Chapter 160 TYLER

Chapter 160 TYLER
I'd never been this anxious in my entire life.

I sat in the guest locker room with my gear on and my hands clasped between my knees, staring at the floor like it owed me something. It was hard to believe this day had actually come. It felt like just yesterday I was dancing with Harper at Mark's mom's Christmas dinner, then New Year, then Valentine's Day, and now here we were, the day everything either came together or fell apart.

I checked my phone again. Twenty eight minutes until game time. Harper should have been here by now. Nobody would have stopped her from coming to the locker room, which meant she just wasn’t here yet, and I couldn’t explain why that bothered me this much.

I told myself it was just traffic. The drive out to the state championship rink took almost two hours. Plenty of things could have delayed her. It had to be that.

"Tyler." Coach Turner's voice pulled me back into the room. He was standing a few feet away, studying me with that particular look he wore when he was choosing his words carefully. "How are you feeling?"

I rolled my shoulder once and lied cleanly. "Great."

He didn't look convinced. "The medical team flagged their concerns again this morning. They don't want you playing full shifts." He glanced around at the rest of the guys. "I'm trying to figure out the rotation. Opening play has a lot of contact and I don't want to risk you going in first, but I also don't know who's best positioned to take that slot." He looked at the other centers. "No offense."

Nobody argued with him. They all knew what he meant.

I knew what he meant too. Peter would have been the answer to that question without anyone needing to say it out loud. Peter, who was suspended and probably somewhere in the building anyway because that was exactly the kind of person he was.

"Peter," I said nevertheless.

Coach gave me a flat look. "He's suspended, Tyler."

"I know what he did," I argued. "And I'm not saying he shouldn't face consequences. But coach, look around this room. You know as well as I do that part of why Peter got to that point was because of how this team has been managed. He wanted one moment to be seen and he made a terrible decision getting there." I looked at him directly. "He turned himself in. He came forward knowing what it would cost him. That means something. We can deal with the punishment after we take the trophy, but right now we need him. I need him."

The room was quiet.

Coach rubbed the back of his neck. "And if he's not even in the building?"

"He's here," I said, standing up. "I'll go find him. Give me ten minutes."

I walked out before he could argue, and honestly I needed the air as much as I needed to find Peter. The locker room was starting to feel like four walls closing in.

When I got to the rink I stopped for a second and scanned the stands. The arena was filling up fast, a wash of blue and white everywhere I looked, Westfield colors packed into almost every row. I looked for Harper first, searching the front section where I knew she'd try to be, but I couldn't find her yet.

Then I spotted Peter.

He was standing off to the side near the concession area, alone, staring at the empty ice with his hands in his pockets. He looked like someone who had already accepted that today wasn't going to be his.

I walked toward him and the moment he noticed me coming his whole body tensed. He opened his mouth before I even reached him.

"I just came to watch," he said quickly. "I'm not trying to cause any problems, I just wanted to see you play and then I'll go, I swear."

"How about you play instead of watch," I said.

Peter stared at me. "What?"

"Coach needs a center who can handle the opening shifts while I manage my rotation. That's you." I looked at him. "I'm still angry at you. I want to be clear about that. What you did cost me most of this season and I don't know how long it's going to take me to fully get past it. But I get it. I get what it's like to want the spotlight and feel like it keeps moving away from you. And right now the team needs you."

Peter was quiet for a second, something moving across his face that he was clearly trying to keep under control. "Coach actually agreed to this?"

"Would I be standing here if he hadn't?"

He let out a breath and then pulled me into a hug. I didn't return it, just stood there and let him have it, and he didn't seem to mind. When he stepped back his eyes were slightly red at the edges.

"I won't let you down," he said.

"You better not."

We were heading back toward the locker room when I heard my name, or more specifically I felt the impact first because Harper came around the corner at speed and slammed straight into me, grabbing the front of my jersey and pulling me down into a kiss before I'd even fully turned around.

When she pulled back she was already talking. "I'm so sorry, traffic was an absolute nightmare and then we couldn't find parking and I ran most of the way from the gate, please tell me I'm not too late."

"You're not too late," I said, and I meant it in more ways than one. Something in me that had been wound tight all morning loosened the moment she was standing in front of me.

She looked past my shoulder and saw Peter. She didn't ask me to explain it. She just looked at him and nodded. "Good luck."

"Thanks, Harper," he said quietly.

I kissed her once more, and then followed Peter back to the locker room feeling like I could actually breathe again.

The opposing team was the Lakewood Eagles, a team with a reputation for aggressive defensive play and a center who'd been drawing attention from scouts all season. The arena was loud from the first drop of the puck.

Peter opened the game the way I knew he would, all energy and sharp instinct, working the ice like he had something to prove, which I supposed he did. He managed to put one past the Eagles' goalie midway through the first period and the Westfield side of the arena went up like a wave. I watched from the bench, tracking the plays, studying the Eagles' patterns, and when my rotation came I went out there and tried not to think about the last time I'd stepped on the ice in a real game.

The shoulder held.

I blocked a shot that would have given the Eagles an early lead, cleared the zone twice and set up a play that almost converted before the period ended. When I came off the bench coach gave me a single nod and said nothing else, which from Turner meant everything was fine.

The Eagles scored in the second period when Peter's line was on the ice, a fast transition that caught Jax slightly out of position. Just like that it was level, and the mood on our bench shifted.

Peter came and sat beside me and we talked through it, drawing plays on the whiteboard coach held out, adjusting the approach. The third line went back and forth, neither side willing to give the other anything, and when the final buzzer sounded it was still tied.

Overtime.

I went out with Mark on right wing, Kane on left, Jax in goal, Billie on left defense and David on the right. The Eagles came out like they'd been waiting for this, pressing hard from the drop, and for the first few minutes it was all we could do to maintain possession.

I caught Harper's voice from the front row at one point, cutting through the noise, and I didn't look over because I knew if I did I'd lose focus, but I heard her and it settled something in me.

Coach called a timeout and switched Kane for Peter. It was the right call. The three of us, me, Mark and Peter, had spent enough time in practice together that we moved differently when we were all on the ice at the same time. There was a shorthand to it that the Eagles hadn't seen yet.

I carried the puck into the offensive zone, drew two defenders toward me while Mark faked a cut inside, just enough to make their line hesitate, and I slipped a pass across to Peter driving toward the net. He received it without breaking stride and put it in the net before their goalie had finished moving.

The arena detonated.

I heard it more than I experienced it because I was already moving, skating off the ice toward the boards, and then Harper was there, vaulting the barrier in a way that probably gave someone a minor heart attack, and I caught her as she launched herself at me.

"I knew it," she said against my shoulder, squeezing me tight. "I knew you could do it."

I held on for a second longer than I needed to before setting her down.

They called me back for the trophy presentation and I went, standing with the team while the noise washed over all of us, and tried to remember every single second of it.

Hargrove, who’d been part of the scouting team under the Chicago USHL team, found me as we were stepping off the ice accompanied by a scout I hadn’t met before.

"Congratulations, son," Hargrove said, extending his hand. "As of today, your spot on the Chicago team is confirmed. We'd love to have you."

I shook his hand. "I appreciate that, sir. Genuinely." I paused. "But I've been thinking about it and I want to commit to the NCAA route first. Minnesota. I want to take more time to recover properly, get my academics in order, and make some memories I'd otherwise miss out on."

Hargrove studied me for a long moment. The scout beside him said nothing.

"This about a girl?" Hargrove asked.

I didn't hesitate. "Among other things. But yes."

He almost smiled. "I hope she's worth it."

"She is," I said.

I excused myself and started making my way back toward the stands. I'd seen Harper's application to University of Minnesota sitting open on her laptop two weeks ago and I hadn't said a word about it to anyone. I'd also never told her about Chicago for the same reason, because the moment I saw that application I'd already made my decision. Wherever she was going, that was where I was going. Minnesota worked just fine.

I was almost at the barrier when my parents got to me first, my mom pulling me into a hug that nearly knocked me sideways, my dad gripping my shoulder, and Jacob latching onto my arm, practically bouncing on his feet as he told me that was the best game he’d ever watched.

Then someone cleared their throat behind them.

My attention shifted. Harper's dad was standing there with Claire beside him, both of them smiling.

"Congratulations, Tyler," Mr. Lane said, shaking my hand firmly. "I mean it. Don't let this kind of success change who you are when you take it further in college." He paused. "And I hope the distance won't make things too difficult. England's not exactly around the corner, but flights exist for a reason."

I went very still. "England?"

Mr. Lane laughed and then caught my expression and stopped. "Harper hasn't told you yet."

It wasn't a question.

"Told me what?” I asked, glancing at my parents in confusion.

"I was going to."

I turned around. Harper was standing just behind me, Megan a few steps back giving the two of us space. Her shoulders were a little drawn in, and her arms hung loosely at her sides before she slowly folded them, like she was trying to make herself smaller without meaning to.

“We're moving to England,” she said. “I only found out yesterday. I didn't know how to bring it up in the middle of everything."

Our parents quietly drifted away.

"You're…” I blinked. “You're moving to England?”

"You got an offer in Chicago," she countered.

I stared at her. "How long have you known about that?”

She didn't flinch. "Since the morning after you hurt your hand. Peter's notification came through on your phone. I read it when I swiped down the notification bar."

I didn't say anything. I just looked at her. The fact that she'd been carrying that around all this time without saying a single word settled somewhere uncomfortable in my chest.

"It's fine," she said, her voice going to that carefully arranged place that I'd learned meant the opposite. "I always knew something would eventually get in the way. Maybe this is just what that looks like. You go to Chicago, I go to London, we both start the next chapter."

"You're already gone," I said quietly. "And you haven't even left yet."

She looked at me but didn't deny it. Then she took a shaky breath.

"Tyler, I think we should break up.”