Chapter 34
Dinner was at one of Kyle’s favourite pubs, the kind of place that had seen better days but still had plenty of charm.
The weathered wood tables had initials carved into them, the jukebox in the corner was at least two decades out of date, and the whole place smelled like beer, fried food, and bad decisions.
We snagged a booth near the back, where it was quieter, ordering burgers and fries. Kyle, as usual, was in his element.
The moment our waitress–a brunette, with a bright smile and an easy laugh–walked up, he was ready.
“Well, hey there,” Kyle drawled, flashing a grin so lethal it should’ve been registered as a deadly weapon. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
She arched an eyebrow but smiled back. “Jess.”
“Jess,” he repeated slowly, like he was rolling the name around on his tongue. “You must be new here. I’d definitely remember you if I’d seen you before.”
She let out a short laugh, shaking her head as she scribbled down our orders. “And you must be Kyle. You’ve got a bit of a reputation around here.”
Kyle put a hand to his chest, feigning innocence, and for some reason, when he spoke again, there was a lazy southern twang in his voice. “A reputation? Me? Now that just breaks my heart. I swear, it’s all vicious lies. I’m nothing but a perfect gentleman.”
“Sure you are,” Jess teased, her eyes sparkling as she turned to walk away. “I’ll get your orders in.”
I nearly choked on my water. “What the hell was that?”
“What?” he asked, all wide-eyed innocence.
“That… accent,” I said, pointing at him. “You’ve never sounded like that in your life.”
He just grinned, leaning back in his chair. “Gotta keep things fresh, Barzal. Works every time.”
I rolled my eyes. “You’re incorrigible.”
“Hey, life’s too short not to charm a pretty lady when you can.” He shrugged, completely unapologetic, before taking a sip of his beer. “Besides, it’d be a crime to deprive the world of this smile.”
When Jess returned with our drinks, Kyle was right back at it–laying on the charm, cracking jokes, and making her laugh like she’d known him forever. I just shook my head, sipping my beer as I watched the show. Kyle might be in a wheelchair, but that didn’t stop him from owning any room he entered.
After Jess left us alone to eat, Kyle shifted gears, his grin turning sly. “So… how’s Harper?”
I paused mid-bite, giving him a side-eye. “You been keeping tabs on me, or did you just guess?”
Kyle smirked. “Nah, man. You’ve barely stopped smiling since you sat down. That’s not just good beer and greasy food–there’s a woman behind that.”
I huffed a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, well. She’s good. So is Connor.” Just saying their names out loud made something warm settle in my chest.
Kyle raised a brow. “Connor? That her kid?”
I nodded. “Yeah. He’s ten. Great kid.”
Something in Kyle’s expression shifted–softer, maybe a little more thoughtful–he didn’t poke at it, though. “Damn. Didn’t see you as the instant family type.”
“Me neither.” I took a sip of my beer, rolling the bottle between my hands. “But it doesn’t feel instant, you know? It feels right.”
Kyle grinned. “Look at you. Soft as hell.”
I flipped him off, and he just laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Nah, I think it’s great. You’ve got someone now. About time.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, taking another bite of my burger, though I couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at my lips.
The conversation flowed easily from there. Kyle filled me in on the new team–new recruits, a kid who’d just joined from three hours away, and another who was being scouted for the national program. The pride in his voice was unmistakable, and I felt it too.
As Jess came by to clear our plates, Kyle flashed her another grin. “Thanks, Jess. You’ve been amazing tonight. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”
She chuckled, shaking her head. “I’ll try to remember that. You two have a good night.”
Kyle waited until she was out of earshot before turning back to me with a satisfied look. “See? Totally charmed.”
“You’re impossible,” I said, laughing despite myself.
The mood shifted, though, when Kyle glanced at me, his tone softening. “You seem happy, man. Really happy. And I’m really glad for you. You deserve it.”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut. Happy? Did I seem happy? I was happy–more than I’d been in years. Harper and Connor had brought so much light into my life, but Kyle’s words unearthed the guilt that always lurked under the surface.
I forced a nod and a small smile but didn’t say anything. The rest of dinner passed in a blur, Kyle doing most of the talking while I wrestled with the weight of his words.
When we got back to Kyle’s place, I was still stuck in my own head. I dropped my jacket over the arm of the couch and sank into the seat, staring out at the dark stretch of land beyond the window.
Kyle rolled up beside me, his tone flat. “Alright, what’s eating at you?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. “Just tired.”
“Bullshit.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m not Shane–I’m not gonna sit here and let you mope so I can pretend I didn’t notice and feel better about it. Spit it out. Is it Harper?”
Finally, the words came out like I’d been holding them too long.
“I’m happy, Kyle. With Harper, with Connor.
It’s everything I didn’t think I’d have again.
But every time I let myself feel that… I think about you.
What I did. How I ended your career. How you’re in that chair because of me. I don’t deserve to be happy.”
His jaw tightened. “You done?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, voice harder now. “You just said it. I’m the one in the chair, man, not you. Me. And I’ve never once blamed you. But this–” he gestured at me “–this guilt trip you’ve been on for years? It’s gotta stop.”
I shook my head. “You don’t get it–”
“No, you don’t get it,” he cut in, sharp enough to make me shut up. “You think dragging yourself through the mud changes anything? You think it fixes my legs? Makes me play again? All it does is keep you from living your life, and it’s getting old.”
His words stung, but I didn’t move, didn’t look away.
Kyle’s mouth twisted. “You want to feel sorry for someone, go ahead. But don’t pretend it’s for me. You’re doing it for you. You’re using me as an excuse to punish yourself because it’s easier than letting go.”
That one landed like a hit to the gut.
He leaned back, shaking his head. “I’m not saying this to make you feel better. I’m saying it because you’re wasting what you’ve got, and that’s on you. Not me. Not what happened. You.”
I couldn’t answer. There was nothing to say that didn’t sound like another excuse.
Kyle finally wheeled toward the hallway. “I’m gonna grab a beer. You want one, get it yourself.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me with nothing but the echo of his words and the cold truth that he was right–I’d been living with guilt since my mom died.
Blaming myself. And then Kyle’s accident.
I didn’t know how to live without it, without making myself think I didn’t deserve happiness.
The next couple of days blurred together.
Kyle didn’t bring up our talk again. He didn’t dance around me or treat me any differently–just kept being himself. Joking with the kids. Giving me crap over my shot accuracy. Acting like we’d never had that conversation in the first place.
Maybe that was his way of giving me space, or maybe he just knew pushing me any harder right now would make me dig my heels in.
Either way, I was still fighting a war with myself.
Every quiet moment, every time I caught myself thinking about Harper and Connor, the guilt came roaring back–louder, heavier. I kept replaying the last thing Kyle had said, the edge in his voice when he told me I was wasting what I had.
He wasn’t wrong.
One thing was crystal clear: if I didn't tell Harper soon, I was going to push her away. And that was the one thing I couldn’t let happen. Not now. Not ever.
By the time I rolled into Brookhaven, the afternoon sun was bright, glinting off the snow piled along the sidewalks. The streets were busier than I expected for a weekday–people ducking in and out of shops, bundled up against the cold.
My first stop was the bakery. I pulled into the small parking lot, spotting Benny through the front window as he wiped down the counter. The place smelled like fresh bread and coffee, the kind of scent that made the world feel a little softer, a little more right.
Before getting out, I grabbed my phone, scrolling through my messages. Nothing from Harper.
I frowned. That was weird.
I’d texted her last night–a simple goodnight, told her I missed her. Then again this morning before I left, letting her know I was on my way back. She always texted back. Even if it was just a sleepy reply, or a little heart, or something about how Connor was already bouncing off the walls.
My messages were still sitting there, though, unread.
A flicker of unease crept in, but I pushed it down. Maybe she’d slept in. Maybe she was just busy.
I slid my phone back into my pocket and stepped inside, already looking around, expecting to see Harper bustling behind the counter, her hair pulled back, flour dusting her apron. But she wasn’t there.
My smile faltered.
Benny looked up, grinning. “Ryan! Didn’t know you were back yet. Need something?”
“Morning, Benny.” I walked up to the counter, glancing toward the back. “Where’s Harper?”
“She called in sick,” Benny said, setting down his rag. “Poor things got a stomach bug or something.”
A knot tightened in my gut. Harper never called in sick. She was the kind of person who showed up no matter what.
I forced my voice to stay casual. “Oh. Did she say anything else?”
“Nope, just that she wasn’t feeling well.” He hesitated, then scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, wait. I almost forgot. There was this guy here last night, right before we closed, asking about her.”
I stiffened. “What guy?”
Benny shrugged, his frown deepening. “Said he was her cousin. Seemed kinda off, though. I didn’t give him any info–he was asking about Connor…
.” His words trailed off, and I watched the color drain from his face.
Benny’s eyes darted up to mine, widening as the pieces clicked together.
My stomach dropped before he even said a word.
Everything inside me went razor-sharp in an instant.
Benny looked like he was about to say more, but I was already moving.
I shoved through the door, yanking my phone from my pocket. I called Harper.
Straight to voicemail.
“Fuck,” I tried again. Same result.
The knot in my stomach twisted tighter. Sliding into the driver’s seat, my hands locked around the wheel until my knuckles went white.
Something wasn’t right–every nerve in my body screamed it.
The engine roared as I floored it, heading straight for her house.
I pulled into Harper’s driveway, my tires crunching against the gravel. My chest tightened as I scanned the property. Mrs. Knox’s house next door was dark, her car gone. Right–she was away visiting her grandkids for a couple of weeks.
The unease in my gut clawed its way up to my chest. Something was wrong.
I jumped out of the truck, barely registering the slam of the door behind me. My boots thudding against the porch steps as I took them two at a time. As I reached for the doorknob, something in the corner of my eye stopped me.
I turned, looking through the window.
My heart fucking stopped.
Harper.
She was slumped in the armchair, her head bowed, one arm gripping the armrest like it was the only thing holding her upright. When she lifted her face, the air in my lungs vanished.
Her eye was swollen shut, an ugly bruise darkening her delicate skin. Her lip was split, a thin trail of blood streaking down her chin. A gash above her temple seeped, staining her hair, leaving crimson streaks on her cheek.
A cold blinding rage ripped through me.
Who did this?
Before I could move, a figure stepped into view. A man. He stood in front of her, back to me, blocking my view of her entirely. I didn’t even have to see his face to know exactly who it was.
Reid.
My muscles locked. My breath came in sharp, shallow bursts.
I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but Harper flinched–so small, so quick, like she was trying not to. Or maybe it was the way she exhaled, a shaky breath, barely controlled, like she was forcing herself to stay calm.
The world around me blurred, narrowing to the sight of him standing over her.
My hand shot out, gripping the doorknob, pure fury simmering beneath my skin. My pulse pounded in my ears, drowning out everything but the need to get to her.
I twisted the knob.
And shoved the door open.