Chapter 159 HARPER

Chapter 159 HARPER
The alarm went off like it had a personal vendetta against me.

I reached over and silenced it, stretching out slowly before rolling over to press a good morning kiss to Tyler's jaw. My lips met cold pillow instead. I opened my eyes, stared at the empty space beside me for a second, and then collapsed back with a sigh. Of course he was already up.

I checked my phone. Five fifty-three in the morning. The sky outside was still the deep grey of early dawn, the kind where the sun hasn't fully committed to rising yet. I lay there for another minute before I dragged myself out of bed and padded out to the balcony in nothing but my nightgown.

Tyler was on the floor doing sit ups.

He looked up when he heard the door and a smile broke across his face immediately. "Morning, baby."

"Morning," I said, crossing my arms against the cool air. "Why are you up?"

"Why are you?" he shot back, continuing his reps without missing a beat.

"I woke up to an empty bed," I told him. "Which answers my question actually. So why are you out here at six in the morning doing sit ups?"

He exhaled through a rep before answering. "Coach texted last night. The venue's been changed. It won't be at Westfield anymore, they're moving it to the state championship rink because of the number of scouts and college recruiters expected to attend." He paused for a breath. "Since it's tomorrow, I figured I'd try and make up for some lost time."

I watched him for a moment. He was keeping his voice casual, almost breezy, but I knew Tyler well enough by now to see past it. His jaw was tight. His eyes hadn't quite met mine since I came out here.

I walked over and crouched down, resting my hands on his knees. As he came up on the next rep he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss to my lips. "I know what you're about to say," he murmured. "And I promise I'm fine."

"I know you are," I said softly. "But we both know this isn't how it works. You can't get back months of training by doing it all in one morning. All you'd end up doing is wearing yourself out before you even get on the ice." I kept my voice gentle but I didn't soften the words. "The doctors cleared you, but they're still watching. My mom is still cautious because she knows how physical hockey is. The rotator cuff can tear again, Tyler. Right now, over-exercising might actually do more harm than good."

I watched his jaw tighten with each word, his gaze dropping to the floor between us. I reached up and cupped his face, tilting it up so he had to look at me.

"I know how much work you've put into this. I know how badly you want it. And I have absolutely no doubt that you're going to prove yourself out there tomorrow." I searched his face. "Westfield getting their spot back isn't a coincidence. That's yours. I just wish you believed in yourself half as much as I believe in you."

He was quiet for a moment. Then he stood up, turning away from me as he braced his hands on the balcony railing.

"It's been months since I played an actual game, Harper. And the last time I tried..." He trailed off, shaking his head. "I can't forget what happened. I'm just not feeling very confident right now."

I stepped up beside him and touched his back, feeling the warmth of exertion through his skin. I let my hand rest there for a moment, tracing the line of his shoulder, and it occurred to me that maybe the sit ups weren't really about fitness at all. Maybe this was just where he put his anxiety when he didn't know what else to do with it.

I turned him around gently and kissed him, long and unhurried, the kind of kiss that said everything I couldn't quite put into words. When I pulled back I kept my hands on his face.

"No matter what happens on that ice tomorrow," I told him, "you are still Tyler Mercer to me. My golden boy. That doesn't change." I paused. "But I think what might actually help right now is being around your team. They're probably just as nervous as you are. Why don't we go shower and head to school? You can use the gym, be around the guys, and I'll give you the space to prepare properly."

Something in his expression loosened. He pressed his forehead against mine and exhaled slowly. "Thank you," he said quietly.


The drive to school was almost entirely silent.

I tried a couple of times to pull him into easy conversation, small things, nothing about hockey or the finals or Peter, just the kind of talking that fills a car ride and makes it feel shorter. He answered. But the replies were distant, half his mind somewhere else entirely, and eventually I stopped pushing and just let him have the quiet.

When we got to the gym Tyler stopped at the door.

I didn't need to ask why. The absence was obvious even from out here. Peter's voice was usually the loudest thing in any room he walked into, the first one cracking a joke, the one who knew exactly how to cut through tension and make everyone breathe again. But after what happened yesterday, the school had suspended him from both school and the team. Without him the gym already felt different.

I reached over and took Tyler's hand. "I can stay if you want."

"No," he said, and then after a beat, softer, "it's fine. I don't want to keep you here all day watching drills. Go home, get some rest. I need you there early tomorrow, okay?"

He turned and kissed me, brief and warm, and then he walked through the door toward the handful of teammates already gathered inside.

I stood there for a second watching him go.

Then I turned and left.

The walk back to the gate felt longer than it should have. I couldn't shake the feeling that had been creeping up on me lately, quiet and persistent, the sense that something between us was slowly shifting without either of us acknowledging it. Everything had been about hockey for weeks now and I understood that, I really did, but he still hadn't said a word about Chicago. Not one.

I didn't even fully register the drive home.

When I pushed open the front door I stopped. The smell of coffee was coming from the kitchen and I could hear two voices, which was strange because my dad was almost never home at this hour on a weekday. I stepped further in and both he and Claire appeared in the kitchen doorway at the same time, like they'd been listening for someone to come in.

"Hi," I said slowly.

"Hey, sweetheart." My dad smiled. "How was school?"

"It's a break day," I reminded him. "Championship game is tomorrow, remember?"

"Right, yeah." He nodded. "That's actually why we're both home."

I looked between the two of them. Claire was practically vibrating in place, her hands clasped together in front of her, clearly struggling to contain a smile. My dad looked the same way, that particular brand of barely contained excitement that adults wear when they're about to announce something they've decided is wonderful.

"Okay," I said. "What's going on? Did someone win a lottery?"

My dad laughed. "You could say that, actually." He glanced at Claire and then back at me. "I proposed last night."

Claire let out a short shriek and thrust her left hand toward me, the ring catching the morning light. "We're getting married!"

"Oh," I said. "Wow. Congratulations." I smiled and I meant it, mostly. "That's really great."

And it was. I could see how happy he was standing there, how happy they both were, and I wasn't going to be the person who made it smaller than it was. But somewhere underneath the congratulations was something quieter, a door closing on something I hadn't even fully admitted I was still hoping for. Whatever small part of me had held onto the idea of my parents finding their way back to each other, it was gone now. Properly gone.

"And," Claire said, pulling me back from my thoughts, "there's more."

I blinked. "More?"

She nodded, practically bouncing.

I looked at my dad, then back at Claire, and then it hit me. "Please," I begged, "please tell me Claire is not pregnant."

Claire burst out laughing. "Oh God, no. We want to actually bond as a family before we even think about expanding it."

I let out a breath. "Okay. Then what is it? Because I don't like being kept in suspense."

My dad straightened slightly, the way he did when he was about to say something he'd been rehearsing. "You're graduating in May," he said. "And after that you'll be thinking about college, career paths, what comes next. I wanted to make that transition easier for you, so we've been making some arrangements." He glanced at Claire again and she gave him an encouraging nod. "We're moving."

My heart did something strange in my chest. For one completely irrational second I thought, Chicago. If he said Chicago right now I would laugh out loud at the absurdity of it, but at least it would make some kind of sense of everything.

"After your graduation," my dad continued, "we're relocating to England. That's where Claire and I are planning to get married, and we'd love for you to come with us and start fresh somewhere new."

The room went very quiet.

England.

Not Chicago. England.

I stood there in the middle of the living room while my dad kept talking, something about the wedding venue and a neighborhood they'd already been looking at, and I heard none of it. My world had just cracked open in a completely different direction than I expected, and I hadn't even seen it coming.