Chapter 17
I stand in my kitchen, phone in hand, staring at Harper’s contact like it might tell me what to do. Do I text? Call? Just show up?
It’s ridiculous, how long I’ve been standing here, overthinking it.
How could I not?
What was starting out as a solid friendship–easy conversation, shared laughs–has quietly turned into something else. Somewhere along the way, she stopped being just Connor’s mom to me.
And after yesterday… it’s like a switch flipped.
The idea of not seeing them–both of them–feels wrong. Like I’m missing something I need.
I tell myself it’s just about checking in, making sure Connor’s okay. Making sure Harper’s okay. But the truth is, I want to see her. I need to see her.
Yesterday was the worst day of my life.
I didn’t know I could feel that kind of terror.
I close my eyes, and it’s all still there–the cracking ice, the darkness below, the shock of cold in my lungs. The way my heart stopped when I saw that flash of fire-red beneath the surface.
For those agonizing moments, it felt like we were gone.
If I hadn’t seen Shane’s arm reaching through, if I had been just five seconds slower–
I shake the thought away, pushing my free hand through my hair.
It doesn’t matter now.
We made it out.
Someone was looking out for us, and I’ll be grateful for that for the rest of my life.
But if I had to do it again?
If I had to dive into that freezing black water, claw through the ice, feel my lungs burn and my muscles lock up just to bring Connor back?
There’s no question in my mind.
I’d do it. Every damn time.
I glance back at my phone, exhaling sharply. Screw it.
I grab my keys and head for the door.
The smell of fresh coffee and warm pastries hits me the second I step into the bakery. It’s comforting–familiar–yet it doesn’t quite settle the restlessness in my chest.
I’m here for two things: coffee for Harper and a cookie for Connor. Small things, but things I know they’ll both need.
The place is quiet, only a few customers scattered at tables, and behind the counter, Benny looks like hell. His usually perfectly styled hair is a mess, his eyes rimmed red, and he’s nursing a giant cup of coffee like it’s his last lifeline.
He sees me and lets out a dramatic sigh, throwing a hand over his chest. “Oh, thank God. I wasn’t sure I’d survive another minute without an update.”
I huff a quiet laugh. “Morning to you too, Benny.”
“Morning? Is it even morning?” He checks his watch, squinting. “Christ. I haven’t slept. Not a wink.”
I raise an eyebrow. “You weren’t the one who went for a swim in a frozen pond.”
Benny waves me off. “Oh please. I’ve been traumatized. Do you know what it’s like, sitting at home, pacing for hours, worrying?”
“Yes,” I said dryly. “Yes, I do.”
Benny pauses, his dramatics slipping just slightly. “Right,” he mutters. “Guess you do.”
We stand in silence for a second before he clears his throat. “You’re on your way over there now?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Just wanted to grab them something first.”
Benny nods, busying himself behind the counter. He pulls two cups from the stack, filling them with coffee the way Harper takes hers, before grabbing a cookie from the display case. He slides everything into a small bag and sets it on the counter.
“On the house,” he says, waving a dismissive hand before I can argue. “And tell Harper she can come back to work whenever she’s ready. No rush. I’ll hold down the fort.”
I pick up the bag, nodding once. “I’ll tell her.”
Benny’s lips pressed into a thin line, like he was chewing on something. Then he snapped his fingers. “Actually… hang on.”
He ducked down behind the counter, rifling through a drawer until he pulled out a plain white envelope. I watched as he opened the register, slipped out a handful of bills, and tucked them inside. With a flourish, he scrawled something across the front, his handwriting quick yet unmistakable.
When he handed it to me, his eyes were softer than his voice. “Give her this, will you?”
I looked down. On the front, in Benny’s messy scrawl, it read:
Take it. No buts. The bakery will be here when you’re ready.
B.
The lump in my throat was sudden, unexpected.
I cleared my throat, sliding the envelope carefully into the bag with the coffee. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”
Benny gave me a sharp nod, leaning on the counter. “Good. And don’t let her argue. She’ll try, but I’m meaner than I look.”
I huffed out a quiet laugh, though the weight of what I carried suddenly felt heavier.
Benny was watching me carefully. “You’re a hero, you know.”
I shake my head. “I’m not.”
“You are,” he insists. “And she knows it too.”
I don’t answer. Just grab the coffees, give him one last nod, and head for the door.
I climb into my truck, tossing the bag with the coffee and cookie onto the passenger seat before gripping the steering wheel. My fingers tighten around the leather, my jaw clenches as Benny’s words replay in my head.
You’re a hero.
I shake my head. No. No, I’m not.
The worst part is, people actually believe it. The kids on the hockey team. The parents. The entire town. Even Harper–especially Harper. I saw it in her eyes at the hospital, in the way she looked at me like I was someone good. Like I was someone worth something.
My phone buzzes on the console beside me, dragging me from my thoughts. I glance at the screen.
Kyle.
Perfect fucking timing.
Everyone in this town thinks I’m a hero. Kyle, though? He knows the truth. In Connor’s story, I’m the guy who saved him. In Kyle’s, I’m the guy who ruined his life.
My stomach twists as I stare at the notification, but I don’t open it. Can’t bring myself to. Instead, I flip the phone face down onto the seat, and let out a slow breath.
It doesn’t matter how many people call me a hero–how many kids look up to me, how many times Harper leans on me, trusts me.
Because I know the truth.
And if Harper knew? If she found out what I’ve done?
Would she still look at me the way she does? Would she still let me be a part of Connor’s life?
Probably not.
I rake my hands through my hair, exhaling hard as I pull into Harper’s driveway. Throwing the truck into park, I letting my head fall back against the seat for a second.
Fuckkkkkk.
She’s too good for me. Way too fucking good for me.
That doesn’t stop me from wanting to be here, though. From needing to see her. To see Connor. To remind myself that at least for one person, I did something right.
I take a steadying breath before knocking on the door, shifting the coffees and cookie in my hand.
Harper answers a few seconds later, and damn, she looks exhausted. Still beautiful as ever, but there are dark circles under her eyes, her hair pulled into a messy bun like she hasn’t had the energy to brush it.
I can’t blame her. I didn’t sleep at all last night either, and I wasn’t the one sitting beside my kid in a hospital bed making sure he kept breathing.
She blinks in surprise when she sees me, then her expression softens into something that looks a hell of a lot like relief.
“Hey,” she says, stepping aside to let me in.
“Hey,” I reply, stepping past her and into the house.
Connor is curled up on the couch, wrapped in blankets, eyes glued to the TV. I take one step inside before second-guessing myself.
“Shit, I probably should've called first–”
“Ryan!”
Connor’s head snaps toward me, his face lighting up. He throws the blanket off like he’s about to jump up and run over, but Harper stops him with a look.
I grin. “Hey, buddy. How you feeling?”
“Good!” he says, then his voice turns suspicious. “Wait, did you bring me anything?”
Harper laughs, shaking her head. “You hear that? Every time this kid sees you, it’s like Christmas morning. Must do wonders for your ego.”
I smirk, handing her the coffee. “I don’t mind it.” I nod toward the bag. “There’s something from Benny in there for you and a cookie for him too.”
Connor gasps dramatically. “A cookie?”
Harper rolls her eyes, then grabs it and walks it over to him. The second she hands it off, he tears into it like it’s the best thing he’s ever been given in his life.
He looks up at me, mouth full. “We’re watching Sonic! Can you stay?”
I glance at Harper, waiting for her to be the voice of reason, to tell him I probably shouldn’t intrude.
Instead, she nods. “Yeah, stay.”
Like I was going to say no to that.
I walk over to the couch and sit down on one side of Connor while Harper settles on the other.
For a while, we just watch the movie. Connor gets about halfway through before his body starts going limp, his head eventually rolling onto my lap, his legs stretched out over Harper’s.
I glance over at her, and she just smiles, brushing a hand over his blanket-covered legs.
Hesitating for half a second before I lift my arm onto the back of the couch, pulling her closer. She doesn’t even question it, just leans in, resting her head against my chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I shift slightly so I can see her face, reaching up to gently push a strand of hair away from her cheek.
Her breathing slows.
I look down and realize she’s asleep.
Fuck, she must’ve been exhausted.
I don’t move. I don’t even think I can move.
This–right here, with her asleep against me, Connor tucked between us–this is exactly where I want to be.
And maybe that makes me selfish. Maybe Harper deserves someone better, someone who isn’t carrying around the kind of shit I am.
But I don’t care.
Because right now, with both of them here, just as they are…
I don’t want to be anywhere else.
I wake up with a start, blinking against the dim glow of the kitchen light. I hadn’t even realized I fell asleep. The last thing I remember was watching Sonic with Connor, and Harper curled up beside me, sleeping.
Now, it’s dark outside, the house quiet except for the steady hum of the fridge and the soft sound of Harper breathing against my chest.
I shift slightly, careful not to wake either of them, and reach for my phone. The screen lights up.
12:07 am.
Shit. We’ve been out for nearly twelve hours.
I exhale, rubbing a hand over my face, then move to put my phone back down when Harper stirs beside me.
“Ryan?” Her voice is soft, groggy.
“Yeah,” I answer just as quietly.
She lifts her head slightly, rubbing at her eyes. “What time is it?”
“Just after midnight.”
She lets out a breath, her head dropping back to my chest. “Oh my God. I needed that sleep.”
I smile and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Yeah, no kidding.”
She stretches a little, then glances down at Connor, still completely out, his body tucked between us. “I should get him to his own bed.”
I sit up a little. “Want me to carry him up?”
She hesitates, then shakes her head. “No.” She looks back at me, voice quieter. “I don’t want to leave him.”
I nod. “Then we stay. If you’re comfortable.”
“I am.”
She goes silent, and then I hear it–the softest little sniffle.
I look down and brush a piece of hair from her face. “Harper?”
Her eyes are squeezed shut, but tears spill from the corners anyway. She quickly wipes at them. “I’m sorry,” she says, slowly sitting up.
I shake my head. “Hey. You have nothing to be sorry for.”
She wipes at her tears again, shaking her head. “I don’t want to cry.”
I frown. “Harper–”
“I don’t want anyone to think I’m weak. Or emotional.” She whispers, voice tight.
Something about the way she says it–the way her voice shakes, like she’s admitting something she’s not proud of–hits me square in the chest. I lean back just enough to look at her, brows furrowed. “Harper, what you just went through was traumatic. You have every reason to cry.”
She swallows hard, avoiding my gaze.
I shake my head, tightening my arms around her.
“Even if it wasn’t traumatic, even if it was something small–you’d still have every right to cry.
That doesn’t make you weak, and it sure as hell doesn’t make you emotional.
” I run my thumb along her cheek, wiping away the tears she’s still trying to hold back. “It makes you human.”
She opens her mouth to say something, and I stop her, pressing my forehead lightly against hers.
“You’ve been strong for Connor. For everyone else. But it’s just us now. You don’t have to act like you’re okay when you’re not.” I cup her cheek, my thumb brushing over her damp skin. “You can cry as much as you need. I’m right here. I’ll be right here. I’m not going anywhere, Harper.”
Her breath hitches, and then, like something inside her finally breaks, she buries herself into my chest, shoulders shaking.
I hold her close, one hand smoothing down her back, the other stroking her hair. I pressed another kiss to the top of her head, murmuring, “Connor is okay. He’s safe and he is here.”
She exhales shakily, nodding as she lets the words settle.
This time, when she tucks herself back into my chest, she doesn’t fight the tears.
And I don’t let go.
I hold her close, my fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.
As her breathing evens out, I feel my own eyes getting heavy again.
And as I drift off, one thought settles in my mind.
I’ve come to realize that these two–Harper and Connor–they’re the most important people in my life.
And I’m never letting them go.