Chapter 44
It had been over three weeks since I broke things off with Ryan, and I was still a mess.
The house felt emptier than ever, even with Connor’s constant chatter filling the space. Every corner seemed to hold a memory of Ryan–his laugh echoing in the kitchen, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world.
I hadn't slept much since that night. The war in my head hadn’t stopped, but now, instead of battling between my head and my heart, I was just trying to quiet the endless replay of his voice. His pleas. His pain.
And then there were the little things.
Like how every time the chime above the bakery door dinged, my heart stopped–just for a second–expecting, hoping, it would be him. But it never was.
Ryan hadn’t been in since that day. Not once.
I didn’t know where he was getting his coffee now, where he was picking up his usual chocolate croissant. The thought made my chest ache. Maybe he’d stopped coming because he couldn’t face seeing me. Or maybe… maybe he just didn’t want to anymore.
The only time I’d seen him was at the grocery store a few days ago. The moment I spotted him in the produce section, my stomach dropped. I didn’t think–I just turned around and ducked into the next aisle, my heart hammering like a guilty child avoiding trouble.
It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to him. I couldn’t.
Seeing him, hearing his voice, would’ve shattered what little resolve I had left.
He’d texted me once since then. Just once.
Ryan: Hey, you should get the winter tires changed soon. Let me know if you need help–I can come by and take care of them for you.
I stared at the message for longer than I should have, my fingers hovering over the screen. There were a hundred things I could’ve said. Thank you. I miss you. Please come back.
In the end, I settled on nothing. Because anything else felt like opening a door I wasn’t ready to face yet.
Later that evening, Nina showed up with a bottle of wine in one hand and a takeout bag in the other, Liam trailing behind her.
“Thought you could use some company,” she said, offering a small smile as she kicked off her boots.
“Thanks,” I mumbled, stepping aside to let them in.
Liam and Connor ran upstairs almost immediately, their excited voices disappearing down the hall.
Nina plopped onto the couch, setting the food and wine on the coffee table before turning to me. “Come on. Let’s eat and talk. Or just eat. Whatever you need.”
I sat beside her but couldn’t even muster the energy to open a container. The smell of food made my stomach turn.
“You’re not eating?” Nina asked, her tone probing.
I shook my head. “I can’t.”
She sighed, her brow furrowing. “Harper, are you sure this is what you want?”
Her question hit me like a slap. I stared at her, blinking back tears I refused to let fall. “No, Nina. This isn’t what I want, but it’s what I have to do.”
“Why?” Her voice sharpened, her frustration cutting through the quiet. “Why do you have to do this, Harper? Because I’ve been thinking about it, and I don’t get it. Ryan loves you. You love him. He’s been nothing but good to you and Connor. So why are you doing this to yourself?”
Anger bubbled up, hot and sharp. “Because I can’t trust him, Nina!” I snapped. “He didn’t tell me the truth. He hid something huge from me. I’ve been through this before, and I can’t–I won’t–put Connor through it, too.”
“Ryan is not Reid,” she said firmly, her eyes locked on mine. “And you know it. Deep down, you know it.”
I shook my head and stood abruptly, as if moving would make this conversation stop. “You don’t get it.”
“No, I do get it,” Nina countered, standing too. “You’re scared. And you have every right to be. But Harper, running away from love because you’re scared? That’s not strength. That’s fear. And fear is not going to protect you or Connor.”
Her words stung, cutting through the wall I’d built around my heart. “Thanks for the lecture,” I muttered, crossing my arms.
She sighed, her frustration softening as she stepped back. “I’m not trying to fight with you. I just hate seeing you like this, Harper. You deserve to be happy. And I think you know Ryan makes you happy.”
“Not everything is that simple,” I muttered.
Nina didn’t push further. The air between us went heavy, both of us picking at our food without another word. The clink of forks against takeout containers was the only sound, filling the silence neither of us seemed to be ready to break.
When her glass sat half-empty and the food was gone, she finally stood, gathering the empty containers. “We should get going. It’s late.”
I watched her call for Liam, my stomach twisting as I listened to the boys say their goodbyes. A part of me wanted to stop her, to make her sit back down and tell me I was right, that I had to do this, that I didn’t just throw away something good because I was scared.
But she wouldn’t. Because she knew the truth.
And the worst part?
So did I.
The door closed behind them, and the house felt impossibly quiet. I locked it, then just stood there, staring at the wood grain, my arms wrapped tightly around myself.
I hated that conversation. Hated that she didn’t just take my side and let me wallow in the choice I’d made.
I sank onto the couch, burying my face in my hands, exhaling shakily. Ryan is not Reid.
Of course I knew that. But knowing and believing were two different things. Years of convincing myself that love was dangerous had rewired something in me–that trusting the wrong person could cost me everything. That the safest choice was always the one that didn’t leave room for heartbreak.
Yet I was heartbroken anyway.
And if I was heartbroken, if Connor was heartbroken, then what was I even protecting us from?
I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to block out Nina’s voice, trying to ignore the ache in my chest.
Because if I let myself question that choice now, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to live with it.
The next morning, my phone buzzed with a text from Nina.
Nina: I’m sorry if I was too harsh last night. I’m on your side, no matter what. Always.
I smiled faintly, a mix of warmth and guilt settling in my chest. She was just looking out for me, even if it didn’t feel like it last night.
I typed back.
Harper: I’m sorry too. Thanks for being there, even when I’m a mess.
Her response came almost immediately.
Nina: That’s what best friends are for.
I set the phone down and stared out the window, watching as the sunlight streamed through, casting a golden glow across the room. For the first time in days, the ache in my chest felt just a little bit lighter, like maybe there was hope to find peace in the mess I’d created.
That afternoon I picked Connor up from school, and we walked home, his chatter filling the crisp air, cutting through the heavy thoughts that had weighed me down all day.
“We’re learning about the Aztecs in Social Studies!” he said, his voice bright with excitement. “Did you know they build floating gardens called chinampas? And their pyramids were, like, super tall. Taller than our old house!”
I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm. “Really? That’s pretty cool.”
“Yeah! And we have this project–we have to make an Aztec pyramid. Like, a real one! Well, not real, but realistic. Miss Larson said we should use stuff like cardboard or foam or even wood.”
I glanced down at him, his cheeks flushed pink from the chilly air, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Do you have a plan for how you want it to look?”
“Not yet,” he admitted, skipping a step ahead of me. “But I was thinking it should have stairs. And maybe, like, a temple thing at the top.”
The earnestness in his voice made my heart ache. His excitement was contagious, but it also reminded me of how hard I was trying to hold everything together–for him, for myself.
After dinner, we headed to the hardware store. The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly as we walked in, the smell of sawdust and paint filling the air. Connor tugged at my hand, practically bouncing with anticipation.
The aisles stretched endlessly, filled with tools, materials, and supplies I had no clue how to navigate. I grabbed a small basket, already feeling overwhelmed as I scanned the shelves.
“Foam? Wood? Glue?” I muttered to myself, my eyes darting over rows of products. “Paint? What even makes a good pyramid?”
“Do we need this?” Connor asked, holding up a bright yellow tube of caulk.
I laughed lightly, shaking my head. “No, definitely not that.”
He put it back with a dramatic sigh before wandering down the aisle ahead of me. I followed, trying to make sense of what we might need when Connor suddenly stopped. His face lit up like a Christmas tree.
“Ryan!” he shouted, and before I could stop him, he took off, weaving through the shelves toward the lumber section.
My stomach dropped, my pulse quickening.
I spotted him before Connor reached him.
He was in the lumbar aisle, looking at some wooden planks.
He had on a dark jacket and jeans, his hair slightly messy like he’d run his hands through it a hundred times.
He turned at the sound of Connor’s voice, his face softening into a smile as Connor ran up to him.
“Ryan!” Connor said again, practically bouncing on his toes. “I have to make an Aztec pyramid! But Mom doesn’t know what to get. Can you help us?”
Ryan crouched down to Connor’s level, his lips twitching into a small smile. “An Aztec pyramid, huh? That’s a pretty cool project. Do you have a blueprint? Or at least a rough idea of how you want it to look?”
Connor shook his head enthusiastically. “Nope! Just stairs and a temple!”
I approached them slowly, my heart in my throat. Ryan’s gaze lifted to mine, his expression cautious, like he was testing the waters.
“Hi,” I said softly, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Hey,” he said back, his eyes searching mine. He looked tired, his features drawn in a way that made my chest tighten. Though there was still kindness there, still him.