Chapter 9
The grocery store was quiet for a Sunday afternoon, the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional beep of the checkout registers filling the air. I tossed a loaf of bread into my cart and turned down the produce aisle, mentally running through the list of things I needed to grab.
I was halfway to the vegetables when a familiar voice cut through the quiet.
“Coach Ryan!”
I turned just in time to see Connor darting toward me, his face lit up with excitement. Harper close behind, pushing their cart and smiling apologetically, like she worried Connor might be bothering me.
“Hey bud,” I said, grinning. “What’s up?”
“You’ll never guess what happened at our house this morning!” Connor practically bounced on his toes, eyes wide.
“What’s that?” I glanced up at Harper, who hovered a half-step behind him, arms crossed tightly over her chest.
She looked tired–shadows under her green eyes and her blonde hair pulled back in a simple ponytail. Still, even exhausted, there was something effortless about her. And when she smiled, even just a little like she was doing now, it was impossible to ignore how it lit up her entire face.
“A pipe burst in our kitchen!” Connor said, like it was the best thing that had ever happened.
I raised an eyebrow and looked at Harper, who let out a low breath. “Not exactly how I planned our morning,” she muttered.
Connor launched into the story before I could respond. “Water was going everywhere! Mom turned it off super fast and then we watched a bunch of videos on her phone to figure out how to fix it.”
“She even went over to Mrs. Knox’s and borrowed tools,” he added proudly.
I turned to Harper, trying not to laugh. “You serious?”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug, clearly a bit embarrassed. “Thought I could handle it.”
Connor grinned. “We both got soaked when she turned the water back on. It sprayed everywhere.”
Harper gave him a look, though a laugh slipped out anyway. “It was a disaster.”
I smirked. “Let me guess–YouTube said it was easy?”
She huffed a laugh, rolling her eyes. “I mean… how hard could it be, right?”
“Bold strategy,” I said, crossing my arms over the cart handle.” Watching a video doesn’t exactly make you a plumber.”
She gave me a dry look. “Believe me, I figured that out.”
“You want some help?”
Her posture stiffened. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll keep trying to get a hold of the landlord.”
“You sure?” I asked, keeping my voice easy. “I’ve got a full set of tools and I’ve fixed more than a few pipes.”
She hesitated, her expression guarded. “That’s nice of you. I just don’t want to trouble you. We’ll figure it out.”
“I don’t mind.” I kept my tone casual, non-pushy. “Besides, you and YouTube need a break anyway.”
Her eyes narrowed at me playfully. “Hey, I tried.”
“And I respect that,” I said, grinning. “But seriously, I’m not doing much of anything today. I can just swing by and take a look–it won’t take long.”
Connor’s face lit up. “Can he, Mom? Please?”
Harper looked between the two of us, clearly weighing the offer. Her jaw clenched just slightly, like she hated needing help–even for something like this.
She sighed quietly, then gave a reluctant nod. “Alright.”
I offered a smile. “Good call.”
“Awesome!” Connor chimed in before turning to Harper. “Did you know Coach Ryan loves apples? He has a whole bag in his cart!”
“Big apple fan, huh?” Harper teased, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she glanced at my cart.
“Guilty as charged,” I said with a shrug.
Connor suddenly scrunched his nose. “My Dad hates apples. He says they’re rabbit food.”
The lightheartedness shifted in an instant. Connor’s posture stiffened, his hands tightening around the edge of their cart. Harper’s smile faltered, the warmth in her eyes dimming slightly as she placed a gentle hand on her son’s shoulder.
I noticed, but I didn’t push. “Well, more apples for us then, right?” I said lightly, keeping my tone casual.
Connor’s small smile returned as he nodded. “Yeah. More for us.”
A beat passed between us, not quite awkward, not quite comfortable. Harper looked up, her eyes meeting mine with something unreadable in them–wary, maybe. Protective. Yet also… thankful.
“I, uh–” she glanced down, then back up again. “You probably need our address.”
“Yeah,” I said gently. “That’d help.”
She hesitated for a half-second, then pulled her phone from her coat pocket. “Want to give me your number? I’ll text it to you.”
I rattled off my number, watching as she saved it in her phone, then sent a quick message. A moment later, mine buzzed with her text.
Harper: (Connor’s mom)- for the plumbing rescue.
I grinned. “Got it.”
She gave me a tight smile, but it wasn’t unfriendly. Just cautious. “Thanks again. For offering to help. We’ll be home after this”
“I’ll swing by after I drop these off,” I said, giving Connor a quick fist bump.
Her eyes lingered on mine a beat longer before she gave a small nod.
As I pushed my cart away, I caught Connor glancing back at me, waving before turning the corner with his mom.
I paid for my groceries, loaded them into the truck, and headed home to unload. The whole time, my thoughts kept circling back to Harper.
We didn’t know each other well–barely more than a few run-ins, some shared rink time, and a couple of conversations. Something about the way she reacted when Connor mentioned his Dad… it stuck with me.
She’d gone still. Not visibly shaken, not dramatic. Just… guarded. Like she’d tucked part of herself away in the blink of an eye, trained to do it without thinking. I’d seen that look before–in players who’d been through too much, who carried more weight than they let anyone see.
I shoved the milk into the fridge, tossed a frozen dinner into the freezer, and leaned against the counter, jaw tight.
I wanted to help. Wanted to fix it, even if I had no idea what it was.
That was always my problem.
I couldn’t stand to see someone hurting and not try to make it better–especially when I knew that pain. The kind that didn’t show on the surface. The kind that sat heavy in your chest no matter how hard you tried to breathe past it.
Fixing things for other people? That was the easy part. Fixing myself? Wanting something for me? Yeah. That was a different story.
By the time I climbed back into the truck and turned onto her street, I was still trying to shove the thoughts aside. I wasn’t going there to get involved. I was just helping out with a plumbing issue. That was it.
Just a favour.
Nothing more.
My phone buzzed in the cupholder, and I glanced down to see Shane’s name lighting up the screen. I sighed and hit answer, lifting it to my ear.
“Yo.”
“You in for a pint tonight?” Shane asked without preamble. “Figure we should talk strategy after the ass-kicking we took yesterday.”
I smirked. “Tempting, but I’m actually heading to Harper and Connor’s right now. She’s got a sink that needs fixing.”
There was a pause. Then, “Oh, so now you only work Sundays for the pretty ones?”
“Shut up,” I muttered.
“Where’s she live?”
“Just outside of town. On Banks.”
Another pause. “Ah, must be the Wallace place. Man, they used to throw the wildest Halloween parties back in the day. Fake spiders in the vent. One year, someone rigged the toilet to scream when you lifted the lid. Shit was legendary.”
I chuckled despite myself. “Sounds like something you’d be behind.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Enjoy your… plumbing. Give me a call when you’re done and we can meet up.”
He hung up before I could respond, and I shook my head, tucking the phone away.
I pulled up to Harper’s house and climbed out of the truck, toolbox in hand. It looked just like I thought it would: cozy, inviting, with little details that made it feel like a real home.
A wreath hung on the door, Christmas a little over a month away, and a snowman figurine perched on the windowsill, its cheerful grin staring out at the quiet street.
The warm glow from inside spilled through the curtains, and I could almost smell the faint trace of something sweet, like sugar and cinnamon. Just like at the bakery.
Before I could even knock, the door swung open, and Harper stood there, Connor bouncing excitedly at her side.
“Hey,” Harper said, stepping back to let me through. “Come in. And, uh, sorry–it’s a mess and kind of bare in here still. We haven’t really finished unpacking.”
I stepped inside, and instantly felt a kind of warmth settle over me.
Sure, the walls were mostly empty and the furniture looked like it had been here for years, but there were little signs of life–Connor’s jacket tossed on the banister, a pair of snow boots by the door, and a candle burning faintly on the coffee table.
It wasn’t full of decor or noise. Still, the space carried the feeling of a home in progress, one slowly taking shape.
“It’s nice,” I said, honestly, toeing off my boots. “Feels… cozy.”
Harper gave a soft, uncertain smile. “That’s one word for it.”
Connor took that as his cue. “Come on, Coach Ryan! You gotta see where the water exploded!”
He sprinted off toward the kitchen.
Harper sighed, a note of amusement threading through her voice. “It really wasn’t that dramatic.”
“I don’t know,” I said, following her. “Connor seems pretty committed to the story.”
As we passed the living room, Harper nodded toward the stairs with a faint smile. “Nina told me this place used to be where everyone came for Halloween parties.”
I let out a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Shane just told me the same thing. Said half the town still hasn’t forgiven him for all the jump scares he caused at those parties.”
She looked at me. “Did you grow up here too?”
I hesitated, adjusting my grip on the toolbox.
“Nah. Shane and I go way back though. Played college hockey together… ended up on the same NHL roster for a while before I got traded.” I gave a small shrug.
“He was always the loud one. Big personality. Never backed down from anything. Drove me nuts sometimes.”