Chapter 20
Cole
The morning sunlight streams through the windows as Harper and I sit at my kitchen island, having breakfast. She's wearing one of my old Renegades t-shirts that hangs loose on her frame, her hair pulled back in a messy bun, and she looks absolutely perfect.
“Noah called yesterday,” she says, taking a sip of her coffee. “The apartment is ready. All the repairs are done.”
I pause with my fork halfway to my mouth. “That's great news.”
“I should probably move back this week.” She's not looking at me, focusing instead on pushing scrambled eggs around her plate.
The thought of this apartment without Harper in it makes panic rise up my throat. “I like having you here.”
“I know, but—”
“Stay,” I say, the word ripping out of my mouth. “Move in with me. Officially.”
Her eyes widen. “Cole, we haven't even told our families about us yet.”
“I’m telling Brett today. And my mom, when she comes for next week's game.” I reach across to take her hand. “I'm tired of hiding, Harper.”
“Our families, yes. But not the press. Not yet.”
“Why not?”
She pulls her hand away, and I can see those familiar walls going up. “Because the second this gets out, every success I have will be questioned. People will say I only got the Renegades contract because I'm sleeping with the captain.”
“That's bullshit, and you know it. You earned everything you have.”
“Yes, but the world doesn’t know that.” Her voice is small and vulnerable, and it cuts through me.
“Let them think what they want. You know the truth. I know the truth.”
She shakes her head. “You don't understand. You've never had to prove yourself the way I have. You're Cole Maddox. You've been successful since you were eighteen. I've had to fight for every single opportunity.”
“And you earned every single one of them.” I stand up, pacing to the window. “I want to show you off to the world, Harper. I want everyone to know I'm the luckiest man alive because I get to be with you.”
“And I want to be with you without having my professional reputation destroyed in the process.”
The doorbell rings, cutting through our argument. I frown, checking my watch. It's barely nine AM on a Sunday.
“Are you expecting someone?” Harper asks.
“No.” I walk to the intercom panel. “Julius?”
“Mr. Maddox, you have a visitor. Mr. Brett Hayes.”
My blood runs cold. “Send him up.”
“What's Brett doing here?” Harper asks, panic evident in her voice.
“I don't know, but we're about to find out.” I run a hand through my hair. “Maybe this is for the best. We can tell him together.”
The elevator chimes, and I open the door before Brett can knock. I grin at him and step aside to let him in. “Hey, nice surprise. You could have called first—”
His fist connects with my jaw before I can finish the sentence. Stars explode across my vision as I stumble backward.
“What the fuck!” I shout, my hand going to my face.
“You son of a bitch!” Brett's voice is raw with rage. “How long have you been sleeping with my sister?”
Harper appears in the doorway, her face pale with shock. “Brett, what are you doing?”
“I came to check on my sister,” he snarls, his eyes never leaving mine. “Imagine my surprise when I find out that my best friend has been fucking her.”
My stomach drops. Shit.
“Brett, let me explain—” Harper starts.
“Explain what? That you've been lying to me for months?” Brett's attention turns to his sister, and his expression shifts from rage to hurt. “How long, Harper? How long have you been sneaking around behind my back?”
“We weren't sneaking around,” I say, stepping protectively in front of Harper. “We were being private.”
“Private?” Brett lets out a bitter laugh. “Is that what you call it when you seduce my little sister?”
“I didn't seduce anyone,” I snap. “And Harper's not a child. She can make her own decisions.”
“Can she?” Brett's eyes are cold. “I know you, Cole. You're capable of a lot, but love isn't one of them. You’re using her.”
Harper tenses behind me.
Brett turns back to his sister. “How could you fall for this? He's using you, Harper. The second his career is on the line, the second hockey calls, you'll be nothing but a memory.”
“That's not true,” Harper says, but her voice wavers.
“I never took you for a fool, but you are.” With that, he whirls around and storms to the elevator, leaving a deafening silence in his wake.
I gently pull Harper inside, my jaw throbbing. “Let me handle this. I'll go after him.”
“No.” She touches my arm. “Let him cool down first. You're both too angry right now.”
She’s right. Right now, Brett is not in the right mind frame to listen to reason. I close the door and lean against it, my head spinning from both the punch and Brett's words.
“I'm so sorry,” Harper says, her hands fluttering around my face. “I can't believe he hit you.”
“It's fine. I would have done the same thing if our positions were reversed.”
She disappears into the kitchen and returns with a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a dish towel. “Sit down. Let me look at your eye.”
I settle onto the couch, and she gently presses the makeshift ice pack to my swelling eye. Her touch is tender, but there’s guilt written all over her face.
“This isn't your fault,” I tell her.
“It is. I should have let you tell him. I knew Brett would react badly.”
“He'll come around. He just needs time to process.”
She's quiet for a moment, dabbing at the cut on my cheekbone. “What did he mean when he said you'll choose hockey over me?”
I sigh. “Brett only knows the old version of me, Harper. The version that put hockey above everything else, including relationships.”
“And is that who you are?” she asks in a trembling voice.
“It was.” I catch her hand, stilling her movements. “I've had a lot of women in my life, but I've never loved any of them. Never committed to anyone. Brett knows that, and he thinks that’s what this is, but it’s not. I promise.”
“Are you capable of love?”
“I am.” I turn her hand over, pressing a kiss to her palm. “I just never found the right person before. Someone worth changing for, worth building a life with.”
“And now?”
“Now I have.” I look into her eyes, willing her to see the truth there. “I'm ready to commit, Harper. To you. To us.”
She's about to respond when a thought hits me like a freight train. “Wait. How did Brett find out?” Cold dread settles in my stomach. This might be worse than we think. I stand up abruptly, ignoring the throbbing in my head. “I need to check my phone.”
“What's wrong?”
“Last night at the auction.” I stride toward my bedroom, Harper close behind.
I hope to God my suspicions are wrong. I grab my phone from the nightstand and power it on. Immediately, it starts buzzing with notifications. Missed calls, text messages, social media alerts.
I open a web browser and type my name. The first thing I see makes my blood run cold.
A photo of Harper and me emerging from the alcove, my hand clearly on her hip, our faces close together. The intimacy of the moment is clear in the way we're looking at each other, leaving no doubt about our relationship.
“Damn photographer,” I mutter, remembering the man who seemed to be focused on the floral arrangements.
“What is it?” Harper asks, coming to stand beside me.
I show her the screen, watching as all the color drains from her face.
“Oh God,” she whispers.
“It's going to be fine,” I say quickly, pulling her against my side. “We'll figure this out.”
She resists my hug and takes the phone from me. She reads the article, her face growing whiter by the second. “Oh God, management. They’re going to see this. Isn't there a rule against fraternizing between employees and players?”
“You're not directly employed by the Renegades. You're an independent contractor. That doesn't apply to you,” I point out firmly, then take my phone from her.
There are a ton of messages from my teammates, reporters, and random people. Most of it is noise, but one message from Nova catches my eye. I knew you were banging her. I would too. She's gorgeous.
I delete it immediately, not wanting Harper to see it.
“This is exactly what I was afraid of,” Harper says, sinking onto the edge of my bed. “Now everyone is going to think I slept with you to get this job.”
“No, they won't. And even if they do, who cares? We know the truth.”
But she's spiraling, and I know that no amount of reassurance from me is going to fix this. Not right now.
The photo is out there. Brett knows, and so does everyone else.
Our secret is blown, but my worry right now is Harper and whether she’ll weather this storm or she’ll run scared.
And that is frightening as fuck. I can’t lose her. Not when I’ve just found her.