Chapter 49 Common Ground
Common Ground
Cole
I walk into the rink for practice with my shoulders tight, expecting the worst. Expecting another confrontation, another fight, another layer of shit to deal with. But when I see Liam by his stall, lacing up his skates, he looks up and our eyes meet.
He stands and walks over.
I brace myself, fists already clenching at my sides.
He extends his hand.
I stare at it for a second, trying to figure out the angle, the trick, what he's playing at. But there's nothing in his expression except exhaustion and something like acceptance.
I take his hand. We shake once, firm, and that's it.
No words. No apology. No grand gesture or emotional breakdown. Just a handshake that says what we both need it to say: we're done fighting. We're moving on. We're going to be teammates for the rest of the season, and then we'll probably never speak again, and that's okay.
He nods once and goes back to his stall.
I go to mine.
Practice is normal. We run drills, work plays, chirp each other the way teammates do. Liam and I end up paired for a passing drill, and it's fine. Not good, not like it used to be, but fine. Functional.
After practice, Sirus catches up with me in the parking lot.
"What the hell was that?" he asks.
"What was what?"
"You and Liam shaking hands like you just closed a business deal."
I shrug, throwing my bag in the truck. "We're good."
"You're good?"
"Yeah. We're good."
Sirus shakes his head. "You two are the most emotionally constipated people I've ever met."
I laugh.
"But you're actually okay?"
I think about it. Am I okay? Liam and I will never be best friends again. That part of our lives is over. But the weight that's been sitting on my chest for months feels lighter now. "Yeah. I'm actually okay."
"Good. Because Harper would kill me if you came home miserable again."
I laugh. "She really would."
When I get home that night, the smell hits me before I even open the door. Cookies. Actual baked cookies, which means either Harper has magically learned to bake or the smoke alarm is about to go off.
I walk into the kitchen and find my roommate, Finn, sitting at the table, looking mildly concerned, while Harper stands at the oven pulling out a tray of what actually look like real chocolate chip cookies.
"Don't get too excited," Finn warns. "I haven't tried one yet."
Harper glares at him. "They're fine. I followed the recipe exactly."
I walk over and wrap my arms around her from behind, pressing a kiss to her neck. "They smell good."
"Don't patronize me."
"I'm serious. They smell amazing." I reach for one, and she smacks my hand away.
"They're still hot."
"That's never stopped me before."
She turns in my arms and kisses me. "How was practice?"
"Good. Really good, actually."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. Liam and I... we're good."
Her eyebrows raise. "Good as in you're not going to murder each other, or good as in you're friends again?"
"Good as in we shook hands and moved on."
She studies my face, trying to figure out if I'm okay with that. "And you're happy with that?"
"I am. It's what we both need."
She nods slowly, then kisses me again. "Okay. Then I'm happy too."
"Are these cookies actually edible?" I ask, eyeing the tray.
"Why does everyone keep asking me that?"
"Because your track record with baked goods is not great, babe."
"I followed the recipe."
"You said that about the brownies too, and those somehow came out liquid."
Finn reaches for a cookie, takes a cautious bite, and his eyes widen. "Holy shit. These are actually good."
Harper beams. "See? I can bake."
"Let me try." I grab one and bite into it. It's warm and chocolate-y and actually delicious. "Okay, I'm impressed."
"You should be. I worked very hard on these."
"How many batches did it take?"
"That's classified information."
"Three," Finn says. "She burned two batches before these."
"Traitor," Harper mutters.
I laugh and pull her closer. "I'm proud of you for not setting off the smoke alarm."
"The bar is so low."
"But you cleared it. That's what matters."
After Finn retreats to his room with a handful of cookies, Harper and I are left alone in the kitchen. She's cleaning up, and I'm leaning against the counter watching her, thinking about how domestic this all is. How normal. How right.
"What?" she asks, catching me staring.
"Nothing. Just thinking about how good you look in my kitchen."
"Our kitchen."
"Our kitchen," I correct.
She sets down the dish towel and walks over to me. "You're being weird. What's going on?"
"I'm just happy."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." I cup her face, running my thumb along her cheek. "I'm really fucking happy, Harper."
She smiles, and it's the smile that made me fall for her in the first place. "Me too."
"Want to take these cookies to the bedroom?"
She raises an eyebrow. "Why would we—" Then understanding dawns, and she laughs. "Are you serious right now?"
"Dead serious. We've got cookies, we've got whipped cream in the fridge, we've got a perfectly good bedroom..."
"You have crazy ideas."
"And you love me."
"I do love you." She grabs the plate of cookies and the whipped cream from the fridge. "But if you get crumbs in the bed, you're washing the sheets."
"Deal."
We don't leave the bedroom for hours. The cookies end up everywhere—on the sheets, on our skin, on the floor where Rex will probably find them later.
The whipped cream is even worse. But Harper's laughing, and I'm laughing, and somewhere between the mess and the sweetness and the ridiculous fun of it all, I think about how this is what I want for the rest of my life.
Not the cookies specifically. But this. Her. Us. The easy way we fit together even when things get messy.
Later, when we're cleaned up and lying tangled together in fresh sheets, Harper traces patterns on my chest.
"I'm glad you and Liam made peace," she says quietly.
"Me too."
She falls asleep before I do, her breathing evening out, her body warm against mine. I lie awake for a while, thinking about everything that's happened this year. The fights, the drama, the almost-losing her.
But we made it. We're here. And tomorrow, we'll wake up and choose each other again, and the day after that, and the day after that.
That's enough.
That's everything.