Chapter Fourteen Harper
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
HARPER
The bleachers are freezing, the way all hockey rinks are, but I’m warm.
Uncomfortably warm.
Because Harrison Meers is sitting beside me, his thigh brushing mine every time he shifts, and my heart hasn’t remembered how to behave since the moment he walked in wearing that beanie and that stupidly unfair smile.
Below us, Connor flies across the ice with his line, jaw set in pure determination.
He’s in full ten-year-old I’m-a-legend mode this afternoon.
“Here he goes,” Harrison murmurs, leaning forward with his forearms on his knees.
Connor winds up. Shoots. Scores.
We both jump to our feet, cheering.
“That’a boy Connor! Let’s GO!” Harrison whistles while I jump up and down, clapping in excitement. Connor skates by the boards directly in front of us, pointing with his stick and shouting loud enough for the next three rinks to hear, “THAT’S FOR THE GUY WHO KISSED MY MOM!”
The parents around us whip their heads toward me and now all I want to do is crawl into my jacket. But Harrison? He just grins, because of course he does. It’s the kind of grin that hits slowly too, like he can’t stop it.
Like he doesn’t want to stop it.
“Oh my God,” I groan, covering my face. “He told everyone. He told literally everyone.”
Harrison bumps my shoulder gently. “He’s proud of himself. And…maybe a little proud of us.”
“Us,” I echo, stomach flipping too fast for comfort. “Is that what we are?”
His smile falters. Not in a bad way. More like in a this matters way. “We’re something,” he says softly. “Something I’m not trying to pretend away. Something I’m not begging to label right away either.”
My chest squeezes. He says it so easily, like he’s sure. I wish I could borrow even an ounce of that confidence.
Connor’s line takes the bench, and the buzz of the crowd dips into a steady hum. The moment stretches warm and quiet between us, but underneath it, the anxiety curled in my ribs starts to rise.
Because in two days, Harrison leaves.
Ten days on the east coast.
Ten days of time zones and late practices and morning skates and the quiet space where someone could change their mind about us being…something.
I force a smile and sip from my coffee, hoping the cup hides how tightly my jaw is clenched. Harrison shifts closer, close enough that his shoulder presses into mine again. “You okay?” he asks, low enough that only I can hear.
“I’m fine,” I lie, eyes glued to the ice.
He tilts his head. “You’re worrying.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Harp. We may not have been together these last ten years, but I haven’t forgotten everything. I know you.” He finally turns his head to look at me. “And I feel your anxiety.”
“Well, yeah, I’m anxious about Connor’s defense. Obviously.” I wave at the ice. “Look at him leaving the slot wide open—”
Harrison chuckles softly. “He’s not even on the ice, Harp.”
Ugh.
Fuck.
This is one of those times when I wish he wasn’t so perceptive. Why does he have to pay attention to every little thing? Why does he have to be so clued into me?
“Hey.”
“Hmm?”
“Talk to me.” He tilts my chin with his finger until my eyes meet his. “Please.”
I swallow hard and aim for the truth. “You’re leaving soon, H,” I admit, voice barely above the scrape of skates below. “And I know it’s stupid because it’s your job and it’s normal but…we just…you know…”
“Kissed?”
“Yeah.” I nod. “And now we’re figuring out whatever this is between us, and now you’ll be gone and I’ll be here overthinking everything, and…and you might also overthink every—”
“I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is gentle, but it doesn’t keep my cheeks from flooding with heat.
“You’re literally going to Boston,” I mutter like a sad little girl.
“You know what I mean.” He nudges me again. “I don’t bail when things matter. And this…” His hand brushes mine. Not a grab. Just enough of a squeeze to promise, “It matters.”
“But how do I know you’re not going to bail?”
He shrugs innocently. “Well…”
“I know, I know. I didn’t give you the chance to prove it years ago.” There I said it. I said the words so he didn’t have to.
“I was going to say you’ll just have to trust me.” He leans over and kisses me tenderly on the side of my head, his hand covering my thigh. “You just walked back into my life, Harp. If you think I’m going to let this go so easily now, then you don’t know me at all.”
My breath catches because I know he’s sincere.
I can see it in the way he looks at me. I wish I could allow myself to simply trust fall into whatever this might become, but I’m scared.
There’s a gigantic ten-year wall between us that is slowly dismantling thanks to Harrison’s patience, his gentleness when he’s with me, and his confirmation that Connor and I matter to him.
But that doesn’t mean things won’t change. He could meet someone else.
Someone prettier.
Someone more responsible.
Someone who’s never been dishonest with him.
And then where does that leave me?
And more importantly, where does that leave Connor?
On the ice, a whistle blows and Connor hops over the boards again, skating like he owns the world. I watch him glide back onto the ice, his confidence soaring with every stride.
“God, it’s like watching a miniature version of you, the way he holds his stick and the fierce determination in his eyes,” I say with Harrison next to me.
I can’t help but smile, a mix of pride and nostalgia swelling in my chest. “He’s so determined to be just like you.
It’s like somewhere in his little soul…he knows. ”
Harrison looks on with the same amount of pride, but he does so in silence. And then out of nowhere he says, “Promise me you won’t tell him.”
“What?” I turn my head and wait for his eyes to find mine.
“At least not until I’m with you,” he adds. “Please don’t tell him without me.”
Despite the fluttering anxiety in my stomach, I nod. “I promise.”
The tension in his shoulders eases just a fraction and there’s a fight in his eyes to hold back everything he’s feeling. “We can take our time,” I assure him. “When the moment is right, we’ll find the right way to do this. Together.”
He nods, inhaling a deep breath and letting it out. “Yeah. Okay.”
Connor swoops by again, this time getting too close to the goalie, who swats at him with the butt-end of his stick, sending Connor tumbling. “Whoa!” I shout, but he bounces back up, shaking himself off like a pro.
“Let’s go, bud! Keep your head up!” Harrison shouts, the words bursting from him before he probably even realizes he’s leaning over the railing, fully invested. The crowd cheers around us, but his focus is entirely on Connor. “The kid’s going to be a fucking star, Harp. You just wait.”
The second Connor steps out of the locker room, he launches himself at Harrison like a missile.
“DID YOU SEE MY GOAL? The top-shelf one? And the pass? And the part where that kid totally tripped me but I didn’t even fall because my balance is, like, superior?”
Harrison staggers back a step as Connor grabs both sides of his shirt, shaking him with excitement. “I saw all of it, bud,” he says, laughing. “Pretty sure the whole building saw all of it.”
Connor beams so big his helmet hair practically lifts. “Coach said I’m improving majorly. He said my stride looks like a real player now. He said—”
“I’m sure he said a lot of things,” I cut in gently, because Connor hasn’t taken a breath since the locker room opened. “Let’s let Harrison breathe, okay?”
“He doesn’t need to breathe,” Connor says, shrugging. “He’s basically a hockey machine.”
Harrison grins down at him. “I’ll take it.”
We walk through the arena lobby together, Connor practically glued to his side, peppering him with questions.
“Do you think I should practice my wrist shot more? Should I work out this summer? When did you know you were good enough for pro hockey? What if I never get good enough? What if—”
“Connor,” Harrison interrupts gently, ruffling his hair. “One question at a time, bud. And maybe…maybe save some questions for tomorrow? I’m pretty sure your mom is all hockey-d out. Look at her,” he teases, gesturing to me. “I think she needs food and a nap.”
I sigh, playing along. “A nap sounds heavenly right now.”
Connor laughs, skipping between us like a kid half his age. “Fine. But I get shotgun in Harrison’s car!”
“We’re going to the same place,” I remind him, pulling my keys from my purse.
“Still counts!”
Outside, the sun is shining brightly and the air is warm against my skin. The parking lot is buzzing with parents and players, all riding the high of a win, and Connor darts toward Harrison’s SUV.
He throws open the passenger door and hops in, chattering about line changes to absolutely no one because the car is still off. I’m about to step over to my car when Harrison’s hand slides gently around my wrist.
“Hey,” he says quietly.
He guides me just behind the SUV, out of sight from the stream of people exiting the arena. The sounds slip away as he steps close enough that I can see the gray flecks in his eyes and the stubble on his jaw.
“What are you—”
Before I can finish, he tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, leans in, and kisses me.
Quick, but not rushed.
Warm enough to melt every anxious thought I had during the game.
His mouth brushes mine once…then again, slower. More deliberate. Like he’s telling me something without saying it. When he pulls back, his forehead rests against mine. His breath is soft and warm.
“Still here,” he murmurs. “Not going anywhere.”
The words land deep. Right in that terrified place in my chest that’s been bracing for him to change his mind. I swallow, and the back of my eyes sting. “You shouldn’t say things like that if you don’t mean them.”
“I don’t say things I don’t mean.” He lifts my chin with a finger, eyes steady on mine. “Especially to you. You know that.”
There’s a shout from inside the car.