Chapter 26 Harper #3
Snow crunched softly beside me, and then Ryan was there, crouching at my side. He didn’t say anything at first, just studied me with those sharp, steady eyes, like he could see every emotion I was trying to push down.
“You okay?” he asked quietly.
I nodded, but my smile felt shaky, unconvincing. “I’m fine,” I whispered.
Ryan didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he just stayed close, his presence solid and warm in the cold air.
Before either of us could say anything else, my phone buzzed in my pocket, pulling me out of the moment.
With a sigh, I reached for my phone, expecting one of Benny’s over-the-top texts. But the moment I saw the sender’s name, my stomach plummeted.
Reid.
A chill that had nothing to do with the winter air crept up my spine. My fingers trembled as I opened the email, my breath catching before I even reached the first line.
Subject: Let’s Be Adults About This
The words blurred slightly as I forced myself to keep reading.
Harper,
I’ve had some time to think, and I realize now that I made mistakes. I never should’ve treated you the way I did. You didn’t deserve that.
Bile rose in my throat. I knew that tone–polished, practised. The same one he’d used every time he wanted to smooth things over. Every time he wanted to reel me back in.
But you’ve punished me long enough. I’ve paid for my mistakes, and it’s time for you to come back home. Enough is enough, Harper. You’re being selfish, keeping Connor away from me. He’s my son too.
My grip tightened around the phone. My pulse roared in my ears, each sentence hitting harder than the last.
I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve changed, I swear. You can’t keep him from me forever. If you think you can, you’re delusional.
The email’s tone sharpened, the false contrition slipping away like a mask cracking at the edges.
You’ve had your time to sulk, to act like the victim. Now it’s time to do what’s right. Bring Connor home. We can figure this out, but only if you stop playing games. Don’t make me come find you.
Don’t make me come find you.
The words stabbed deep, cold and sharp, like a knife twisting between my ribs. My breath hitched. The crisp air around me suddenly felt suffocating. The sound of the boys’ laughter, the crunch of boots in the snow–it all faded beneath the pounding of my pulse.
I felt like I was going to be sick.
“Harper?”
Ryan’s voice cut through the fog, sharper now. He was crouched beside me again, his hand hovering near my shoulder. His brows drew together in concern as his gaze flicked to my phone.
Too fast, I locked the screen and shoved it deep into my pocket. “It’s nothing,” I said. My voice was too high, too tight. I swallowed hard, forcing a shaky smile. “I’m fine.”
Ryan’s frown deepened. “That didn’t look like nothing.”
“I just…” I stood abruptly, brushing the snow off my pants, my hands unsteady. “I just remembered something I forgot to do, that’s all.”
Ryan didn’t look convinced. His sharp blue eyes stayed locked on mine, searching, assessing. He knew I was lying.
But–mercifully–he let go.
For now.
He pushed himself to his feet, his presence steady beside me, a quiet anchor I wasn’t sure I deserved.
I turned away before he could say anything else, my heart still hammering, my lungs still fighting for air.
I refused to let Reid ruin this day.
I refused to let him ruin me.
The house was warm again, the scent of pine mingling with the lingering traces of hot chocolate and cinnamon.
The snowball fight felt like a lifetime ago as I stood at the kitchen counter, staring blankly at the mugs we’d used for our earlier mimosas.
My hands rested on the cool surface, my mind a thousand miles away, trapped in the space between my past and my present.
Nina’s voice filled the kitchen, rambling about something–probably Shane’s antics during the snowball fight–but I barely registered the words.
Normally, the sound of her talking was comforting, grounding.
Tonight, though, it only highlighted the silence in my own mind, the way Reid’s words kept circling like a storm cloud I couldn’t shake.
Don’t make me come find you.
A shiver ran down my spine.
“You’re awfully quiet over there,” Nina said suddenly, breaking the flow of her own conversation. I glanced over to find her watching me, eyes narrowed, hands planted on her hips. That look–the one that said she was already onto me.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I replied too quickly, my voice thin and unconvincing.
Nina raised an eyebrow. “Harper,” she said, her tone softer now. “Talk to me.”
I hesitated, my fingers curling against the edge of the counter. She was my closest friend. If anyone would understand, it was Nina.
With a deep breath, I pulled my phone from my pocket, unlocked the screen and wordlessly turned it toward her.
Nina’s brows furrowed as she read, her expression shifting from confusion to anger to something softer…maybe–protective? When she reached the end, she exhaled sharply and set the phone down with a quiet thud.
“That bastard,” she muttered. “Are you okay?”
I shrugged, my throat tightening. “I don’t know. I mean, I knew he might try something eventually, but seeing it–seeing his name pop up like that–it just… it feels like he’s not done with us.”
Nina reached out, her fingers wrapping around my arm, solid and reassuring. “Harper, listen to me. There’s no way he’s going to find you. You’ve covered every base. You’re safe here. Connor is safe here. He’s just trying to scare you.”
Her words made sense. They did. Though they didn’t erase the unease curling in my stomach. “I know you’re probably right, but…” My voice cracked, and I quickly looked away, blinking back the sting of tears. “I hate that he still has this hold on me. On us.”
Nina’s grip on my arm tightened. “Have you told Ryan?”
My head shot up, heart skipping. “No. And I’m not going to.”
“Harper–”
“No,” I cut her off, shaking my head. “I don’t want him to see me differently. To see us differently. Things are… they’re so good right now, and I don’t want to ruin it.”
Nina sighed, leaning against the counter. “I get it. I do. But Harper, the way Ryan looks at you…” She shook her head, a small smile tugging at her lips. “That man is crazy about you. There’s no way in hell he’d view you differently because of this. If anything, he’d just want to protect you more.”
I swallowed hard, her words settling deep in my chest like an anchor. “I’ll think about it,” I murmured. “Not tonight, though.”
Nina nodded. “Fair. But don’t carry this alone, okay?”
I gave a shaky nod, but deep down, I knew the weight of this was already pressing down too hard to keep from spilling over.
Before I could respond, the sound of the front door opening filled the house, followed by the clatter of boots on the entryway floor.
“Dinner delivery!” Shane called out, his voice booming through the house.
Ryan appeared in the kitchen doorway a moment later, a large bag of takeout containers in his hand. He glanced at me, his eyes lingering for just a second too long, a question clear in them. I forced a smile, pretending not to notice, and reached for the bag.
“Thank God,” Nina said, breaking the tension as she dramatically clutched her stomach. “I was about to raid the pantry and start eating crackers.”
Ryan smirked, but his gaze flicked back to me as I pulled out the food. I busied myself with opening containers, avoiding the weight of his concern.
We all gathered around the table, the scent of turkey and mashed potatoes filling the air as plates were passed around.
Connor chattered away, his voice full of excitement as he recounted every detail of the snowball fight.
His laughter was light, easy–so blissfully unaware of the storm brewing beneath my skin.
Across the table, Ryan’s eyes found mine more than once, the concern still there, just beneath the surface.
I tried to act normal. I smiled, I laughed, I contributed to the conversation when necessary. But my mind kept drifting back to that email, to the words that had yanked me out of the safety I’d built here.
After dinner, as I stood in the kitchen cleaning up, I found myself staring out the window. The snow-covered yard stretched before me, footprints crisscrossing the fresh powder. In the distance, the boys’ snow forts stood under the moonlight, their shapes softened by the night.
I could still hear Connor's laughter in my ears. I could still feel the warmth of the dinner table, of Ryan's quiet protectiveness, of Nina's unwavering support.
And Reid wanted to take that away from us.
My fingers tightened around the dish towel in my hands. I should tell Ryan. The thought whispered in the back of my mind, insistent, reasonable. He’d listen. He’d understand. He wouldn’t judge me. But that didn’t stop the fear from creeping in.
What if he started seeing me differently? What if, after everything, I’d finally let myself relax around him, only to have that shift? What if instead of the woman he laughed with, stole glances at across the dinner table, he started seeing me as someone fragile? Someone broken?
I didn’t want that.
The guilt curled in my stomach like something rotten.
I would tell Ryan. Eventually.
Tonight, I just wanted to hold onto the warmth, to pretend–just for a little while longer–that this bubble of safety and laughter wasn’t so fragile.