Chapter 17
Harper
I sink deeper between Cole's thighs on the couch, letting my head fall back against his chest as his fingers work through my hair. The tension in my temples begins to ease under his gentle massage.
“You're working too late again,” he says, his voice carrying that scolding tone I've grown used to over the past six weeks. “When was the last time you got a full night's sleep?”
“I sleep plenty,” I lie, closing my eyes as his thumbs find the knots at the base of my skull.
“Harper.” There's a warning in his voice.
“Fine. Maybe I've been pushing a little hard lately.” The understatement of the year. Between the Renegades events and the charity auction that's now three days away, I've been running on caffeine and determination.
Six weeks. That's how long we've been doing this dance. Stolen mornings, quiet dinners, nights tangled together in his bed or mine. Six weeks of keeping our relationship completely private, and somehow we've managed it. No one suspects anything, not even my observant team.
“These late hours are not good for you,” Cole says, sounding like a papa bear.
It makes me smile. Before I can argue back, the TV catches my attention. The program cuts to a commercial, then returns with a different segment.
Entertainment Weekly's Rising Stars in Event Planning. I tense, and so does Cole. We were waiting for this.
And there's my face, filling the screen.
“Would you look at that,” Cole says, his hands going still in my hair.
“Don't stop,” I say quickly, needing the comfort of his touch.
He laughs and resumes the massage as my voice fills the living room.
“Event planning is about creating moments that matter,” I say to the interviewer. “Whether it's a corporate gala or a charity auction, people remember how you made them feel.”
I cringe. Did I really sound that earnest? The interview was this morning, squeezed between vendor calls and a site visit for Saturday's auction. I'd barely had time to check my reflection before the cameras rolled.
Cole has gone quiet behind me, and my stomach tightens. The interviewer is asking about my biggest challenges, and I watch myself explain about timelines and logistics, trying to sound confident and knowledgeable.
But all I can think about is how young I look on screen, how inexperienced I must seem compared to the established players in this industry.
“The holiday auction for the New York Renegades is our most ambitious project yet,” I continue. “We're expecting to raise over half a million dollars for the children's hospital.”
Cole's fingers pause again, and I realize I'm holding my breath. The segment feels endless, every word I said now sounding wrong in my ears. Too eager, too rehearsed, not professional enough.
When it finally ends and cuts to the next story, the silence stretches between us.
I turn to look at him. “What did you think?”
His face breaks into a grin that could power half of Manhattan. “Are you kidding me? You were incredible. Professional, articulate, confident.” He cups my face in his hands. “I'm so proud of you.”
Relief floods through me. “Really? I felt like I was rambling.”
“You were perfect. That interviewer couldn't keep up with you.” He kisses the top of my head. “You looked like you belonged there.”
My phone starts ringing before I can respond. Ariel's name flashes on the screen.
“I just saw you on TV,” she shrieks before I can even say hello. “Harper, you were amazing. You looked so professional and put-together. I'm so proud of you.”
“Thanks,” I say, warmth spreading through my chest. “I was nervous it would come across badly.”
“Are you insane? You sounded like the expert you are. I'm going to watch again.”
After we hang up, the phone rings again. It’s Brett this time.
“Stubbs!” His voice is full of pride and excitement. “I just caught your interview on the hotel TV. You killed it!”
“You saw it?” I'm touched that he was watching.
“I caught the tail end. The guys were impressed, too. You represented the family name well.”
We talk for a few more minutes before he has to go. Cole is watching me with an amused expression, still running his fingers through my hair.
Then my phone rings a third time. This time I groan. It’s my mother.
“Harper, sweetheart.” My mother's voice is unusually animated. “Your father and I just watched your interview. We're so excited.”
“Really?” I sit up straighter, caught off guard by her enthusiasm.
“Oh yes, you looked so good. We recorded it to show the neighbors.” She pauses. “Speaking of family success, have you spoken to Brett? They're saying he might make sportsman of the year.”
And there it is. The familiar pivot away from my achievements to Brett's. My shoulders sag as my mother launches into a detailed recap of Brett's latest statistics, barely pausing for breath.
Cole must notice my expression change because he reaches for the phone.
“Mrs. Hayes?” he says, taking it from my hand and putting it on speaker phone. “This is Cole Maddox. I hope you don't mind me interrupting.”
I stare at him, wide-eyed.
“I just wanted to tell you how impressed I am with Harper's work. She's revolutionized our entire events program. She's exceeded every expectation we had.”
My mother is about to say something, but Cole doesn’t let her.
“The charity auction this weekend is projected to raise over half a million dollars,” Cole continues. “That's largely due to Harper's vision and execution. You should be very proud of her.”
“Oh,” my mother says. “Well, yes, we are. Harper has always been so organized.”
“She's much more than organized. She's brilliant at what she does. Her interview today showcased exactly why she's considered one of the rising stars in event planning in New York.”
After a few more minutes of Cole essentially forcing my mother to focus on my accomplishments, he hands the phone back. The rest of the conversation is mercifully brief, with my mother actually asking questions about my work instead of immediately redirecting to Brett.
“Thank you,” I say after I hang up. “You didn't have to do that.” But I have tears in my eyes. No one has ever defended me like that. Especially to my own parents.
“Yes, I did.” His voice is firm. “She needed to hear it.”
The gesture touches me more than I can express. Cole barely talks about his own family, and here he is, standing up for me with mine.
“What about your parents?” I ask, settling back against him. “You never mention them.” He’s told me a little about his mom, but nothing about his dad.
Cole is quiet for a moment as if trying to gather his thoughts. “Not much to say. It was just Mom and me. My dad dipped out when I was little. He tried to get back in touch when I got drafted, but I knew he was after money, and not a real relationship with me.”
I frown at the rug. “I’m sorry that happened,” I say, knowing that nothing I say will make it any better.
His fingers resume their gentle massage. “It is what it is. Brett’s been my family for years.” He pauses. “And now you're family too.”
The words turn me to mush. Family. Except, we’re keeping secrets, and families are permanent, and I don't know if we are.
“Speaking of Brett,” Cole continues, “I want to talk to him about us after Saturday's game.”
The Renegades have an away game with the Commanders on Friday. I haven’t told Cole yet, because I haven’t yet decided, but my plan is to fly in and out for the game. My entire body tenses. “What?”
“It's time, Harper. I'm tired of hiding this.”
“I don't think that's a good idea,” I say carefully.
“Why not? He's going to find out eventually. Better it comes from us.”
I can't voice the real reason. That I'm terrified this thing between us won't last, and then Brett will have to navigate the awkwardness of his best friend and sister's failed relationship. That telling people makes it real in a way that scares me.
“Let's just get through the auction first,” I say instead. “I need to focus on that.”
Cole doesn't argue, but I can feel his disappointment in the way his hands slow down. “How are you feeling about it?”
“Terrified,” I admit. “It's huge, Cole. Bigger than anything we've ever done. If we mess this up…”
“You won't mess it up. You've pulled off all our events so far, each one better than the last.”
“This is different. This is half a million dollars for charity.”
“Hey.” He tilts my chin up to look at him. “You've got this. I've watched you work. You think of everything, plan for every contingency. Saturday is going to be incredible.”
His confidence in me helps settle some of my nerves. I make a snap decision. “By the way, I’ll be in Boston too.” All the arrangements are in place, and if I fly to Boston in the afternoon and return on the eleven PM flight, I should be good.
Cole’s face lights up. “Oh yeah?”
I nod. “It’ll be tight. I’ll have to fly in and out, but I really want to be there.” I plant a kiss on his lips. “I want to see my two favorite men play.”
Cole grins. “That's incredible. Having you there will mean everything to me.” Then he frowns. “Does that mean you won't make it to the after party?”
“I could pop in for an hour or so before my flight back,” I say, then can't resist teasing him. “Though I'm not sure I can handle seeing all those women throw themselves at you.”
His response is immediate and gruff. “You're the only woman for me, Harper.”
All the air leaves my lungs. My heart does this fluttering, swooping thing that I've never experienced before. It's the way he said it, with such certainty, such fierce conviction that there's no room for doubt.
Part of me wants to deflect with another joke to lighten the moment, but I’m too touched to kid about this. “Cole,” I whisper, my voice catching slightly.
“I mean it,” he says, wrapping his hands around me. “There's no one else, Harper. There never will be.”
The vulnerability in his voice, the way his steel-blue eyes search mine for a reaction, makes my throat tight with emotion. This powerful, confident man is laying himself bare for me.
“I’m looking forward to seeing you in my jersey,” Cole says, lightening the moment.
“In your dreams, Maddox,” I throw back.
“Every night,” he says, and the teasing tone becomes more intimate.
His hands have moved from my hair to my shoulders, his thumbs tracing circles at the base of my neck. What started as a therapeutic massage is becoming something else entirely.
But I’m not complaining. “We should get some sleep,” I murmur, even as I lean into his touch.
“We should,” he agrees, but his hands are sliding down my arms now, leaving trails of heat in their wake.
When he stands and offers me his hand, I take it without hesitation. He leads me to his bedroom, and as we fall onto his bed together, I try to push away the uncertainty gnawing at me.
This feels real, feels permanent, but I've learned not to trust feelings. I've learned that people leave, that success can be fleeting, and that the only person you can really depend on is yourself.
But as Cole's hands map every inch of my skin, as he whispers my name like a prayer, I allow myself to pretend. Just for tonight, I let myself believe in forever.