Chapter 45 Vancouver, Here I Come!
Harper Pov,
Maya turned the screen toward us.
A sports reporter had tweeted:
BREAKING: Sources confirm David Morrison met with Crew Lawson today to discuss contract terms. Meeting ended poorly. Lawson now exploring options with other teams. Titans may have fumbled their franchise player.
Below it, another reporter: Hearing Vancouver is the front-runner for Lawson. GM personally reached out. Could be announced as early as this week.
And another: If Titans lose Crew Lawson over his relationship with Harper Sinclair, that's organizational malpractice. Let the man live his life.
"It's everywhere," Maya said, scrolling through more tweets. "Sports media is having a field day with this."
Crew's phone rang again. This time it was a number he recognized.
"It's Ryan," he said. "My teammate. I should probably answer this."
He picked up. "Hey."
I couldn't hear what Ryan was saying but I watched Crew's expression shift from confused to surprised to something that looked like gratitude.
"Seriously? All of them?" Pause. "Yeah, I appreciate that. Thanks for calling." Another pause. "I don't know yet. I'm talking to Vancouver tomorrow. We'll see what happens."
He hung up and just stared at his phone.
"What did Ryan say?" I asked.
"He said the team had a players-only meeting tonight after the Morrison story leaked. Apparently 20 guys showed up and they took a vote." Crew looked at me.
"They're publicly supporting me. Tomorrow they're releasing a statement saying the players want me back and that the organization shouldn't be interfering in personal relationships."
"Your teammates are going to bat for you," Maya said.
"Yeah. Ryan said they're tired of Morrison treating players like assets instead of people. And they figured if they don't stand up for me now, who's next?" Crew's voice got thick. "I didn't think anyone would care enough to do something like that."
"You're their teammate. Of course they care." I squeezed his hand. "Crew, you're not alone in this. You have people supporting you."
"I'm starting to realize that." He pulled me close. "For three years I thought I had to handle everything by myself. That asking for help made me weak. But the past month has taught me that's bullshit. People want to help. I just have to let them."
His phone buzzed with a text. He looked at it and his jaw tightened.
"Morrison," he said. "He wants to meet again tomorrow morning. Says he has a revised offer."
"Are you going to meet with him?" Maya asked.
"I don't know. Part of me wants to tell him to fuck off just on principle. But the other part thinks I should at least hear what he's offering before I make any decisions."
"What does your gut say?" I asked.
Crew was quiet for a long moment.
"My gut says Morrison doesn't actually care about me. He cares about not looking bad for losing me. And any offer he makes tomorrow is going to be about damage control, not about actually valuing me as a player."
"Then don't meet with him," I said. "Talk to Vancouver. See what they're really offering. Make your decision based on who actually wants you, not who's scrambling to keep you because they're embarrassed."
"You think I should go to Vancouver."
"I think you should go wherever you're valued. If that's Vancouver, great. If it's somewhere else, also great. But the Titans just spent three weeks treating you like a problem to be managed. Why would you want to stay there?"
Crew kissed me. "How'd you get so smart?"
"Well, you know… 32 days of fighting my own battles while you were in rehab. Teaches you a lot about who actually matters and who's just noise."
He pulled out his phone and typed a response to Morrison: I'm talking to other teams first. If you want to make a real offer, it'll need to be better than what they're proposing.
He hit send and set his phone down.
"There. Done. Now Morrison knows he's competing instead of assuming I'll just take whatever he offers."
Maya raised her pizza slice. "To Crew Lawson, who finally learned how to negotiate."
"To Crew Lawson," I echoed, raising my own slice.
"To not letting people treat me like shit anymore," Crew added, tapping his pizza against ours like we were making a toast.
We stayed up talking until midnight, running through scenarios and possibilities and what-ifs until my brain was too tired to process anymore.
Finally Maya went to bed and Crew and I were alone in the living room.
"You should sleep," I said. "You have the Vancouver call in the morning."
"I know. But I'm too wired to sleep." He pulled me against his chest. "Harper, are you scared?"
"Of what?"
"Of everything. Of me moving to Vancouver. Of you maybe moving with me. Of starting over in a new city where we don't know anyone."
"Terrified," I admitted. "But also excited? Like maybe getting out of Seattle would be good for both of us. Fresh start, new city, place where our past doesn't follow us everywhere."
"You'd really move to Vancouver with me?"
"If that's where you end up, yeah. I don't have anything keeping me in Seattle except Maya, and she just said she'd come with us." I looked up at him.
"Besides, Vancouver probably needs physical therapists. I could find work up there."
"You could open your clinic. Like you always wanted."
"With what money? I'm broke, remember?"
"I'm not. And if Vancouver's offering $7.5 million, I can afford to help you start your business." He kissed the top of my head.
"Harper, you spent three months fighting for me while I was in rehab. Let me do something for you now. Let me help you build what you've always wanted."
"Crew—"
"I'm not taking no for an answer. If we're doing this together, we're actually doing it together. That means your dreams matter as much as mine."
I didn't know what to say to that. So I just held him and tried not to cry because somehow in the middle of all this chaos, I'd found someone who actually saw me as an equal instead of someone who needed saving or someone to save.
"I love you," I said.
"I love you more, babe."
We sat there on Maya's couch holding each other while the city lights glowed through the windows and somewhere across town, David Morrison was probably panicking about losing his franchise player.
And somewhere in Vancouver, a GM was preparing an offer that might change everything.
But right now, in this moment, none of that mattered.
All that mattered was that we were together.
And we were choosing each other.
Even if it meant gambling everything on a future we couldn't predict.
…..
The next morning, Crew's phone rang at 9 AM sharp.
Marcus's name flashing on the screen...
"It's time," Crew said, looking at me. "Vancouver's GM is on the line. This is it."
I grabbed his hand. "Whatever they offer, we'll figure it out."
He answered and put it on speaker.
"Crew, I've got James Chen, Vancouver's GM, on the line. James, say hello to Crew Lawson and his girlfriend Harper Sinclair."
"Crew, Harper, pleasure to meet you both." James's voice was warm and professional.
"Crew, I'm going to cut right to the chase. We want you in Vancouver. We think you're exactly the kind of player we need, and more importantly, we think you deserve to play for an organization that values you as a person, not just as an asset."
"I appreciate that," Crew said carefully.
"Marcus sent me the details of the Titans' offer. $3.2 million, one year, with restrictions on your personal life. That's insulting, frankly. Here's what we're offering: $7.5 million per year, 3-year guaranteed contract. Full medical support including specialists in addiction recovery and pain management. No morality clauses related to your personal relationships. And we'll cover relocation costs for both you and Harper if she chooses to move with you."
I looked at Crew. His hand was shaking in mine.
"That's a generous offer," Crew said.
"It's a fair offer for a talented player. But Crew, I want to be clear about something. We're not just buying your skills on the ice. We're investing in you as a person. We believe in second chances. We believe in supporting our players through recovery. And we don't believe your personal life is any of our business as long as you show up, play clean, and give us your best effort."
"What about the media attention? Harper and I have been all over the news—"
"And we don't care. Honestly, Crew, half our roster has complicated personal lives. That's what happens when you're human beings instead of hockey robots. As long as you're following your treatment plan and staying clean, we're not interested in policing who you love."
Crew looked at me and I could see tears in his eyes.
"Can I have 24 hours to think about it?" he asked.
"Of course. Take your time. But Crew? I hope you choose us. I really do. I think Vancouver could be a great home for you both."
The call ended.
Crew set his phone down and just stared at it.
"That's the best offer you're going to get," I said quietly.
"I know."
"So what are you going to do?"
He turned to me. "I'm going to call Morrison one more time. Give him a chance to match it. And if he doesn't..." Crew took a breath. "Then I guess we're moving to Vancouver."
Before he could dial, his phone rang.
Morrison.
Crew answered. "David."
"Crew, I heard about Vancouver's offer. We need to talk."
"I'm listening."
"The Titans are prepared to match their salary. $7.5 million, 3 years. Same medical support. But Crew, you need to understand something. We can't just ignore the media situation with Ms. Sinclair. The organization has standards—"
Crew hung up.
Just hung up mid-sentence.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"Making my decision." He pulled up Marcus's number. "Marcus, call Vancouver back. Tell them I'm in."
"Crew, wait—" I started.