Chapter 20 #2
Instead, I leaned in too, barely, but it was enough. Enough to feel the heat radiating off of him. Enough to notice the way his eyes dropped to my lips and then back to my eyes like he was this close to crossing a line.
I swear the world tilted.
My heart thudded so loud I was sure he could hear it.
And still… neither of us moved. Not fully.
Because if we crossed that line–if we kissed–nothing would be the same.
But God, I wanted to.
Then–
The door chimed and Nina’s voice followed instantly. “Sorry I’m late! I had a work email I had to reply to quickly, which turned into ten more.”
I blinked, jolting back as Ryan straightened abruptly, dragging his hand away like he’d touched fire. His jaw clenched, just briefly, before he covered it with a sip from his drink.
Nina slid into the seat beside me, one brow raised like she hadn’t missed a thing. “Did I interrupt something?”
“Not at all,” I said a little too fast. “Just… reliving the trauma of sled pushes.”
Ryan didn’t say a word, but his knee brushed mine under the table–and didn’t move.
We started talking again–teasing, joking, slipping back into familiar rhythms–though my focus hadn’t splintered.
Because that tension?
It hadn’t gone anywhere.
It was still humming between us, louder than ever.
And I had no idea what was going to happen when it finally snapped.
What the hell was I doing?
This was supposed to be friendly. Casual. I thought we were becoming friends–real, solid, comfortable friends. The kind you could count on.
He was Connor’s hockey coach for God’s sake.
And whatever just almost happened? That wasn’t friendship.
That was not neutral territory. That was something charged and electric and impossibly real.
And now I couldn’t stop thinking about how close we’d come. How easy it would’ve been to fall into him. How much I wanted to.
God.
I wasn’t ready for this.
A relationship? Now? After everything? I was barely figuring out which version of my life I was even living–still piecing myself back together, still learning how to be okay on my own. Still fighting the instinct to flinch every time a door slammed too hard.
And Ryan… he wasn’t part of the plan.
That moment, though? It cracked something open. Because my body hadn’t reacted like that in years–maybe ever. That kind of heat, that kind of tension… it wasn’t just attraction. It felt like safety and danger all rolled into one. Like he could be something good. Or he could ruin me.
I stole a glance at him across the table.
He wasn’t looking at me, not directly. But his hand was close. His leg still brushed against mine. And I was still very much not breathing normally.
Maybe this didn’t have to be anything serious. Maybe it was just chemistry. A pull. A moment. Who said anything about a relationship, anyway?
So maybe I just ride this out. See what happens. No one has to know.
And the scariest part?
Some reckless, aching part of me wanted him so so bad.
We all stood, ready to leave, the last of the mugs and plates cleared away. I slipped my bag over my shoulder and started toward the door before pausing.
“Oh–before I forget.” I reached into my bag and pulled out Ryan’s baseball cap, holding it out to him. “You left this at my place the other night.”
His brows lifted slightly as he took it from me, fingers brushing mine in exchange. “Guess I did.”
“Connor wanted to keep it,” I said with a small smile. “But I figured you might want it back.”
One corner of his mouth kicked up. “Tell him I appreciate him not holding it for ransom.”
I rolled my eyes, stepping outside, yet I couldn’t quite stop the tiny smile tugging at my lips.
The bakery smelled like sugar and cinnamon heaven. If heaven also included my kid perched on a stool at the counter, licking a spoon clean and declaring himself head taste tester.
The overhead lights cast a soft glow over the empty cafe, reflecting off the polished glass display case that, for once, wasn’t full of muffins and cookies but instead sat wiped clean, ready for tomorrow.
The “Closed” sign hung in the front window, the street outside quiet except for the occasional crunch of tires over snow.
“This one’s too sweet,” Connor said with his mouth full, shoving the spoon toward me like he was a judge on bake off.
Benny’s laugh rumbled from behind the counter, where he was pulling another tray from the oven. “Too sweet? Kid, you just inhaled half a cinnamon roll before dinner.”
“Doesn’t mean it can’t be better,” Connor shot back, swinging his legs.
I grinned, jotting down a note beside the recipe printout. “Honest feedback. Brutal, but honest.”
Benny glanced over his shoulder, eyes narrowing at me. “Okay, you’ve been hobbling around all day like you just ran a marathon. What’d you do–pull a hamstring whisking batter?”
I rolled my eyes, trying not to limp as I crossed the kitchen. “Ha-ha. No, I went to the gym yesterday.”
“Ohhhh,” Benny drawled. “One gym session and you’re walking like a ninety-year-old. No, actually, that’s an insult to ninety-year-olds,” Benny went on with a grin. “My grandma gets around faster than whatever this is you’re doing. Should I install a handrail over there?”
I stuck my tongue out at him. “It’s called progress. You’d understand if you ever set foot in a gym.”
Benny gasped like I’d just slapped him with a baguette. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know I have been to the gym. Twice. And both times I looked fabulous doing absolutely nothing.”
I snorted, and Connor choked on his hot chocolate, trying to hide his laugh behind the mug.
Benny slid a new tray toward us, steam curling in the air. “Alright, sore muscles, tell me what you think of these. Lemon shortbread.”
I broke one in half, inhaling the buttery scent, and took a bite. “Oh my God.”
Connor leaned in. “You have to share.”
“Do I?” I teased, holding the half just out of reach until he gave me his best pleading eyes. With a sigh, I handed it over.
“Also,” Benny said, leaning against the counter. “You ready for the hockey Christmas party this weekend?”
I froze mid-bite. “I guess so? It’s just a get-together for the parents isn’t it?”
His brow arched. “Oh, honey, a get-together? The community center is decked out like a Hallmark movie, parents dressed to the nines, no kids, good food, plenty of drinks, dancing… and yours truly providing the desserts. Best night of the year.”
“That sounds…” I trailed off, trying to picture myself there without sticking out like a sore thumb. “... fancy.”
“It is,” he said, giving me a slow, deliberate once-over. “You got something to wear?”
I huffed a laugh. “Not unless we’re redefining ‘fancy’ as jeans and a sweater.”
Benny’s eyes widened like I’d just told him I preferred store-bought cookies. “Absolutely not. Tomorrow, we’re going shopping. You’re walking in there in something gorgeous.”
I scoffed. “You’re setting the bar a little high.”
“Not for you.” He said it like it was a fact, not flattery.
Connor hopped off his stool. “I’m getting more whipped cream,” he announced, disappearing through the doors.
Benny’s eyes followed him until he was out of earshot. Then, with all the subtlety of a marching band, he said, “Plus, Ryan will be there, won’t he?”
I gave him a flat look. “Probably, Benny. He is the hockey coach after all.”
He leaned over the counter, smirking. “Mmhmm. And I’m sure he would love to see you all dressed up.”
“It’s not like that between us,” I said quickly.
Benny made a sound halfway between a gasp and a scoff, pressing a hand to his chest in mock offence. “Right. And I don’t own an espresso machine in every shade of the rainbow. Please.”
I rolled my eyes. “It’s not,” I said again, softer this time. “It can’t be.”
I opened my mouth, ready to tell him about Reid, about the mess I’d been dragging around for years–but Benny held up a hand.
“You don’t need to explain,” he said firmly.
I blinked, startled. “What?”
His expression softened, but there was no mistaking the certainty in his voice.
“I know, Harper. Not all the details. But enough. I had a feeling the first time you and Connor walked into this place. And since then? Let’s just say I notice things.
We see each other nearly every day–you think I wouldn’t pick up on the way you flinch sometimes, or the way you always sit facing the door? ”
Heat rose to my cheeks, shame curling in my stomach. “You… knew?”
“I didn’t need you to tell me,” he said simply. Then his mouth quirked into a faint, bittersweet smile. “Why do you think I pushed Winterfest so hard? I wanted you to see that there are good things worth holding on to. Good people. Especially in this town.”
I stared at him, unable to find the right words.
Benny reached across the counter, covering my hand with his. His grip was steadying, grounding. “We take care of our own here in Brookhaven. And whether you realize it or not, you and Connor are ours now. You’re stronger than you know, Harper. Stronger than what you’ve been through.”
I tried for a laugh, but it came out brittle. “Even if I did like Ryan like that, I’ve got way too much baggage. Someone like him couldn’t possibly be interested in someone like me.”
Benny’s entire posture snapped upright. “Absolutely not. I will not allow that sentence to leave your lips again.” He gestured dramatically, as if shoving the words right back into my mouth.
“Harper, you are smart, strong, gorgeous, and one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met.
You’ve survived hell and still manage to bake cookies without poisoning anyone–that’s practically a superpower.
If Ryan, or anyone else for that matter, can’t see how incredible you are, that’s their loss. Not yours.”
Heat rushed to my face, half from embarrassment, half from the way his words hit somewhere deep.
Just then, Connor padded back in, whipped cream in hand.
Benny’s expression shifted instantly, morphing back into his usual smirk.
As Connor climbed onto the stool, Benny leaned toward me and murmured just loud enough for me to hear, “And Harper… I’ve seen the way Ryan looks at you.
He’s definitely not seeing someone who’s broken. ”
I stared down at the recipe sheet, pretending to double-check my notes, biting back a smile.
“You know I’m right.”