Chapter 154 HARPER

Chapter 154 HARPER
I didn’t realize how close I was to breaking until I stepped away from him.

One second I was standing there, trying to hold it together while he pushed past me like I was part of the problem, and the next, it felt like everything inside me had cracked open. It wasn’t just what he said. It was the way he said it, like I was something he had to get past instead of someone he could lean on.

I stood there for a few seconds after he drove off, staring at the empty space where his car had been like it might suddenly come back.

It didn’t.

A few students passed by, throwing curious looks my way, but I barely noticed them. My mind was still stuck on his face, the anger in it, the frustration. And underneath all of that, something else I couldn’t quite name but felt worse than the rest.

It hurt.

Not because he snapped. I understood that part. Hockey meant everything to him, and watching his body fail him when he needed it most… I couldn’t even imagine how that felt.

What hurt was that he shut me out.

Like I didn’t get to be there.

Like loving him didn’t count for anything in that moment.

I swallowed and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to push the feeling down before it settled too deep.

Going back to my dad’s place didn’t feel right.

Not like this.

Before I could overthink it, I pulled out my phone and ordered a cab. The decision came quick, like my body already knew where I needed to go.

My mom’s.

The ride felt longer than it should have, even though I wasn’t really paying attention to the road. My thoughts kept looping back to Tyler, replaying everything, everything I should have said, everything I didn’t.

By the time the cab stopped outside the house, my chest felt tight again.

I stared at it for a second before getting out.

This house used to feel full. It used to be the place where I'd spent most of my childhood.

Now it just looked like it had learned how to stay standing without any of it.

I pushed that thought away before it could sit too long and walked up to the door, letting myself in.

“Who’s there?” my mom’s voice called from the kitchen.

“It’s me,” I said.

There was a pause, and then she appeared in the doorway.

For a second, she just stared at me. Before she finally moved.

“Harper,” she breathed, crossing the space between us quickly and pulling me into a tight hug. “I didn’t think I’d see you this soon.”

I stiffened slightly at first, caught off guard, but then I relaxed just enough to return it.

“I needed to talk to you,” I said.

She pulled back, studying my face like she was trying to read everything I wasn’t saying. Whatever she saw there must have been enough, because her expression shifted.

“Come,” she said gently, leading me into the kitchen. “I just finished baking. You can eat while we talk.”

“I’d like that,” I admitted.

She nodded, already reaching for a plate as she cut into the pie on the counter. The smell filled the room, soft and homely in a way that almost made everything else feel distant for a second.

Almost.

I leaned against the counter, watching her move around the kitchen like she always had.

“Tyler practiced today,” I said.

Her hands paused for a fraction of a second before continuing. “On the ice?”

“Yeah,” I said. “His shoulder gave out mid-play. He got really mad.”

She placed the slice of pie in front of me before looking up. “And if you’re here, I’m guessing he’s not fine.”

I shook my head. “Not even close.”

She sighed softly, resting her hands on the counter. “What exactly happened?”

“He was about to take a shot,” I explained. “And then his arm just… stopped working. Like it gave up on him.”

My mom nodded slowly, like that made sense to her.

“Why did that happen?” I asked. “He said he’s been feeling okay most of the time.”

“For a rotator cuff injury, that’s normal,” she said. “It feels manageable until you push it past what it can handle. Then it reminds you very quickly that it’s not healed yet.”

I frowned. “So he made it worse?”

“Not necessarily worse long-term,” she replied. “But he stressed it. And when that happens, the muscle reacts. Pain, weakness, loss of control. It’s the body protecting itself.”

I let that sink in, my grip tightening slightly around the fork in my hand.

“So what can I do?” I asked. “To help him.”

She looked at me for a moment before answering.

“You can’t fix it for him,” she said honestly. “But you can help him manage it.”

“How?”

“Pay attention,” she said. “Watch how he trains. Make sure he’s not pushing beyond what he should be doing. If he starts ignoring pain, you step in.”

I nodded slowly.

“Can he still practice on the ice?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said. “But carefully. No heavy contact. No shoulder hits. And definitely no slapshots for now.”

I let out a small breath. “That’s like half the point of hockey.”

“Exactly,” she said. “Which is why he shouldn’t be pushing to play like he’s fully recovered yet.”

I looked down at the pie, my appetite fading a little.

“But there’s something else you can do,” she added.

I glanced up. “What?”

“Watch his games,” she said. “Really watch them. Learn how he moves, how he positions himself. If you can figure out how he ended up getting hit the way he did, you might be able to help him avoid it next time.”

I blinked. “You mean like… study his gameplay?”

She nodded. “Yes. Especially his role as center. That position puts him in the middle of a lot of contact. If you understand the patterns, you can spot when he’s about to put himself in a risky situation.”

A small flicker of something lit up inside me.

Hope.

“That might actually work,” I said.

“It could,” she replied. “But remember, Harper, he has to want to listen too.”

I nodded. “I know.”

She reached across the counter, placing her hand over mine. “I know he's your friend and you care about him. I can see it all over your face.”

I hesitated for a second before correcting her, “He’s my boyfriend.”

Her brows lifted slightly, and then a smile spread across her face. “I see.”

I huffed a quiet laugh. “Don’t start.”

“I told you you’d thank me one day,” she said lightly.

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t stop the small smile that came with it. “Yeah. Maybe you were right.”

She squeezed my hand gently before letting go and pushing the plate closer to me. “Eat.”

I picked up my fork again, but my attention drifted around the kitchen instead.

It felt… empty.

Too big for just one person.

Mom noticed.

“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “For leaving you here with Sam. I should have been there.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but my phone started ringing.

I picked it up immediately when I saw the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Tyler's voice came through, quieter than usual. “Are you mad at me?”

My chest softened instantly.

“That depends,” I said. “Are you coming to pick me up so I can stay over?”

My mom raised a brow, but I ignored it.

Tyler let out a breath. “Actually… that’s why I’m calling.”

Something in his tone made me straighten.

“What happened?”

“I’m kind of stuck,” he admitted. “Middle of nowhere. My car won’t start.”

My stomach dropped. “What?”

“I may have… broken the window,” he added.

“Tyler—”

“I know,” he cut in. “I just didn’t want to call my parents. Can you maybe ask your dad to—”

“Send me your location,” I said immediately. “I’m coming.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m already on my way,” I said.

I ended the call and looked up at my mom. She was already grabbing her keys.

“Where?” she asked.

I didn’t waste time explaining. “He's sharing his location.”

We followed the GPS for over two hours.

The further we drove, the quieter everything got. Houses disappeared. Roads stretched out longer. My nerves tightened with every passing minute.

When we finally found him, my heart dropped.

He was leaning against his car. And even from a distance, I could tell something was wrong.

I jumped out before the car fully stopped, running toward him.

“Tyler—”

My steps slowed.

He was wearing only a tank top instead of his school uniform shirt, stained with something dark.

My eyes dropped to his hands. One was hidden behind his back, the other hung loosely by his side, stained the same way as his clothes. That was when I realized it was blood.

“Where’s your shirt?” I asked, my voice shaking.

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he brought forward the hand he’d been hiding and showed me the fabric wrapped around it, completely soaked through.

My heart sank.

I reached him, cupping his face, my hands moving quickly over him like I needed to check everything at once. “Are you okay? Tyler, what did you do?”

“I’m fine,” he said, but his voice didn’t match it.

His skin felt too warm. His face was pale beneath the beads of sweat on his forehead.

“You’re not fine,” I said.

“I am—”

His protest broke off as his eyes rolled back.

“Tyler—”

His body went slack, slumping forward.

I caught him before he hit the ground, my arms struggling to hold his weight as panic surged through me.

“Tyler, wake up,” I said quickly, shaking him slightly. “Tyler!”

Nothing.

My heart slammed against my ribs.

“Mom!” I screamed, my voice breaking. “Call an ambulance!”