Chapter 19 Harrison #2
Harper stands close to me, her hand brushing mine as we wait for the bartender.
She’s wearing jeans that should be illegal and a soft black top that makes me forget at least three plays from last season.
I scan the crowd, taking in the laughter and the raucous energy buzzing around me.
This is my territory. My kind of chaos. And yet, amid the familiar faces of teammates and their partners, I only have eyes for one person.
“Can I get you a drink?” I ask Harper as her fingers wrap around my hand like she’s anchoring herself to this moment.
“Just a water for now,” she replies, and I nod, because that’s fair. We’ve both been thrown into new territory, and she puts on a brave face, but I can see the nerves swirling underneath. As we approach the bar, I try to project calmness.
“Coming right up.” I give our order to the bartender and then turn my attention back to Harper. She looks beautiful, the kind of beautiful that makes my chest tighten. The way she carries herself—confident but still a little shy—only makes me want to hold her closer.
I lean in. “You okay?”
She smiles up at me. “Are you asking because I’m on a date with you, or because I’m surrounded by professional athletes with zero volume control?”
“If you only knew how valid both of those concerns are.” She laughs, squeezing my hand, and I feel it like a win. “You know I’m around these types all the time, right? It’s sort of in my job description.”
“You’re right. You are. No need for me to worry then. You ready to meet the crew?” I ask, half teasing, half serious.
“Am I?” she counters, glancing over her shoulder at the group. “It’s definitely a lot of first impressions all at once.”
“I promise they’re all friendly. Well, mostly,” I chuckle, recalling some of Barrett’s crabby antics.
We grab a high-top near the back, everyone crammed around it, drinks everywhere. August and Ella are already mid-argument about whose turn it is to pick the music.
“I picked last time,” August says.
“That was three weeks ago,” Ella counters. “And you chose sad indie rock.”
“It has depth.”
Barrett slides in beside me, Blakely at his side, and smirks. “So, Meers,” he says, loud enough for half the table to hear, “is this an official date or are we still pretending?”
Harper’s eyebrow arches instantly, but I don’t miss a beat. “It’s a date.” Her fingers curl into mine under the table, subtle but deliberate.
Blakely grins. “About damn time. I’m Blakely by the way.”
Harper reaches her hand over to Blakely. “Harper. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” she says, smiling. She gestures to the other ladies standing around the table. “This is Ella, Corrigan, Layken, Scarlett, and Marlee. We’re the WAGS.”
“Welcome to the club,” Ella says, raising a glass. “We’re always in need of new ladies in our group to help with this riffraff.” She rolls her eyes playfully as she gestures to the guys.
Harper laughs. “Well, I don’t know how much help I’ll be but thank you for the welcome.”
I can’t help but smile as Harper chats with the other women, her laughter ringing like a melody amid the noise, her confidence shining in the warm glow of the bar lights.
It’s surreal to see her in this context, surrounded by a bunch of hockey wives and girlfriends, talking easily as if she’s always belonged here.
I catch snippets of their conversation, their teasing banter, the way they rally around each other, how they openly talk about the ups and downs of life with hockey players.
It feels like a glimpse into a world I wasn’t sure I’d ever have.
I lean back against the high-top, a beer in hand, and watch her.
The sight of her so comfortable, so at ease as she hangs with the ladies makes my chest tighten.
There’s a heaviness in my stomach, a whisper of anxiety that tries to creep in, but I push it away.
This is part of moving forward, right? She deserves this space, and so do I.
“Yes! Exactly! That’s what I’m saying!” Harper’s laughter pulls me from my thoughts like a bright note cutting through the chaos around us.
There’s a warmth in the way she gestures, her hands animated, eyes sparkling with energy.
The ladies lean in closer, hanging on her words, and I feel a surge of pride swelling in my chest.
She fits here. She really does.
“Are you just going to stare at her all night?” Barrett nudges my shoulder.
I grin, shaking my head. “Not just staring. I’m appreciating.”
“Appreciating, huh? Do you need a minute alone?” he asks with amusement in his voice.
“Or a solo trip to the bathroom?” August chimes in.
“Very funny.” I sip my beer, feigning nonchalance.
But the truth is, I’m terrified. This is the first time I’ve seen her like this since college, and now she’s enveloped in the chaos of my adult hockey world.
Now she’s with women who know the ins and outs of the game and the lives that come with it.
It’s a lot. I know Harper knows that. She knew it back in college and she knows it even more now given her profession, but for the first time I’m actually feeling it.
The push and pull between hockey life and just wanting to spend time with my new family.
The family I’ve never had.
Until now.
“I’m just…enjoying the view.”
“The way you’re looking at her already tells me she’s a keeper,” Barrett says, lowering his voice.
“She is.” I catch Barrett’s eye, and he gives me a cheeky grin that only makes me laugh.
Ledger raises his glass. “To Harrison finally getting his shit together.”
“Rude,” I mutter.
“Accurate, though.” Marlee laughs. “We’re happy for you, Meers.”
Harper leans closer to me, her lips just brushing my ear. “They always like this?”
I nod. “Worse after the second round.”
As if on cue, Bodhi slams a tray of shots on the table. “Team tradition!”
Corrigan sighs. “I hate this tradition.”
“When did this become a tradition, again?” Scarlett asks with a furrowed brow.
“It’s not,” Layken says with a laugh. “Bodhi is just being Bodhi.”
Harper eyes the shot glass. “What happens if I say no?”
“You get judged silently,” Griffin says. “But lovingly of course. Why? Is there a…” He clears his throat. “A reason you wouldn’t want a drink?”
The ladies catch on to whatever Griffin is saying because their brows all shoot up and Ella squeals. “Oh, my gosh! Is there? Are you off the juice for nine months?”
Nine months?
Holy fuck.
Harper’s pregnant?
My head whips her direction so fast I very nearly lose my balance.
Harper chokes on her water, coughing as it slides down the wrong hole. “What? No! No!” she exclaims, shaking her head with laughter. “Not at all. I’ll take the shot. Hand it over.” The ladies laugh and she chuckles softly before she downs the short drink with barely a wince.
“Wow. Impressive.” I wink.
She shrugs. “I grew up around athletes. You know my brother.. You’ve met him. He’s in the NFL now, by the way, so trust me, I’ve had my fair share of drinks. Besides, I’ve seen you drink an entire team under the table and live to tell the tale.”
“Your brother’s in the NFL?” I ask dumbfounded. “Why didn’t I ever know this?”
She shrugs playing coy all of a sudden. “Second year. I got him a spot with Miami.”
“No shit!”
She smiles proudly. “Yep.”
“Drinking a team under the table, that’s a bold claim,” Roche says, nodding in appreciation. “Should we see if you’re still as good as you once were, old man?”
“Fuck you very much, Bodhi, but I think I’ll pass this time. A man knows his limits and tonight his limit is one. I have to get my girl home safely.”
I take a moment to try to slow my heartbeat from the impending freak out I was about to have thinking that Harper could be pregnant. Not that having a family with her isn’t something I want, because it absolutely is, but I’d like to sort out the family I have before I add to it.
God, I’m such an asshole.
I didn’t use any protection the night I found her in my bed. I just…fucking went for it like some sort of starved beast who couldn’t keep himself under control.
“Harp…” I turn to her in a silent moment just for us, but she squeezes my hand almost as if she was waiting for me to say something to her.
“I’m not pregnant, H,” she assures me. “You can calm the thoughts running through your mind now, okay? Everything is fine.”
“But I owe you an apology. I didn’t even think of using pro—”
“And I would’ve refused it anyway.” She leans in closer, whispering in my ear, “I wanted you that night every bit as much as you wanted me. So, stop worrying and feeling regretful or you’re going to make me feel like I was a mistake for you.”
I shake my head, my eyes meeting hers. “Never, Harp. You never were and never will be a mistake. You’re my life. Always have been.”
“Okay then. We’re good. Everything is fine.” She shrugs. “See? All good.”
The night rolls on, easy and loud and warm. Harper fits in seamlessly, trading barbs with Layken, listening to Ella’s animated story about getting stuck inside the mascot costume last season, pretending not to notice when I keep my hand on her lower back.
At one point, Oliver starts a story about Harrison Meers’ rookie season.
“Oh no,” I say.
“Oh yes,” Scarlett replies sweetly.
Harper turns to me. “What did you do?”
I groan. “I tripped onto the ice coming out of the tunnel when my name was announced.”
She laughs so hard she has to grab my arm. “No.”
“Yes.”
“I wish I’d seen it.”
“You would’ve pretended not to know me.”
She tilts her head, eyes soft. “I don’t think so.”
That look—quiet and sincere—hits harder than anything else tonight. And just for that sweet comment, I lower my hand from her back to her ass and give it a little squeeze.
Later, when the music shifts to something slower and the crowd thins , Harper and I drift toward the edge of the group. She slides onto the barstool beside me, knees brushing mine.
“This is fun,” she says.
“It is.”
She studies me for a second. “You’ve been smiling a lot.”
“Have I?”
“Yeah.” She nudges my knee. “It’s cute.”
I lean in, voice low. “Careful. You keep saying things like that, I might start kissing you right here. In public.”
Her eyes flick to my mouth. “Oh no, please don’t,” she says flatly.
I laugh, shaking my head, and pull her just a little closer. “You say that like you didn’t enjoy it the last time.”
“I didn’t say that,” she murmurs. “I just think you talk a big game.”
That gets me.
I tip my head. “You calling me out, Richardson?”
“Maybe.” She shrugs one shoulder, deliberately casual, but her knee presses more firmly into mine under the table. “What are you going to do about it?”
Christ.
I glance around at the group. Everyone seems distracted or in mid-conversation, Bodhi arguing with Griffin about karaoke rules that absolutely do not exist.
I turn back to her. “You really want to find out?” I ask.
Her gaze drops to my mouth for half a second before lifting again. “I’m very curious.”
That’s all the permission I need.
I cup her jaw gently, thumb brushing along her cheek, and kiss her, slow at first, unhurried. The kind of kiss that says I’m not going anywhere. She melts into it immediately, her hand fisting lightly in the front of my shirt like she’s been waiting all night.
Somewhere behind us comes the razzing of my teammates. “Oh my God. Are you two swapping spit already? The night is young.”
“Yeah man, get a room.”
“The bathroom is empty. I just came from there.”
I pull back just enough to rest my forehead against Harper’s, smiling like an idiot.
“Too much?” I whisper.
She smiles back and responds, “Not enough.”
I kiss her again, quicker this time, softer, but just as telling.
That’s when the bar erupts.
“HEY!” Oliver shouts. “You kids cut that out!”
“I knew it!” Bodhi yells. “I give them ten minutes before they’re making out behind the jukebox!”
“You’re gonna give the guy pickle-pants, Harper.” Griffin laughs.
Scarlett fans herself dramatically. “Honestly, that was disgustingly sweet.”
Blakely grins at Harper. “Welcome to the team. You’re officially one of us now.”
“To Harrison Meers,” Ledger toasts, raising his glass. “Public displays of affection survivor.”
“Shut up,” I say, laughing, but I don’t move my arm from around Harper’s waist.
She tucks herself closer to me, clearly unbothered. “Something tells me they’ll never let you live that one down.”
“Not just me, babe,” I tell her. “You’re now part of the group, which means you’re fair game too.”
She beams. “Good. Bring it on.”
Yeah, if this is what getting razzed feels like when she’s curled into my side, smiling like she belongs there?
They can tease me all damn night.