Chapter 47 Ryan
I was making the right choice.
At least, that’s what I kept telling myself.
The day after Kyle told me about the job, Jeff–the head coach of the national sledge hockey team–had called me himself.
His voice was warm, steady, but there’d been an edge of urgency too.
He didn’t just want me to fill a spot for the summer; he wanted me on board long-term.
Said the team needed me. That the program needed someone like me to help push them further.
I’d listened, the weight of his words heavy in my chest. How could I say no? This wasn’t just any opportunity. This was the national team. This was about more than me, more than the guilt I carried, more than the doubt gnawing at my insides.
So two weeks ago, I’d texted Kyle and Jeff: I’m in, I’d said. I was going to take the coaching gig… For the summer, at least.
Now, sitting here, trying to quiet the doubt gnawing at my chest, I wasn’t so sure.
I’d tried to tell Harper last week. Sent her a message, asked if we could talk. But she hadn’t made the time. She didn't owe me anything–I knew that–but I’d hoped… hell, I didn’t know what I’d hoped for.
Maybe a chance to tell her in person. To sit her down, explain why I was doing this, reassure her that I wasn’t just packing up and leaving for two months without a word. I would never do that. Especially not to Connor.
God, Connor.
The thought of leaving him made my chest ache. He’d become such a big part of my life–bigger than I’d expected, bigger than I’d even realized was possible. That kid looked at me like I hung the damn moon, and I never wanted to let him down.
But Harper… Harper was the reason this decision was killing me.
She let me see Connor, and I was grateful for that. More than grateful, honestly. But it was always just the two of us–me and him. Never the three of us together. Never anything more.
It wasn’t remotely close to how it used to be.
And I missed it. God, I missed it.
I missed her.
I missed the way she’d throw her head back when she laughed at something completely ridiculous I said, the sound so carefree it made me forget every bad thing I’d ever done.
I missed the way she bit her bottom lip when she was concentrating, how it made me want to kiss the thought right out of her head.
The way her hair smelled when she was pressed up against me.
The way her fingers traced lazy, featherlight lines down my back, like she didn’t have a care in the world.
And her body–Jesus. The way she fit against me, like she was made to be there. The way her nails would dig into my shoulders when we–
I scrubbed a hand over my face, groaning. Thinking about her like that wasn’t helping.
She didn’t hate me. She was civil. Even kind, sometimes. Though it didn’t feel like we were anywhere close to what we used to be. No matter how hard I tried to show her that I wasn’t that guy anymore–that I wasn’t the person the media had made me out to be–it didn’t seem to matter.
Her walls were still up.
I didn’t blame her. After everything she’d been through, after everything I’d done, those walls were probably the only thing keeping her standing for a long time. But damn, they were strong.
And I couldn’t seem to break through.
My gaze flicked to my phone on the coffee table, temptation clawing at me to text her again, even though I knew it wouldn’t change anything. She had her reasons, and I respected them.
That didn't make it any easier to sit here, though, knowing that in just a few days, I’d be leaving.
Leaving her. Leaving Connor. Even if only for a couple months.
I’d told myself this was the right decision. That I couldn't keep waiting around forever, hoping she’d take me back.
That if I ever wanted to be the kind of man she could trust again, I had to stop holding my breath and actually live my life.
But no matter how many times I repeated it, it didn’t make it hurt any less.
And the worst part? I wished I could’ve talked to her about it.
Harper would’ve known exactly what to say. She would’ve told me I was making the right call. That this was something worth doing. That I wasn’t abandoning anyone–I was building something important.
She would’ve believed in me. Just like she always used to. But I ruined it. Before I gave her every reason not to.
I exhaled sharply, scrubbing a hand over my jaw before pushing up from the couch. Sitting here, drowning in what-ifs, wasn’t going to change a damn thing.
Kyle had come back into town earlier in the week, supposedly to help me pack and get things sorted for training camp. Mostly, though, he and Shane had been on my ass, trying to drag me out for drinks, telling me I needed a break before everything got hectic.
I wasn’t up for it.
Hadn’t been all day.
The buzz of my phone cut through the silence, and I already knew who it was before I reached for it.
Shane: We need a ride from the pub to karaoke.
I grunted, tapping the message. Last thing I wanted to do tonight was play chauffeur.
Ryan: Busy.
A beat passed. Then another.
Shane: No, you’re not. You’re just sitting at home sulking. Let’s go.
I sighed. Asshole wasn’t wrong. That didn’t mean I was about to humour him, though. I set my phone down, rubbing my hands over my face.
The phone buzzed again.
Shane: Harper’s here. She needs a ride too.
I froze.
Harper was there?
With Kyle?
Shit. Did they tell her?
My stomach clenched. This wasn’t how she was supposed to find out.
I ran a hand through my hair, heart hammering against my ribs. Damn it. I didn’t want her to think I was sneaking off without saying anything. I wasn’t trying to run–I’d planned to tell her. To tell Connor.
But she never answered me. And now? Now she was at a bar, probably hearing about it from Kyle. The thought made me feel sick.
Ryan: I’m on my way.
I shoved my phone in my pocket, pacing the living room. Shit. Shit. Shit.
What the hell was I supposed to say when I saw her? Would she think I was bailing on her? That I’d planned on slipping away without a word? That I didn’t care.
My jaw tightened.
I hated that she might believe that.
Hated even more that I hadn’t given her much of a reason not to.
For half a second, I considered blowing it off. Just staying here, avoiding the inevitable fallout.
Then I thought about Harper’s face when she found out–from someone who wasn’t me.
I grabbed my keys and headed for the door.
The drive felt like it took forever, every mile stretched tight with doubts and second-guessing. Turning back wasn’t an option, though.
I had to face her.
And I had no idea what I was going to say.
I exhaled hard, rubbing a hand over my jaw as I pulled into the parking lot. The pub was packed, the glow of the neon sign casting long shadows across the pavement. Music and laughter spilled from the entrance as a group of people stepped outside, their voices loud and carefree.
I wasn’t carefree. I was fucking terrified. I ran a hand through my hair and stepped inside.
Harper.
I spotted her immediately.
She was sitting in a booth, laughing at something Kyle had said, her head tilted back just slightly.
Her hair cascaded down her shoulders, the soft green wrap dress she wore hugging her curves in a way that made my mouth go dry.
Her legs were crossed at the ankle, her boots making them look impossibly long.
For a moment, I stood still, watching her with a mixture of longing and regret. I hadn't realized how much I missed her–how much I still missed her. She looked beautiful, happier than I’d seen her in weeks, and it made something inside of me ache.
But it wasn’t for me. She wasn’t looking at me like that anymore.
As if sensing me, she glanced up. Her eyes met mine, and for a brief second, the world seemed to stop. Her smile was soft, hesitant, but real.
“Hi.”
My heart damn near stopped in my chest.
“Hey,” I managed, my voice rougher than I wanted it to be. My pulse pounded in my ears. The silence stretched, thick and charged. She was waiting for me to say something–I could feel it. Before I could, Shane piped up from across the table.
“About damn time you got here,” he said grinning. “What, were you doing your hair?”
I rolled my eyes, feeling a little of the tension break. “Something like that,” I said dryly, shoving my hands in my jacket pockets.
Shane nodded toward Kyle. “You’re the designated driver now, by the way. Kyle’s had a few beers, and I’m definitely not sober enough to drive later.”
Kyle chuckled, raising his glass in mock salute.
Nina, sitting next to him, rolled her eyes. I caught Harper’s gaze again, and I swear my chest tightened. She was looking at me now, her fingers absently playing with her glass, something in her expression I couldn’t quite place.
I wanted to say something to her. Ask her how she was doing. Maybe apologize again. But I couldn’t find the right words. It felt like no matter what I said, I’d only make things worse.
Instead, I gave her a small nod and slid into the seat next to Shane, forcing my attention to the others at the table. All I could think about was her, though. The way her eyes lingered on me. The way she smiled, like she was trying so damn hard to hold it together.
This was going to be harder than I thought.
The air in the pub buzzed with noise–clinking glasses, low music, bursts of laughter from other tables–but all of it faded into the background.
I was too aware of her.
Too aware of the way her fingers traced absent patterns on her glass, the way her eyes flickered toward me when she thought I wasn’t looking.
She had been quiet tonight. Not in a bad way, just in a way that told me she was comfortable letting the conversation move around her. She didn’t need to force herself to fill the space.
And God, I missed that.
I missed sitting next to her, hearing her thoughts, feeling her lean into me when she was tired.
Tonight, though, I was just another person at the table. And that was my own damn fault.