience of coming to the game, but part of me is ready to let Harper know how I feel.
Or at least show her.
I’m halfway through taping my stick when Oliver flops down beside me, elbows braced on his knees, grin already loaded like a weapon. Whatever’s about to come out of his mouth, it can’t be good.
“So,” he says casually, “I hear we’ve got special guests tonight.”
I don’t look up. “Yep.”
Ledger snorts from across the room. “That’s not the denial I expected.”
Griffin swivels in front of his stall. “Connor and Harper, right?”
Barrett looks up from adjusting his pads. “Wait, for real? Your girl is coming tonight? And she’s bringing the kid?”
“The Harper,” Bodhi says, eyes lighting up like Christmas. “The one who makes Meers weak in the knees. The one who makes his jock strap super uncomfortable.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, but I’m smiling despite myself because he’s not wrong.
August—ever the instigator—leans back against his locker, arms crossed. “Alright, important question.”
Oh, here it comes.
“Have you kissed her yet?”
The room goes dead quiet.
Six sets of eyes swing to me.
I clear my throat. “No.”
Barrett drops his helmet onto the bench. “You’re telling me the woman you’ve been quietly losing your mind over for weeks—”
“Uh, make that years, Bear,” Ledger corrects him, raising his hand like he’s in a fucking classroom.
“Right. Years.” Bear nods. “She’s coming to the game with your kid and you haven’t kissed her yet?”
“It hasn’t—” I stop and try to reframe my thought. “I just haven’t found the right moment.”
Ledger squints. “Buddy. If this isn’t the moment tonight, I don’t know what is. We’re going to win this game and you’ve got to kiss your girl.”
Bodhi grins. “You planning on kissing her on the jumbotron? Because I’d pay money to see that.”
“Absolutely not, perv,” I say quickly. “I can’t do that to Connor.”
Griffin laughs. “What about after the game? You skate over, lean on the glass, dramatic eye contact—”
Oliver cuts in. “Nah. Too public.”
August raises a finger. “Tunnel kiss. Classic. Intimate. Semi-private.”
Barrett shakes his head. “Nah, man. Parking lot. Night air. Adrenaline still buzzing. That’s where the magic happens.” He wags his brows. “In the dark.”
“Why is everyone so invested in this?” I ask, only semi-annoyed.
Ledger shrugs. “Because you’ve been in love with this woman for a fucking long time and you deserve a win off the ice.”
That shuts me up for a second.
I exhale, tugging my gloves on tighter than necessary. “I don’t know. I just…don’t want to screw it up.”
The teasing softens. Just a notch.
August steps closer. “You won’t.”
Bodhi nods. “She wouldn’t be coming if she didn’t want to be here.”
Barrett smirks. “And if she didn’t want you. She’s not coming for the game dumbass. She’s coming for you.”
I glance at my stick, then back up. “I think…if it happens, it happens. No big production.”
Oliver snorts. “That’s a lie.”
“Okay,” I admit. “I’ve thought about it.”
“Thought about what?” Ledger asks.
I hesitate, then shrug. “Just…seeing her smile at me after the game. Connor buzzing. Everything loud and perfect. And maybe, just maybe, I lean in and see if she meets me halfway.”
The room goes quiet again.
Then Bodhi claps his hands. “Gentlemen. He’s down bad.”
“Deep,” Griffin adds.
Barrett grins. “I give it thirty seconds after the final horn.”
I shake my head, but my chest is warm and tight and buzzing all at once. “We’ll see.”
August smirks. “Oh, we’ll see.”
The coach calls for us to hit the ice, and as I stand, Oliver bumps my shoulder.
“Hey, Meers?”
“Yeah?”
He grins. “If today’s the day, don’t overthink it. Just fucking go for it.”
I nod once.
Because he’s right.
And because somewhere out there, Harper’s going to be in the stands. Connor’s going to be cheering.
And for the first time in a long time…
I want more than just the win.
The air inside the arena buzzes like electricity trapped under the rafters.
It’s one of those nights where everything feels sharper.
The skates, the slapshots, the adrenaline pumping like jet fuel.
I step onto the ice and immediately feel the thrill coursing through my veins, electric and intoxicating.
The crowd is alive, roaring like a tidal wave, and I can see the sea of jerseys, fans of the Anaheim Stars and the Cincinnati Scavengers.
My heart pounds in rhythm with the anticipation swelling around me.
We need this win. I want this win so badly I can taste it, but that’s not the only thing that makes my heart pound.
When we skate out for warmups and I round the far corner of the rink, I catch sight of three faces pressed to the glass.
Antoni waving like he’s trying to flag down a rescue helicopter; Connor bouncing in front of his seat, both palms flattened to the glass; and Harper looking right at me.
I lock eyes with her for a split second, and it’s like the world narrows down to just us in this massive arena.
There’s a warmth in her expression that melts away the tension in my shoulders.
I can’t remember the last time I felt this alive, this connected.
God, she looks radiant, her eyes sparkling with pride and something else, something that makes my stomach flip.
Her smile flickers and it hits me so damn hard I nearly miss the puck Oliver fires toward my stick.
I lift a hand subtly, a small wave meant just for her, and her lips part like I surprised her. I kind of like that I still can.
“Are you seriously going to wave at her every time you skate by?” Ledger teases, a smirk tugging at his lips.
I roll my eyes, unable to suppress a smile. “Shut up. It was just a little wave.”
“A little wave?” Griffin scoffs, feigning a dramatic swoon. “It was a full-on ‘I love you’ gesture.”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “You guys are ridiculous.”
“This is your first game back in front of your son and your girl, man,” Ledger says, nudging me with his elbow. “Your girl! The only one I’ve ever heard you talk about. Ever.”
“Like seriously, ever, man,” Griffin confirms. “Cut yourself some slack. Allow yourself to feel it.” He nudges me with his elbow. “And enjoy it.”
“It’s a big deal,” Barrett adds from the net, his tone suddenly serious. “Having them here, I mean. Do you think Connor is going to freak out seeing you play for the first time?”
Griffin smirks, leaning against his stick as he takes a breather. “The kid has your jersey, man. That’s a whole new level of fandom.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “I know he’s pumped.” My heart races at the thought. “I want him to see me as someone he can look up to, not just some guy who shows up occasionally.”
I can’t help but feel the anticipation bubbling inside me, matching the roar of the crowd.
I share a look with Connor through the glass, and he nods excitedly, eyes wide with awe.
Fuck, he looks just like me in my jersey.
The sight warms my chest, filling me with a wild mix of pride and fierce protectiveness.
He’s in it for the experience, to soak up the magic of the game, and that’s all I want for him tonight.
I, on the other hand, I’m in it for so much more.
“Look at him,” Ledger says, nudging me again as I watch Connor bounce up and down. “I can’t wait for my kids to get to game-excitement age. You know this is going to be one of those nights where Connor remembers everything, right?”
I try to keep my focus on the ice, but I steal another glance at Harper, her expression equally lit with excitement.
The way she’s watching me, leaning forward, like she’s ready to catch every moment, sends a rush of adrenaline coursing through me just like it used to back in our college days.
Moments like these, under the bright lights with the crowd cheering, remind me of every reason I fell in love with the game and with her.
“Let’s make it count, gentlemen,” I say, more to myself than to anyone else. I take a deep breath, letting the smell of the ice and the sound of the crowd seep into my bones, grounding me.
The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of warmups, and I take a deep breath, focusing on the task ahead.
We head back to the tunnel and take our spots as the music in the arena dies down.
The lights drop all at once, plunging the room into darkness.
Thirty thousand people suck in a breath at the same time, and for a heartbeat everything is still.
Then—
BOOM.
Spotlights burst to life, slicing through the dark in bright blue and gold. Music blasts from the speakers, something bass-heavy that rattles my ribcage even through my padding.
And there she is.
Lumin in all her shooting star glory.
Ella—August’s wife—bounding onto the ice in that massive, shimmering, mascot suit, her arms thrown wide like she’s greeting a universe full of fans. The crowd goes insane. Kids leap out of their seats. Grown adults lose their minds.
She skates like she was born to do it, quick little zig-zag cuts, the big gleaming head bobbing with every step. At center ice, she does a dramatic spin, her tail whipping this way and that, raising her magic wand and throwing glitter—actual glitter—into the air with both hands.
Glitter.
On the ice.
Barrett is going to have a stroke.