Chapter 24
The nightmare had come like a storm–violent, sudden, unescapable.
Connor had been just a baby, barely a year old.
I’d packed our things in a frenzy, shoving bottles and diapers into a bag, my heart pounding so loudly I could hardly hear myself think.
I’d driven for hours, not stopping until I was sure I was far enough away.
I found a cheap motel off the highway, the kind where no one asked questions. I thought we were safe.
I can still feel the way my shoulders sagged as I locked the door behind me, exhaustion flooding my body.
Connor had been fussy, confused by the change of scenery, by the cramped room that smelled faintly of bleach and stale cigarette smoke.
I held him close, whispering that everything would be okay, that this was just the start of something better.
I believed it, too–until I heard his voice.
I was changing Connor’s diaper on the bed when the door burst open, the chain snapping like it was made of paper.
He stood in the doorway, his face twisted with fury, his eyes dark with a rage I’d never seen before.
I remember the way my body went cold, my heart stopping for a beat before it started racing so fast I thought I might faint.
“How dare you try to leave me,” his voice was low, deadly calm, the kind of calm that made my blood run cold. “You thought you could hide?”
I tried to shield Connor with my body, my hands shaking as I held him close. He was screaming now, his tiny fists waving in the air, his face red with fear and confusion. I remembered begging, my voice cracking, words tumbling out in a jumbled mess of apologies and pleas.
It didn’t matter. He was already in the room, already towering over me, his presence filling the tiny space like a dark shadow.
He grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin, yanking me up off the bed.
The pain was sharp, though I barely felt it over the rush of panic, the binding fear that I’d made the biggest mistake of my life.
“You think you can just leave?” His grip tightened, his face inches from mine. “You think you can just take my son and disappear?”
I don’t remember much after that. Just flashes–the sting of his hand across my face, the crack of my head against the wall, the way Connor’s screams grew more frantic. I remember feeling like I was underwater, my body heavy and unresponsive, my vision blurring as I fought to stay conscious.
And then, just as suddenly as it started, it was over.
He was gone, and I was on the floor, my cheek pressed against the cold, dirty carpet, my body aching in places I didn’t even know could hurt.
Connor was still crying, his tiny body trembling as I pulled him close, whispering apologies through tears that wouldn’t stop falling.
We went home the next day. I didn’t try to leave again
I jolted upright, heart hammering, a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin despite the cold air in the room. My breath came in quick, shallow pulls as I looked around, trying to anchor myself to the present.
My bedroom. My sheets. My house. Safe. Connor was safe. We were safe.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, willing the memory away.
It still had claws, even after all this time.
Even after everything I’d done to outrun it.
I didn’t even want to think about what he would do if he found us this time.
But I couldn’t let that fear control me anymore.
I couldn’t let him keep us trapped, even from a distance.
I drew in a long, shaky breath and pulled the blanket tighter around me.
But the comfort didn’t come. Not really.
Because even now, after everything Ryan and I had shared–after the warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his kiss–all I could think was: this is too good to be true.
Stuff like this didn’t happen to people like me.
People like me didn’t get soft mornings and whispered promises. We got locked doors and bruised skin and the constant fear of the next explosion. I didn’t get good things. Not for long. Not without paying for them later.
And Ryan? He was everything I hadn’t even let myself want. Kind. Steady. Strong. He made me feel safe in a way that was terrifying. Because the moment I let myself believe in that safety, it could be ripped away.
The other shoe always dropped.
I pulled my knees to my chest, burying my face against them.
Why now? Why him? What if I was just setting myself up for another fall?
And what about Connor?
What if this–whatever this was–put him at risk?
The silence stretched long and heavy until I whispered into it, “This can’t be real.”
Because I didn’t believe in fairytales. Not anymore.
Still, my heart beated too fast–my mind echoing with Ryan’s voice and the way he had looked at me like I was something worth staying for.
And that scared me more than anything else ever had.
We were halfway through breakfast–Connor with a bowl of cereal, me with coffee and toast–when he looked up with that spark in his eyes that meant trouble.
“Coach Ryan said he used to snowboard all the time when he played in Colorado. Do you think we could go? Maybe over Christmas break? Like, up the mountain and everything? He said he’d teach me.”
The mention of Ryan made my heart skip. I tried to keep my focus on spreading jam across my toast, but the excitement in Connor’s voice was impossible to ignore. He said Coach Ryan so easily, so naturally, like Ryan had always been part of his life.
I couldn’t take that from him.
No matter what happened between Ryan and me, no matter what I was feeling or how messy it all became–I wouldn’t be the reason Connor lost someone he clearly looked up to. I wouldn’t let my fears ruin that connection.
“We’ll see,” I said softly.
He grinned and shovelled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth before leaning back in his chair. “I’m really glad we moved here, Mom.”
My heart clenched. “Yeah?”
He nodded, thoughtful now. “I like our new house–it’s cozy. And the rink. And Jaxxon and Liam and Nina. And the team. And Coach Shane. And Coach Ryan. It’s better here.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you ever miss our old place?”
Connor didn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”
I blinked. “Not at all?”
“Nope,” he said again, a little firmer. “I like it here better. You smile more.”
I opened my mouth to answer, but before I could, he was already glancing at the clock. “I can’t believe it’s the last game before Christmas. We better win. I’m so excited I get to play again.”
His grin was infectious, pulling one from me despite the tight knot in my chest. I reached for my coffee, letting the warmth seep into my hands, and told myself that whatever happened between Ryan and me, this–Connor’s happiness–was what mattered most.
The crowd’s energy hummed through the rink hours later as I slid into my seat beside Nina.
She was bundled in a cream cable-knit sweater, her chestnut hair falling in effortless waves over her shoulders.
She leaned forward on her forearms, eyes sharp as she tracked the players on the ice, watching the warm-up.
I let my gaze wander toward the bench, searching for him–but all I saw was Shane.
At six-foot-four, he stood out easily, a towering figure with broad shoulders and slightly tousled red hair that caught in the rink lights.
His expression was its usual blend of focus and faint amusement, like he’d seen it all before and nothing surprised him anymore.
No Ryan.
My phone buzzed against my thigh. I pulled it out to see a new message.
Ryan: Get your cute butt down the tunnel.
My brows knit together. What?
I made my way down toward the player’s entrance. The hall was quiet except for the muffled echo of the crowd above, and I was just passing the janitor’s closet when the door swung open. A firm hand caught my wrist, tugging me inside before I could even make a sound.
My breath caught, my heart lurching–until I saw him.
Ryan stood there in full coaching gear, stubble freshly cleaned, eyes glinting under the harsh fluorescent lights.
“Hi,” he said, voice low, his mouth curving into a slow, devastating smile.
“Hi,” I breathed back, still catching up to the moment.
“I missed you.” His hand slid to my waist, and before I could reply, his mouth was on mine–hot insistent, tasting faintly of spearmint. The sudden closeness stole my breath, my hands instinctively curling into the front of his jacket to pull him closer.
When he finally broke away, his forehead rested against mine, his voice rough. “Just needed a quick moment alone with you.”
I swallowed, my pulse still skittering. “Just a moment?”
The corner of his mouth kicked up, but there was regret in his eyes. “If I stay longer, I’m not making it back to the bench.”
I wanted to say I didn’t care. That I wanted more–so much more.
Instead, I just nodded, even as my chest ached.
Because this… this was unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
It was like some dormant part of me had finally been shaken awake, hungry and alive in a way I hadn’t even known was possible.
Reid had never made me feel like this–never taken the time to make sure I was taken care of, to pull pleasure from me like it was something worth savoring.
With Ryan, it was different. Intense. Addictive.
And God help me, I wanted it all the damn time.
With a quick squeeze at my waist, he was gone, slipping out the door and back toward the ice.
I took a moment to steady my breathing before making my way back to my seat. The game was seconds from starting when I slid into the spot beside Nina. She looked at me, then toward the bench where Ryan had just appeared, settling behind the players. Her eyebrows shot up.
“Do not,” I warned under my breath.
Her lips curved. “Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. Unlike yours, apparently.”
The buzzer sounded to end the first period, and the players on the ice skated toward their benches. The crowd began to stir, people heading toward the concession stands.
Nina and I stood to stretch, but we didn’t make it more than a few steps before she muttered under her breath, lips curving into a smirk. “Uh-oh. Hockey moms, twelve o’clock.”
I followed her gaze and immediately spotted them, their festive sweaters and perfectly curled hair making them look like an ad for a lifestyle blog.
“There’s no escaping them, is there?” I whispered.
“Not unless you want to hide in the bathroom until the period starts,” Nina replied dryly.
Too late.
“Harper!” Kelly’s voice rang out, her wave a little too enthusiastic. “We were just saying how great Connor’s been playing. That last period? Incredible.”
“Yeah,” I said, stepping closer with Nina. The smell of popcorn, peppermint mochas, and the unmistakable hint of baileys—warm and sweet, like comfort in a cup—hung in the air. “He’s been working really hard.”
Miranda tilted her head, her glossy curls bouncing. “Do you have plans for the holidays? Everything around here gets so busy right before Christmas.”
“We’re just hanging around here,” I replied with a small smile. “Still got a few things to get.”
Vanessa’s lips curved. “Speaking of the holidays… we saw you at the Christmas party last weekend–you and Ryan left together, didn’t you?”
There it was.
I kept my tone light. “Yup. He gave me a ride home.”
“Must be nice for Connor,” added Rachel, eyes narrowing as she studied me. “Having a male role model around for him.”
I tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. “Yeah… Ryan’s a great coach. Great friend, too.”
Nina shot me a knowing glance but didn’t say a word.
Kelly leaned in a little. “We’ve been meaning to invite you to ladies night and get to know you better! We hardly know anything about you, Harper. Like what brought you to Brookhaven… Fresh start I’m guessing? Nobody moves to Brookhaven for fun.”
I kept my smile neutral, ignoring the invitation. “Something like that.”
They all exchanged looks–too quick to catch if you weren’t looking for them. But I was.
“Ryan’s kind of the same,” Miranda said, shifting the conversation with a practised ease. “He carries a lot. Mostly keeps to himself.”
“Which makes sense, considering…” Rachel trailed off meaningfully.
“Yeah,” Kelly added, nodding slowly. “I mean, it wasn’t his fault. You can tell he still carries the weight of it, though.”
My stomach twisted slightly. I tried to keep my expression composed, though my mind immediately went to what Ryan had told me about his mom–the car accident, the guilt.
“He’s been through a lot,” Miranda said gently. “But you probably already know that. You and he seem… close.”
I opened my mouth, then closed it again. “He’s… easy to talk to,” I said finally. “I don’t ask questions that aren’t mine to ask, though.”
That seemed to stop the probing–for now. Kelly gave me a tight smile, her curiosity barely concealed behind it.
“Well,” she said, adjusting the coffee cup in her hand. “I’m just glad he’s got people around him now.”
Nina jumped in before anyone else could add more. “Alright, this was fun, but we’ve got to get to the bathroom before the next period starts.”
The moms blinked, their eyes snapping to her like they’d just realized she’d been standing there the whole time. Kelly offered a half-hearted smile. Miranda muttered a polite “nice seeing you,” and Rachel just nodded, already distracted by something on her phone.
Nina didn’t seem fazed–just raised one perfectly groomed brow and gave them a tight lipped smile that said she saw it all and didn’t care one bit.
We said quick goodbyes and headed off, the moms’ voices fading behind us.
“You okay?” Nina asked, glancing sideways.
“Yeah,” I said, though the ache in my chest told me otherwise.