Chapter 75 First Day
Harper's POV,
My phone started buzzing at 8:15 AM Monday morning while I was between clients.
Maya.
I opened the text: I'm in the building. It's huge. I'm lost. Send help.
I typed back: You'll be fine. Breathe. Find the elevators. Your office is on the third floor.
Found elevators. Everyone looks so professional. I feel like an imposter in business casual. Why didn't you tell me to dress better?
You look fine. Stop overthinking. You're excellent at your job. They're lucky to have you.
You're obligated to say that. You're my best friend.
Doesn't make it less true. Now go. Stop texting me. Be a professional.
Fine. But if I get fired on day one, I'm blaming you.
I smiled and put my phone away. My next client was arriving in five minutes—a runner with plantar fasciitis who'd been referred by Andrea, the IT band runner from week one. Word of mouth was working. The clinic was booked solid Monday through Friday now, with a waitlist forming for the following week.
My phone buzzed again twenty minutes later while I was mid-treatment. I ignored it. Then again. And again.
During my lunch break, I checked the messages.
9:00 AM: Met my boss. Patricia Chen. She seems nice but also terrifying. Very efficient. Gave me like seventeen projects on day one. Is that normal?
9:45 AM: Just sat in on a morning meeting. Everyone's talking in sports marketing acronyms I don't know. CPM? CPA? CTA? Send help.
11:30 AM: Press conference planning meeting. The social media manager has SO MANY IDEAS and nobody's listening to her. I want to say something but I'm too new. This is torture.
12:15 PM: CREW JUST WALKED BY MY OFFICE. Waved at me. Super casual. I work in the same building as your fiancé. This is so weird.
I responded: CPM is cost per thousand. CPA is cost per acquisition. CTA is call to action. You know this. You're just nervous. And yes, Crew works there. You'll get used to it.
How are you so calm about this? I'm having a mild breakdown and you're like 'oh yeah, standard work day.'
Because you're excellent at your job. Once you settle in, you'll be running that department. Now stop texting me and actually work.
Another text came through an hour later: Okay but the social media manager, Simone? She's BRILLIANT. We just had lunch and she told me all her ideas that keep getting shot down and I'm like YES, LET'S DO ALL OF THOSE. We're going to be best friends. Sorry, you're being replaced.
I'll mourn our friendship appropriately. Now go be friends with Simone and stop bothering me. I have clients.
Fine. Love you. Thanks for believing in me even when I'm being dramatic.
Always. Now GO.
I put my phone on silent and focused on work. Three more clients that afternoon. All routine—shoulder mobility, knee strengthening, hip flexibility. The kind of work I could do in my sleep but still found satisfying. Watching bodies heal. Helping people return to activities they loved.
By five PM, I was exhausted. Good exhausted. I locked up the clinic, drove home through Vancouver traffic that was starting to feel familiar instead of foreign.
Crew was already home, sitting on the couch in sweats looking equally tired.
"How was practice?" I asked, dropping my bag by the door.
"Brutal. Coach is pushing hard before regular season starts. My legs are dead." He patted the couch next to him. "How was the clinic?"
"Busy. Good. I'm adding Saturday hours starting next month. The waitlist is getting too long." I collapsed next to him. "Maya texted me approximately every thirty seconds today. I think she's having a crisis."
"She texted me too. During practice. Asked if it's normal to feel like an imposter on day one. I told her yes."
"Was it? For you?"
"Absolutely. My first week with the Canucks I was convinced they'd made a mistake signing me. That they'd realize I was washed up and send me back to Seattle." He pulled me against his chest. "But Maya's going to be fine. She's good at her job. She just needs time to settle in."
My phone rang. Maya, of course.
I answered on speaker. "How was day one?"
"EXHAUSTING. Harper, I met so many people whose names I immediately forgot. I have seventeen projects assigned already. My boss is terrifying but also amazing? And I think I made a friend. Simone. Social media manager. She's brilliant and we're going to revolutionize this department."
"Slow down. Breathe. Tell me about the projects."
"Season opener campaign is mine. Full rollout. Social, traditional media, fan engagement, everything. It's huge. And Patricia just handed it to me like 'figure it out, you start tomorrow.' No training. No guidance. Just 'you're the expert, do your thing.'"
"Because you ARE the expert. You did this in Seattle for three years. You know what you're doing."
"But this is the CANUCKS. This is a bigger market. Higher expectations. What if I screw up?"
"Then you'll fix it. But you're not going to screw up. You're going to be amazing and in three months they're going to wonder how they ever functioned without you."
She was quiet for a moment. "You really believe that?"
"I really believe that. Now tell me about Simone. Your new best friend who's replacing me."
"She's not replacing you. She's just my work best friend. You're still my life best friend." Maya's voice got animated again. "But Harper, she has such good ideas. Like this whole interactive social media campaign where fans submit videos of their favorite Canucks moments and we compile them into this massive season preview. It's brilliant. But apparently the old social media manager was very traditional and shot down all her creative stuff."
"So you're going to let her do the creative stuff."
"We're going to collaborate. She knows social media. I know PR strategy. Together we're going to make this season launch epic."
Crew leaned toward the phone. "Maya, you've been there one day. Maybe don't revolutionize the entire department on day two."
"I'm not revolutionizing. I'm optimizing. There's a difference." She paused. "Also I saw you in the hallway today. You waved. Very casual. Like we're coworkers instead of your fiancée's best friend."
"We are coworkers. We just happen to also be family. I can contain multitudes."
"Well it's weird. But also kind of nice? Like I have an ally in the building. Someone who gets the whole Vancouver transplant thing."
We talked for another twenty minutes. Maya processing her first day, asking questions about office culture and whether she'd made a good impression and if it was normal to feel this overwhelmed.
By the time she hung up, she sounded steadier. Still nervous, but excited instead of panicked.
"She's going to be fine," Crew said after the call ended.
"I know. But first days are hard. Everything's unfamiliar. You're trying to prove yourself while also trying to just survive." I stretched out on the couch. "Remember my first day at the clinic? I was convinced I'd forgotten how to be a physical therapist."
"And now you're booked solid with a waitlist. Funny how that works."
We ordered Indian food because neither of us had energy to cook. Ate it on the couch while half-watching a hockey game Crew had recorded—studying plays, he said, though he kept pausing to explain things to me that went over my head.
Around eight PM, my phone buzzed again. Maya: Okay last text I promise. But I just wanted to say thank you. For dragging me to Vancouver. For not letting me stay comfortable in Seattle. For making me part of your life here. Today was hard but good. I'm glad I'm here.
I typed back: I'm glad you're here too. Now get some sleep. Day two tomorrow.
Night. Love you.
Love you too.
I showed Crew the message. He smiled. "Found family."
"Found family," I agreed.
We stayed up later than we should have, talking about nothing important. Maya's first day. Crew's practice. The wedding in less than three weeks. Small things that felt significant because we were building them together.
Around eleven PM, Crew's phone rang. Unknown number. He ignored it. It rang again immediately.
"Probably spam," he said, but he answered anyway. "Hello?"
His expression changed. Confused. Then concerned. Then something I couldn't read.
"Yeah, she's here. Hold on." He handed me the phone. "It's for you. Someone named Brianna."
My stomach dropped. Brianna. Who I'd talked to two weeks ago. Who'd been moving into her own apartment. Who was six months pregnant now and getting divorced.
I took the phone. "Brianna?"
"Harper. I'm sorry to call so late. And on Crew's phone. I didn't have your number and I remembered he played for the Canucks now so I called the team and they gave me his contact info." She was talking fast, words tumbling over each other. "I need help. I'm at the hospital. The baby—something's wrong. And I'm alone and scared and I didn't know who else to call."
I sat up straight. "What hospital? What's wrong?"
"Vancouver General. I moved here three days ago. I know that sounds crazy but I couldn't stay in Seattle anymore. Too many people, too much judgment. I thought Vancouver would be better. But now I'm here and I'm bleeding and they're talking about early labor and I don't have anyone." She was crying now. "Can you come? Please? I know we're not friends. I know I don't have the right to ask. But you're the only person I know in this city."
I looked at Crew. He was already grabbing his keys.
"We're coming," I said. "Twenty minutes. Don't be alone. Ask a nurse to stay with you until we get there."
"Thank you. God, thank you."
I hung up and stared at the phone.
Brianna was in Vancouver. At the hospital. Six months pregnant with complications. Alone.
"We're really going?" Crew asked.
"We're really going."
"Harper, she's not your responsibility. She hurt you. Her father tried to destroy you. You don't owe her anything."
"I know. But she's scared and alone and six months pregnant. And she called me because she didn't have anyone else." I grabbed my jacket. "We don't have to be friends. But we can be humans who help other humans. Right?"
"Right." He headed for the door. "But if this turns into some weird drama, I reserve the right to say I told you so."
"Fair enough."
We drove to Vancouver General in silence. I texted Maya: Brianna's at the hospital. Pregnancy complications. We're going to check on her. I'll explain later.
She responded immediately: WHAT? Brianna as in JOEL'S EX-WIFE BRIANNA? Why is she in Vancouver? Are you okay? Do you need backup?
I'm fine. I'll call you tomorrow.
Okay but I'm just saying, if this is some kind of trap, I will drive there right now and fight her. Six months pregnant or not.
It's not a trap. She's just scared. Go to sleep. You have work tomorrow.
Fine. But I'm checking in first thing in the morning. If you're murdered, I'm going to be so mad at you.
Noted.
We arrived at the hospital, found labor and delivery, asked for Brianna's room. The nurse directed us to room 412.
Brianna was in bed, hooked up to monitors, looking small and terrified and nothing like the confident influencer I'd met nine months ago.
She saw us and started crying harder. "You came. I didn't think you'd actually come."
"Of course we came." I moved to the bedside. "What's happening? What did the doctors say?"
"Bleeding. Contractions. They're trying to stop early labor. If they can't, they'll have to deliver at twenty-six weeks. The baby's not ready. She's too small. She needs more time." Brianna grabbed my hand desperately. "Harper, I'm so scared. What if I lose her? What if this is my fault for being stressed, for moving cities, for all of it?"
"It's not your fault. Pregnancy complications happen. It's not because of anything you did." I squeezed her hand. "Where's Joel? Does he know?"
"I called him. He's flying in tomorrow morning. But tonight I'm alone. My mom's in Seattle. I don't have friends here yet. I just moved three days ago and I don't know anyone except you." She wiped her eyes. "I know you hate me. I know I don't deserve your help. But thank you for coming anyway."
"I don't hate you," I said, surprising myself by meaning it. "We're not friends. But I don't hate you."
A nurse came in to check vitals. Adjusted monitors. Told Brianna the contractions were slowing but she needed to stay overnight for observation.
"Someone should stay with you," the nurse said. "You shouldn't be alone."
Brianna looked at me hopefully. "Could you—I mean, if you can't, I understand, but—"
I looked at Crew. He nodded slightly. Your choice.
"I'll stay," I said. "Crew, you should go home. You have practice tomorrow morning."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. This is going to be boring hospital hours. No point both of us being exhausted."
He kissed me. "Text if you need anything. I'll bring you coffee in the morning."
After he left, I pulled a chair next to Brianna's bed. She was calmer now, monitors beeping steadily, contractions stopped.
"Why did you move to Vancouver?" I asked.
"Because Seattle felt like a cage. Everyone knows me there. Everyone has opinions about my divorce, my pregnancy, my father's trial. I couldn't breathe." She adjusted the hospital blanket. "Vancouver seemed far enough to be anonymous but close enough that Joel could still visit the baby. Fresh start, you know?"
"I know." I smiled slightly. "That's why we moved here too. Fresh start."
"How's that working out?"
"Better than expected. The clinic's thriving. Crew's playing clean. We're getting married in two weeks." I paused. "And apparently I'm spending Monday night in a hospital with my ex-boyfriend's ex-wife. Life is weird."
Brianna laughed weakly. "Life is extremely weird."
We sat in comfortable silence. The monitors beeped. Nurses came and went. Outside the window, Vancouver glowed in the darkness.
"Thank you," Brianna said eventually. "For not leaving me alone. I know we're not friends. But thank you for being here anyway."
"You're welcome. Now try to sleep. You and the baby need rest."
She closed her eyes. Within minutes, she was asleep.
I settled into the uncomfortable hospital chair and texted Maya: Everything's fine. Baby's okay. Brianna's resting. I'm staying overnight. Crew went home. Will explain everything tomorrow.
Maya: You're a better person than me. I would have left her there. But I'm glad the baby's okay. Get some sleep. Text me when you're home.
I put my phone on silent and closed my eyes.
Tomorrow, I'd go back to the clinic. Back to my regular life.
But tonight, I was sitting in a hospital room with someone who'd hurt me, choosing compassion over resentment.
And somehow, that felt like growth.
Like becoming the person I'd always wanted to be.
The kind who helped. Even when it was complicated.
Even when it was hard.