Chapter 48 Harper
The morning sun peeked through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the room. I stretched lazily, a satisfied hum escaping as last night’s karaoke still played in the back of my mind. Things with Ryan had almost felt normal.
But they weren’t. They couldn’t be.
Because normal would have been reaching for him. Wrapping my arms around his neck, feeling the warmth of his chest against mine. Letting him hold me like he used to.
I sighed, pushing the thought away as I turned my head. Nina was still out cold, her arm draped over the edge of the bed, mouth slightly open. I smirked, slipping out of bed as quietly as possible and grabbing my jacket. Coffee. That’s what I needed. Something warm and grounding, something simple.
Before the word could even settle in my mind, he was there again–Ryan. The way his eyes had lingered on me, the heat that had curled low in my stomach at just a glance. God, even here, even now, he slipped into my head as easily as breath.
The warm morning air wrapped around me as I stepped outside, already carrying the promise of heat.
The town stirred to life in that slow, lazy way only summer seemed to allow–doors propped open to coax in a breeze, the distant buzz of a lawn mower, and the faint scent of blooming flowers carried in the air.
Birds chirped overhead, their songs blending with the distant hum of an engine rolling down the quiet street.
I tucked my hands into my pockets, letting the familiar path to the coffee shop ground me.
Last night had been effortless. The kind of effortless that made me forget–for a moment–that Ryan wasn’t mine anymore. He had laughed with me, teased me, looked at me the way he used to. And damn, if it hadn’t made everything hurt just a little more.
Then there had been that moment. The guy at the bar asking for Benny’s number–Ryan’s entire face tightening like he’d been punched in the stomach. He’d looked jealous. Genuinely jealous.
I hadn’t meant to enjoy it, but I did. Because it meant he still cared.
I felt bad that he’d had that moment of terror. Not enough to regret it, though. Because for once, it felt like I wasn’t the only one hurting.
And when I told him I already knew about him leaving–he’d looked scared. Not defensive, not frustrated. Scared. Like he thought I might shut him out completely. Like he thought it would break whatever fragile thing existed between us.
And maybe that was my fault. No, it was my fault. I’d made him feel that way. I hadn’t let him tell me. That guilt sat heavy in my chest, mingling with everything else I wasn’t sure how to deal with.
Up ahead, a figure slumped on a bench near the fountain caught my eye. His head was in his hands, body hunched forward in pure misery. Even from a distance, I could tell.
I squinted. “Shane?”
He looked up, groaning like the movement physically pained him. His sunglasses barely concealed the dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was sticking up in every direction.
“Oh, great,” he muttered. “You’re here to judge me, aren’t you?”
I laughed, stopping in front of him. “Judge you? Never. I am curious, though–how are you even awake right now?”
“Barely.” He rubbed his temples, voice hoarse. “Who thought tequila shots were a good idea? Oh right–me. I regret everything.”
“Sounds about right,” I smirked. “Want me to grab you some coffee? You look like you need it more than I do.”
“I’ll survive.” He didn’t sound convincing. “What are you doing out here so early, anyway?”
“Getting coffee for me and Nina. Thought I’d be productive while she sleeps off last night.” I hesitated, then grinned. “Unlike some people.”
He groaned dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. “You’re lucky I like you, Bishop.”
I chuckled, sitting on the bench beside him, stretching my legs out in front of me. The morning was crisp, but the sun was warming the town little by little, the quiet hum of life beginning to stir around us.
I hadn’t expected to run into Shane this morning, but maybe it was a good thing.
Because Ryan and Kyle had been together last night–talking, joking, catching up like no time had passed.
Like there was no resentment between them at all.
They had started this hockey program. They were friends.
Close friends. Not two people with bad blood between them.
Had I gotten it all wrong?
I hesitated, glancing sideways at Shane. “So… Kyle and Ryan, huh? Still friends after everything. That’s impressive.”
Shane turned his head slowly, frowning at me like I’d just grown a second head. “Why wouldn’t they be?”
I chewed my lip, unsure if I should even bring it up. “Well… because of the hit. Kyle’s injury. I mean, I read the articles. It sounded pretty bad…”
Shane froze, blinking at me like I’d just said something absurd. “Harper… that was an accident.”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“An accident,” he repeated firmly. “A clean hit. Completely clean. You think Ryan would have done something dirty? To Kyle, of all people?”
“I–I don’t know,” I stammered. “The article’s made it sound–”
“The article’s,” Shane interrupted, his voice sharp, “were written by people who weren’t on the ice that day. Who weren’t in the locker room. Hell, they weren’t even in the same time zone when it happened.”
I stayed quiet, stunned by the intensity in his tone.
Shane sighed, running a hand through his already messy hair.
“Look, I was there. It was a textbook check. Kyle had the puck, Ryan went in, shoulder-to-shoulder. Yeah, it was an aggressive hit, but it’s the NHL–every hit is aggressive, even if you’re friends with the guy.
Ryan’s hit was as clean as it gets. But then Kyle’s skate hit a rough patch in the ice, and he lost his balance.
The way he landed…” He trailed off, shaking his head. “It was just bad luck. Freak accident.”
My stomach twisted. I’d read about that game, about that hit. And maybe I hadn’t believed all of it, but I had believed some of it. That Ryan had been reckless.
“But everyone said–”
“Who’s everyone? The media?” Shane’s jaw tightened. “The media turned Ryan into a villain because it made a good story,” he snapped. “A veteran NHL star takes out his best friend in a ‘dirty’ hit? People ate it up. But it wasn’t true. None of it was true.”
“Why didn’t he fight back?” I asked quietly.
“Because he thought he deserved it,” Shane said bitterly. “Ryan blamed himself, even though it wasn’t his fault. He couldn’t shake it. He quit the NHL because of it.”
I swallowed hard, guilt creeping into my chest. “I didn’t realize…”
“Of course you didn’t,” Shane muttered, his tone softening. “Nobody did. The fans turned on him, the media wouldn’t leave him alone, and he just… shut down. It was bad. Like, really bad. The only thing that got him out of it was Kyle.”
“Kyle?” I echoed, surprised.
Shane nodded. “Kyle was the one who told him to stop being an idiot. Told him to stop blaming himself. But even then, it’s taken time. Ryan lost everything–his career, his reputation. And after losing his mom on top of it all? He fell apart, Harper. Completely.”
My chest ached. “I… I didn’t know,” I whispered.
Shane’s gaze was piercing. “Have you let him explain any of this to you? Or did you just assume the worst like everyone else?”
I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. Because the truth was, I hadn’t given him the chance. I had drawn my own conclusions, let my own fears and assumptions guide me.
Shane sighed, leaning back on the bench.
“I was there through it all, you know. Even after he and Kyle set up this program together, the guilt still ate him alive. He’d go visit Kyle, spend a few days with him, with the kids.
And when he came back? Sometimes I wouldn’t hear from him for weeks.
He’d just disappear–lock himself in his house, avoid everyone, like punishing himself was the only thing he knew how to do. Every damn time, Harper.”
I swallowed hard, picturing it. Ryan alone in his house, drowning in guilt he couldn’t shake.
“But then you and Connor came around,” Shane continued, his voice softer now. “And those weeks he used to shut himself away? They disappeared. He was back. Laughing. Coaching. Being himself again. You changed everything for him.”
“Me?” My voice barely made a sound.
“You and Connor,” Shane said firmly. “You brought him back to life, Harper. Don’t you think he deserves a chance to explain?”
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“Look, I get it. Ryan’s not perfect. None of us are. But he’s a good guy. The best guy I know.” He trailed off, a small smile tugging at his lips. Then he stood, patting me on the shoulder. “Think about it, Harp. Ryan deserves that much.”
And with that, he walked away, leaving me sitting on the bench with my thoughts swirling like a storm.
I sat there on the bench long after Shane had left, his words looping through my head, unraveling everything I thought I knew.
Ryan hadn’t hurt Kyle. Not intentionally. Not even close. And yet, he had carried the weight of it all like a punishment he thought he deserved.
I let out a slow breath and finally pushed myself up, my legs stiff as I grabbed our coffee and started the walk back to the house. The morning air felt heavier now, thick with all the things I couldn’t quite process.
By the time I stepped inside, closing the door softly behind me, the quiet pressed in. The air was still, carrying the faint scent of coffee and cinnamon from yesterday morning. I slipped off my shoes, hung my jacket on the hook, and stood there for a beat, my mind still spinning.
Thank God Nina was still asleep. I needed the silence, needed a minute to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts pounding in my skull.
I crept past the stairs and sank onto the couch, my elbows on my knees, my head in my hands.
What the fuck?