Chapter 25 Just When I Taught It Was Over
Harper's Pov,
"You're coming home with us."
My mother said it like it was already decided… like I didn’t get a vote in my own life.
She sat down on Maya’s armchair, arms spread and butt sinking in like she owned the place, her purse perfectly positioned on her lap. The same expression she’d worn when she told me I wasn’t smart enough for medical school.
I stayed standing in the hallway because sitting felt like surrendering territory.
"You look terrible," my mother said, as if this was helpful feedback. "When's the last time you slept properly? Ate a real meal? You've lost a lot of weight."
"I've been a little busy being sued and unemployed."
"Yes, I saw that. The whole country saw that." She crossed her legs, settling in for what I knew was going to be a long lecture. "Harper, what were you thinking? Getting into a physical altercation with a pregnant woman?"
"She slapped me first."
"And you responded by fighting back? Do you have any idea how that looks?"
"I defended myself. There's a difference."
"Not to the media there isn't. Not to potential employers. Not to anyone watching that video." My mother leaned forward. "You've made yourself unemployable, Harper. You've destroyed your reputation over what? A man? The same pattern you've been following your entire adult life?"
"That's not fair—"
"Isn't it? You followed Joel Hartley to four different cities, putting your own career on hold each time. And now you're doing the same thing with this Crew person. Another hockey player. Another man who's going to derail your entire future."
"Crew isn't derailing anything."
"He's a drug addict, Harper." My mother said it flat, like she was stating a fact. "I read the articles. He overdosed at a public event. He's in rehab. And you're standing by him despite the fact that your association with him is destroying what's left of your career."
"He's getting help mom. He's trying to get better."
"And that's admirable. But it's not your responsibility." My mother's voice softened just slightly, which somehow made it worse.
"Harper, I know you think you love him. But you have a pattern of trying to save men who don't want to be saved. Joel didn't want you. This Crew person clearly doesn't want you either, or he wouldn't have put himself in a situation where you had to watch him nearly die."
"That's not how addiction works—"
"I don't care how addiction works. I care about my daughter, who's thrown away every opportunity I gave her to chase after men who will never appreciate what she's sacrificing." My mother stood up. "That's why your father and I are here. To take you home."
The room went very quiet.
"Excuse me?" I said.
"You're coming back to Colorado with us. Today." My mother pulled out her phone like this was already decided.
"I've contacted Dr. Morrison… you remember him, he runs that sports medicine practice in Boulder, and he's willing to interview you next week. It's a good position, stable income, away from all this mess you've created in Seattle."
"I'm not going to Colorado."
"Harper, be reasonable for once."
"I said I'm not going." My voice came out harder than I intended. "I have a life here. I have friends, I have—"
"You have nothing," my mother cut me off. "No job. No apartment. No future. You're living in someone else's guest room because you made such catastrophically poor decisions that your landlord evicted you."
"He didn't evict me, he just didn't renew my lease."
"Semantics. The point is, you have nowhere to go and no way to support yourself." My mother's expression was sharp.
"So yes, you're coming home with us. We'll get you settled in Colorado, away from the media, away from this toxic relationship, and we'll start rebuilding your life properly. The way you should have done five years ago."
"No." The word came out quiet but firm.
"Harper—"
"I said no." I straightened my shoulders. "I appreciate that you're concerned, but I'm not leaving Seattle. I'm not running away from this. And I'm definitely not letting you dictate my life again."
"Again?" My mother's voice went cold. "I have NEVER dictated your life.”
Those words stung more than I wanted to admit.
“I've always tried to guide you, tried to keep you from making mistakes, and you've fought me every step of the way."
"Because your version of guidance is control!"
The words burst out before I could stop them.
"You wanted me to go to medical school even though I told you I wanted to be a physical therapist. You wanted me to date Andrew from church even though I had zero interest in him. You wanted me to stay in Colorado and work for your friend's practice and live in your guest house and be the perfect daughter who made all the perfect choices you'd planned out for her."
"I wanted you to have stability."
"No, you wanted me to have YOUR life!" I was shaking now, five years of silence breaking open.
"You wanted me to be you. Conservative and controlled and safe and most of all… boring. But I'm not you, Mom. I never was. And moving to Seattle with Joel was the first choice I made for myself in my entire life."
"And look how that turned out."
"Yeah, it turned out badly! Joel was a mistake! I wasted ten years on someone who didn't deserve me!" I was yelling now and I didn't care.
"But at least I made that mistake myself. At least I got to live my own life for once instead of the one you'd scripted for me."
"Harper, that's enough." My father's voice, quiet but firm. The first time he'd spoken since they arrived.
"No, Dad, it's not enough." I turned to him.
"You stood there and said nothing five years ago when Mom told me I was making a mistake. You said nothing when she told me not to come crying to her when it all fell apart. You just stood there and let her bully me into almost staying."
"I was trying to protect you—" my mother started.
"You were trying to control me!" I cut her off. "And I'm done being controlled. By you, by Joel, by anyone. I'm staying in Seattle. I'm staying with Maya. I'm fighting this lawsuit. And I'm staying with Crew because I love him and he loves me and for the first time in my life, someone actually sees me as an equal instead of a project to fix."
"That's the addiction talking…"
"You're wrong. That's ME talking!" My voice cracked.
"This is me, Mom. This messy, unemployed, lawsuit-facing, hockey-player-dating disaster is who I actually am when I'm not trying to be who YOU want me to be. And if you can't accept that, then you should leave."
For a moment, my mom just stood there staring at me like I'd slapped her.
The silence stretched out, painful and heavy.
Finally, she picked up her purse. "You're making a mistake. A big one"
"Then it's MY mistake to make."
"When this all falls apart—and it will fall apart—don't expect me to pick up the pieces." Her voice was cold as ice.
"I won't watch you destroy yourself over another man."
"I'm not asking you to."
She walked to the door, and my father followed like he always did. But at the threshold, he turned back.
"Harp," he said quietly, using the nickname he hadn't used in years. "Call us if you need anything. Please."
Then they were gone.
The door clicked shut and suddenly Maya's apartment felt like a graveyard.
I stood there in her bathrobe, dripping on her floor, my entire body shaking.
"Holy shit," Maya said from the couch. "That was…"
"I need to sit down." My legs were giving out. "I need to—"
Maya caught me before I hit the floor, guiding me to the couch. "Breathe. Just breathe."
"Did I just completely blow up my relationship with my parents?"
"I think your relationship with your parents was already pretty blown up." Maya grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around me. "You just finally said what you should've said five years ago."
"She's going to tell everyone back home that I'm a disaster. That I'm throwing my life away. That—"
"Harper." Maya grabbed my shoulders.
"Who cares what she tells people in Colorado? You're here. You're fighting for your life. You're choosing yourself for once. That's not a disaster. That's growth."
"Doesn't feel like growth. Feels like I just burned down the last bridge I had left."
"Then we'll build new bridges." Maya squeezed my hands. "Better ones. Ones that don't require you to be someone you're not."
I was about to respond when Maya's phone buzzed on the coffee table. She glanced at it, then suddenly, her face went pale.
"What?" I asked. "What is it?"
She turned the screen toward me.
It was an email from someone named Monica Chen.
Subject line:
URGENT - Brianna Cross Legal Update
Maya opened it and we both read:
____
Ms. Park,
I'm reaching out as I understand you're close with Harper Sinclair. I'm a defense attorney who's been following her case, and I need to speak with her immediately.
The District Attorney's office just filed a motion to escalate Ms. Cross's civil suit to include criminal charges - assault and battery with intent to cause fetal harm. If convicted, Harper is looking at 2-5 years in prison.
She has 60 days to mount a defense or accept a plea deal that includes guilt admission, probation, and a permanent criminal record.
Court date is set for January 12th. I can help, but we need to move fast.
Call me.
\- Monica Chen, Criminal Defense Attorney
___
The room tilted sideways.
PRISON?
Richard's trying to send me to prison?