Chapter 149 TYLER

Chapter 149 TYLER
The arena roared like it was alive. It pressed in from every side, loud and endless, the kind of noise that usually lit a fire under my skin. My skates cut across the ice as I pushed forward, breath fogging through my helmet, heart pounding in rhythm with the game. Everything felt bigger tonight. Brighter. The lights overhead burned hotter, the crowd louder, the stakes heavier.

Finals.

I could feel it in my bones.

“Mercer!” Kane shouted from somewhere to my left. “Let’s go!”

I raised my stick slightly in response, rolling my shoulder once like I always did before a play. It didn’t hurt here. Not in this version of things. Not in this world where everything was exactly how it was supposed to be.

We were winning.

No, we were about to win.

I turned just as Harper stepped closer to me near the edge of the rink, somehow right there despite the chaos around us. She didn’t belong on the ice, but that didn’t matter. None of this had to make sense.

She smiled up at me, her eyes soft in a way that made everything else fade.

“You’ve got this,” she said, reaching up to press a quick kiss to my lips. “You’re going to ace this. I know you are.”

Something in my chest lifted at that.

I nodded once, confidence settling into me like armor. “Watch me.”

The whistle blew.

Everything snapped into motion.

The puck dropped, and I moved on instinct, skating forward, stick connecting clean as I took control. The rush hit instantly, adrenaline flooding through me as I maneuvered past one player, then another. The crowd’s energy rose with every second, building, feeding into me.

This was it.

This was where I belonged.

I pushed harder, closing in, my focus locked on the goal ahead.

Then it happened.

A hit came out of nowhere.

It slammed into me from the side, violent enough to knock the breath out of my lungs. Pain exploded through my shoulder, sudden and unbearable, like something had shattered inside me.

I hit the ice hard.

The world tilted.

For a second, I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. The pain didn’t fade. It spread, sinking deeper, turning everything into something distant and wrong.

A shadow fell over me.

I forced my eyes up.

The player standing above me wasn’t someone from the opposing team anymore. It was Sam.

He looked down at me, a slow, mocking smile spreading across his face as he laughed.

The sound echoed.

Not just from him.

From everywhere.

The entire arena was laughing.

I pushed against the ice, trying to get up, but my body felt heavy, unresponsive. The pain in my shoulder burned with every attempt, like it was punishing me for even trying. No one came to help.

No one even looked concerned.

I managed to get to my knees, then my feet, unsteady and disoriented. The game… it wasn’t happening anymore.

The scoreboard changed.

The celebration started.

My team was now gathered at the far end of the rink, cheering, sticks raised, victory clear on their faces.

They’d won.

Without me.

I stood there, frozen, as someone handed Peter the spotlight. He was smiling, laughing, surrounded by cameras. The scouts were there too, shaking his hand, nodding in approval like they’d already made up their minds.

I took a step forward, but Coach Turner’s voice cut through everything.

“Get off the ice, Mercer!”

I turned toward him, confusion crashing into me. “Coach, I—”

“You’re done,” he snapped. “You’re not needed.”

The words hit harder than the fall.

I looked toward the stands, searching for something, anything that made sense.

My parents were there.

They weren’t smiling. They just shook their heads slowly, disappointment written all over their faces like I’d failed something I couldn’t fix.

My chest tightened.

I shifted my attention from them, searching the crowd, looking for her. For Harper.

She was standing there too.

For a second, hope flickered.

Then she looked at me, and whatever I saw in her eyes crushed it completely.

“You’re a loser, Tyler,” she said, her voice cutting through everything else. “I thought you’d be better than this.”

Something inside me broke.

I jerked awake.

My chest rose and fell too fast, air rushing in like I’d been drowning. The room was dark, quiet, nothing like the chaos I’d just been trapped in. It took a second for everything to settle, for reality to come back into focus.

My room.

My bed.

Not the ice.

I dragged a hand over my face, trying to shake off the feeling, but it clung to me anyway, lingering in my chest like something unfinished.

Beside me, Harper shifted slightly.

I turned my head toward her.

She was still asleep, her breathing soft and even, completely unaware of the storm that had just ripped through me. A strand of her hair had fallen across her face, and without thinking, I reached over and brushed it back gently.

She didn’t wake.

For a moment, I just watched her.

She was peaceful. Safe. Here.

That helped more than anything else.

Still, I knew I wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon. Carefully, I slipped out of bed, making sure not to disturb her, and headed downstairs.

The house was quiet, wrapped in that late-night stillness that made everything feel slower. I moved toward the kitchen, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and taking a long drink, hoping it would cool the restless feeling sitting under my skin.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

I glanced up.

Dad stood in the doorway, still in his pajamas, looking more awake than I expected.

“Yeah,” I said, lowering the bottle. “Something like that.”

He stepped further in, already reaching for bread and ingredients like he had a plan. “Didn’t expect to find you here at this hour. Especially with your girlfriend upstairs.”

I let out a small laugh, but it came out uneven. “Yeah. Me neither.”

He paused mid-motion, then glanced at me properly. “You wanna talk about it?”

I hesitated.

Then I sighed and pulled out a stool, sitting down. “How disappointed would you be if I decided to quit hockey?”

That made him stop completely.

He turned toward me, brows pulling together. “Quit?”

I nodded slightly. “Yeah. Would you be…disappointed?”

He studied me for a second. “Do you want to quit?”

I let out a breath. “I think I got my answer.”

“No,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “Don’t mistake my reaction for disappointment, son. It's more like…shock.” He leaned against the counter. “You’ve loved hockey your whole life, Tyler. No one forced you into it. You chose it.”

I looked down at my hands. “I don’t know if I still want it the same way.”

He didn’t interrupt.

“That talk with Coach today…” I continued. “It got in my head. What if he gives me the chance and I mess it up? I haven’t been on the ice in months. The finals are coming up fast. Everyone’s expecting something from me.”

Dad stayed quiet, letting me get it out.

“What if I go out there and just… fail?” I added.

He walked over and took the stool beside me, setting the sandwich aside for now. “Those kinds of thoughts can mess with you if you let them sit too long,” he said.

I swallowed. “But what if hockey is all I have?”

He shook his head immediately. “It’s not. It’s just the thing you’ve spent the most time on.” He nudged my shoulder lightly. “If you walked away from it, you’d be surprised what else you could do.”

“And if there’s nothing else?”

He smiled faintly. “Then you figure it out. You don’t need ten talents to be successful or happy. You just need one direction you’re willing to build on.”

I let that sit.

“And if you decide to quit,” he added, “no one’s going to be disappointed in you. We’ll support you. That’s not changing.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Even if I end up doing nothing?”

He shrugged. “Then you’ll be doing nothing comfortably. I didn’t work this hard for my son to stress about survival.”

That pulled a real smile out of me.

“And your girlfriend upstairs?” he continued. “You think she cares about hockey more than you?”

I shook my head.

“Exactly.”

I leaned back slightly, exhaling. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he said, getting up to grab the sandwich again. “Now let me deliver this before your mom starts wondering where I disappeared to.”

I watched him leave, shaking my head a little in amusement before heading upstairs.

I slowed at my door as I stepped in.

Harper hadn’t moved. She was still curled up in my bed, exactly how I left her, breathing soft, like the world hadn’t touched her at all. Something in my chest loosened just looking at her.

I walked over, quiet without thinking about it, and stopped beside the bed, taking her in.

The room stayed still for a beat, before the quiet was interrupted by my phone buzzing on the nightstand.

I picked it up.

It was an email.

From Coach Turner.

My stomach tightened slightly as I opened it. It didn’t take long to read.

A contract.

Not official yet, but more like a draft, something close enough to feel real.

If I performed well in the finals, the contract stated, I’d have a shot at joining the USHL. Chicago.

A bigger stage.

A real shot at everything I’d worked for.

For a second, excitement hit. But reality followed almost immediately.

Chicago wasn’t close.

Not even a little.

My gaze drifted to Harper again.

She shifted slightly in her sleep, pulling the blanket closer.

I stared at the screen for a few seconds longer. Then I deleted the email.

I couldn’t let her see it. At least not yet. Not when I didn’t even know what any of it meant for us.