Chapter 52 The 2 AM Visitor
Harper's POV,
The apartment hunting started at nine AM the next morning with a perky realtor named Amanda who had too much energy for someone operating on West Coast time.
"So we have six properties lined up today," she said, navigating Vancouver traffic with the confidence of someone who'd done this route a thousand times. "Mix of condos and townhouses, all within your budget, all in neighborhoods with good access to the arena and potential clinic locations."
Crew was in the passenger seat looking at listings on his phone. I was in the back, trying not to think about the fact that we were actually doing this, picking a place to live together in a city where neither of us had ever spent more than three days.
The first place was downtown, all glass and chrome and minimalist furniture that looked like it would break if you sat on it wrong. Beautiful views. Zero personality.
"It's very modern," Amanda said hopefully.
"It's very soulless," I replied.
The second place was in Yaletown, bigger but somehow even more sterile. The third was in Kitsilano, closer to the water but with neighbors so close I could hear them arguing through the walls during our viewing.
By noon we were all getting cranky. Amanda suggested lunch before continuing, probably sensing that if we looked at one more beige condo with "open concept living," someone was going to snap.
We ended up at a small Italian place near Granville Island. Crew ordered enough food for four people—apparently anxiety made him hungry—and I picked at a Caesar salad while scrolling through additional listings Amanda had sent.
"What about this one?" I showed Crew my phone. "It's in Fairview. Two bedrooms, den that could be a home office, balcony with mountain views. And look... there's a commercial space for rent two blocks away that would be perfect for a clinic."
Crew studied the photos. "It looks... lived in."
"That's because it has furniture that isn't made of glass and sharp edges."
"I like it," he decided. "Can we see it today?"
Amanda made some calls. The owners were flexible, we could view it at four PM.
The other two properties we saw that afternoon were fine. Nice even. But when we walked into the Fairview condo, something shifted.
It wasn't perfect. The kitchen was smaller than I would have liked, and one bedroom had weird slanted ceilings from being under the roofline. But it felt like a home instead of a showroom. The balcony faced northwest, giving views of the mountains and English Bay. The den had built-in bookshelves and enough space for a desk and treatment table if I wanted to do home consultations before the clinic opened.
And the light, god, the light was beautiful. Golden afternoon sun streaming through windows, making everything warm.
Crew found me standing on the balcony, watching sailboats drift across the water.
"You love it," he said. It wasn't a question.
"I love it," I admitted. "Is that stupid? We've been here less than twenty-four hours and I'm already picking out curtains in my head."
"Not stupid. I love it too." He wrapped his arms around me from behind. "Should we make an offer?"
"It's above our budget."
"We have budget flexibility. Settlement money, signing bonus, the fact that I've been saving money because I had nothing to spend it on except pills and self-destruction." He kissed my neck. "Let me do this, Harper. Let me buy us a home."
"Buy US a home. Not buy ME a home."
"Semantics. Do you want it or not?"
I turned to face him. "I want it. But Crew, if we do this—if we sign a lease or buy this place or whatever—then we're really doing this. Moving here. Starting over. Leaving Seattle completely."
"I know."
"And you're okay with that? Even though you've only been to one meeting here and you don't know anyone and—"
He kissed me to shut me up. "I'm okay with it. Actually, I'm more than okay with it. I'm excited. Terrified, but excited."
Amanda appeared in the doorway, trying not to look too eager. "So? What do we think?"
"We'll take it," Crew said.
"Excellent! I'll draw up the–"
"Wait." I grabbed Crew's arm. "We should think about it. Sleep on it. Not make impulsive decisions just because the light is pretty."
"The light IS pretty. And so are you. And I'm tired of overthinking everything." He looked at Amanda. "Is it a rental or purchase?"
"The owners are flexible. They'd prefer to sell but they're open to a year lease with option to buy."
"We'll buy it," Crew decided. "Make an offer. Whatever asking price is, we'll match it."
"Crew!" I hissed. "You're supposed to negotiate!"
"Why? We can afford it. They want to sell. Everyone wins." He grinned at my expression. "Harper, I've spent the last three years making terrible decisions. Let me make one good one."
Amanda practically sprinted out of the room to start paperwork, probably afraid we'd change our minds.
I looked around the empty living room, trying to imagine our furniture here. Crew's ugly recliner that he refused to get rid of. My bookshelves full of medical texts and romance novels. Pictures on the walls. A life built together instead of separately.
"This is really happening," I said quietly.
"Yeah." Crew pulled me close. "We're buying a home in Vancouver. You're going to open your clinic. I'm going to play hockey clean. And we're going to figure out how to be actual adults who own property and pay mortgages and remember to water plants."
"We're going to kill so many plants."
"Probably. But we'll figure it out."
.......
We flew back to Seattle the next morning with a pending offer on the condo and approximately forty-seven things to handle before the move. Pack the apartment. Sell Crew's house. Transfer utilities. Update addresses. Ship belongings. The logistics were overwhelming enough that I'd started a second notebook just for moving tasks.
Maya picked us up from the airport looking exhausted.
"Rough couple days?" I asked as we loaded bags into her trunk.
"Morrison called me six times trying to get me to convince Crew to reconsider leaving the Titans. I finally told him if he called again, I'd file a harassment complaint." She glanced at Crew in the rearview mirror. "He's really not taking this well."
"Not my problem anymore," Crew said, but I could hear the tension in his voice.
We got back to Maya's apartment around three PM. I was planning to nap for approximately twelve hours when my phone started ringing.
Unknown number. Seattle area code.
I almost didn't answer. But something made me pick up.
"Harper?" The voice was slurred, thick with alcohol or exhaustion or both. "It's Joel."
I hung up immediately.
The phone rang again. Same number. I declined the call.
A text came through: Please. I just need to talk to you. Five minutes. I'm outside Maya's building.
"You have got to be fucking kidding me," I muttered.
Crew looked up from where he was unpacking. "What's wrong?"
"Joel's outside. He wants to talk."
"Then we'll call the cops and have him removed for trespassing."
"Or I could just talk to him for five minutes and end this." I stood up. "He's clearly spiraling. Maybe if I give him closure, he'll finally leave us alone."
"Harper—"
"Five minutes. I'll be fine. He's not dangerous, just pathetic." I grabbed my jacket. "Stay here. If I'm not back in ten minutes, you can come rescue me."
Maya and Crew both protested but I was already out the door, taking the elevator down to the lobby.
Joel was sitting on the front steps of the building, head in his hands. He looked terrible—unshaven, hair uncombed, wearing sweatpants and a Seahawks hoodie that had seen better days. When he saw me, he stood up so fast he swayed.
"Harper. Thank you. God, thank you for coming down."
"You have five minutes. Then I'm calling the police." I crossed my arms, staying several feet away. "What do you want, Joel?"
"I made a mistake. The biggest mistake of my life." His words were running together. "I shouldn't have left you. I shouldn't have proposed to Brianna. I should have fought for us instead of listening to Richard and my agent and everyone else who said I needed to be single to build my brand."
"You've said all this before."
"But you didn't hear me. You were too busy with your revenge plot and Crew and—" He stepped closer. I stepped back. "Harper, I still love you. I never stopped loving you. And I know I fucked up, I know I destroyed everything, but people make mistakes. People deserve second chances."
"Some people do," I said evenly. "You don't."
"That's not fair—"
"Fair?" I laughed, sharp and cold. "You want to talk about fair? You dumped me after ten years because your agent thought being single would be better for your career. You proposed to your mistress after she got pregnant. You let her father try to send me to prison. And now you're drunk on my friend's doorstep at three in the afternoon begging for another chance. Where exactly is the part where you deserve fairness?"
Joel's face crumpled. "I was scared. I panicked. I made terrible choices because I was weak and stupid and—"
"And I don't care anymore." The words came out calm, final. "Joel, I spent ten years making myself smaller so you could be bigger. I moved cities, postponed my dreams, became invisible so you could shine. And you threw that away. Not for Brianna, for your ego. Because you were too much of a coward to face consequences."
"Harper, please—"
"No." I took a breath. "I'm moving to Vancouver in two weeks. I'm opening my clinic. I'm building a life with someone who actually values me. And you're going to stay here and figure out how to be a decent father to your daughter. But we're done, Joel. Not angry-done or maybe-someday-done. Actually done."
"I'll change. I'll go to therapy. I'll do whatever you want—"
"I don't want anything from you. That's what you don't understand. I don't want you to change or apologize or grovel. I just want you to leave me alone." I pulled out my phone. "This is your last chance. Walk away now, or I'm getting a restraining order."
Joel stared at me like I was speaking a language he didn't understand. Like he genuinely couldn't process that I meant it.
"You're really choosing him over me," he said finally.
"I'm choosing myself. Crew's just the bonus." I turned toward the building. "Goodbye, Joel."
"I'm going to win you back!" he called after me. "I don't care how long it takes—"
I spun around. "Joel, listen to me very carefully. If you show up here again, if you call me, if you text me, if you send flowers or letters or skywriting messages, I will file for a restraining order. I will tell every media outlet about your affair and the pregnancy timeline and how you dumped me to cover up your mistakes. I will make your life hell. Do you understand?"
His face went pale. "You wouldn't."
"Try me." I held his gaze until he looked away first. "Now go home. Sober up. Be a father. And leave me the fuck alone."
I walked back into the building without looking back.
My hands didn't start shaking until I was in the elevator.
By the time I reached Maya's floor, I was full-on trembling. Crew opened the door before I could even knock, he'd clearly been watching through the peephole, and pulled me inside.
"What happened? Are you okay? Did he touch you?"
"I'm fine." I let him wrap me in his arms. "I told him it's over. Actually over. And I threatened him with media exposure if he contacts me again."
"That's my girl," Maya said from the couch. "Scorched earth policy. I'm proud."
Crew held me tighter. "He's really going to leave you alone now?"
"He better. Because I meant every word." I pulled back to look at him. "I'm done with Joel. Completely. No more closure conversations, no more chances, no more anything. When we go to that wedding in two weeks, it's just to close the chapter. After that, he's dead to me."
"Good," Crew said fiercely. "Because you deserve so much better than spending even one more second thinking about him."
We stood there in Maya's entryway, holding each other while she pretended to be very interested in her phone, and I felt something settle in my chest.
Joel was my past. Crew was my present. Vancouver was my future.
And in two weeks, I was going to walk into that wedding and prove to everyone... especially myself... that I'd won.
Not because I'd destroyed Joel's life.
But because I'd built my own.