Chapter 102 HARPER
I thought I would spend the entire morning wanting to crawl under a blanket and never come out. Instead, I found myself smiling quietly.
Tyler didn’t look at me like I had done something shameful. He didn’t treat me like I had crossed a line that couldn’t be uncrossed. He didn’t even tiptoe around it. He had said what he meant in his room, softly and certain, and then he’d let it rest there. No pressure. No loaded glances. No awkward tension stretching every second thin.
I was still embarrassed. Every time I remembered how close I had come to throwing everything into chaos in the front seat of that truck, heat crept up my neck. But somehow, because he refused to make it into a scandal, it started to feel smaller. Manageable. Like something that had happened instead of something that defined me.
By the time we were sitting at the kitchen table with mugs of hot cocoa and plates of eggs Mrs. Rose insisted we finish, I almost felt normal.
Almost.
Mrs. Rose moved around the kitchen with the kind of quiet efficiency that came from years of caring too much. She kept glancing at Tyler’s shoulder when she thought he wouldn’t notice. He noticed anyway. He just pretended he didn’t.
I pushed a piece of toast around my plate, not because I wasn’t hungry, but because my stomach was tangled with nerves about going back home.
Home.
The word didn’t feel safe anymore.
Tyler caught my eye from across the table. He lifted his brows slightly in question, nodding toward my plate. ‘Are you done?’
I swallowed and gave him a small nod.
He turned in his chair just enough for his voice to carry toward his mom. “We’re gonna head to Harper’s house after this. Just to check if Sam’s gone.”
Mrs. Rose stopped wiping the counter and looked at him properly. “You’re going alone?”
“We’ll call if anything’s wrong,” Tyler said easily. “After the warning I gave him, he probably won’t be there.”
Probably.
Mrs. Rose didn’t look convinced. Her gaze shifted to me, softening. “I don’t like the idea of you two going by yourselves.”
“We’ll be fine,” Tyler said again, gentler this time. “We’re not going to start anything.”
Her eyes dropped to his shoulder. “Put your sling back on at least.”
He sighed quietly. “Mom.”
“Tyler.”
He held her stare for a second before relenting. “Okay.”
“You know you’ll forget it’s healing if something happens,” she continued. “And if Sam is gone, you lock that house properly. Then you bring Harper back here. It’s not safe for her to stay alone until she talks to her parents and someone can stay with her.”
I looked down at my hands so they wouldn’t see the way my chest tightened.
She didn’t argue with me. She didn’t accuse me of exaggerating. She didn’t make it sound like I was a burden. She just… decided I deserved to be safe.
I wished my mom sounded like that.
Tyler reached for his sling from the back of a chair, adjusting it with one hand. “We’ll lock up. And I’ll bring her back.”
My heart leapt at that in a way I couldn’t quite control.
One more night here.
One more night in a house that felt warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the heater.
Maybe this was the silver lining.
The drive to my place was quiet at first. The streets were pale with leftover frost, the world still shaking off the early morning.
Tyler glanced at me briefly. “Why don’t you just file a report on him?”
I knew this was coming.
“I can’t,” I said softly.
“You can,” he corrected. “He hit you. That's domestic violence.”
I stared out the window. “If the police start asking questions, they’ll realize I’m mostly home alone. They’ll start looking into things. I don’t turn eighteen until September.”
He frowned. “So?”
“So they could decide I shouldn’t be there alone at all. They could call social services. I could end up in foster care over a few months.”
The thought alone sent a shiver through me.
Tyler’s jaw tightened. “That wouldn’t happen.”
“You don’t know that.”
He didn’t argue again, but I could tell he hated it.
When we pulled up to my house, my pulse spiked immediately.
The curtains were crooked.
The front door wasn’t fully closed.
Tyler noticed it at the same time I did.
“Stay in the car,” he said instantly.
“I’m not letting you go in alone.”
“I’m serious, Harper.”
“And I live here,” I shot back, already reaching for the handle.
He was out of the car before I could argue further, moving toward the porch carefully. I followed despite his glare.
The door creaked when he pushed it open.
Inside, the silence felt wrong, like the walls were still holding its breath.
My house no longer felt like mine.
Sam’s things were gone. The couch where he used to sprawl was empty. The duffel bag he kept near the wall had disappeared.
But the house looked like it had been shaken.
Drawers pulled out. A lamp knocked sideways. Papers scattered across the floor like someone had wanted to make a point.
My throat tightened.
I shouldn’t have let him stay. I had known he was unpredictable. I had told myself he'd changed—that I was helping. That I was being kind.
If Tyler's mom hadn’t called…
I would still be here. Alone with him. Pretending I wasn’t scared.
The thought hit all at once, sharp and overwhelming.
I blinked hard, but my vision blurred anyway.
“Harper,” Tyler said quietly.
I hadn’t even realized I was crying until he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around me.
His embrace was careful because of his shoulder, but he kept me close, one hand pressing lightly at my back, as if to remind me he was there.
“It’s okay,” he murmured against my hair. “He’s gone.”
I nodded into his chest, gripping the front of his jacket.
“I’m so stupid,” I whispered.
“You’re not.”
“I let him stay.”
“You were trying to help.”
I shook my head. “I should’ve told you sooner.”
“You did eventually. That's what matters.”
No anger. No blame. Just the calm that always came with him.
He held me until my breathing evened out.
Then we cleaned up enough to close drawers and pick up the worst of the mess. Tyler checked the windows. I found the spare key and locked the front door with hands that trembled less than before.
When we drove away, I didn’t look back.
Mrs. Rose didn’t say anything when she saw my face. She just touched my arm gently and told me to rest. She showed me to the guest room and closed the door softly behind me.
I knew she thought I wanted space.
The truth was, I wanted the opposite.
Still, I lay on top of the covers, staring at the ceiling, replaying everything. The empty house. The hug. The way Tyler had stepped between me and the door without even thinking about it.
A quiet knock sounded.
My heart jumped.
The door opened just enough for a head to peek through.
“Are you awake?” Tyler whispered.
“Yes.”
He slipped inside and closed the door behind him. “Good.”
Before I could ask what he meant, he pulled something from behind his back.
A scarf.
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me.”
He stepped closer and gently tied it over my eyes.
“Tyler.”
“Shh,” he said softly. “If mom finds out I’m bothering you after she told you to rest, she’ll kill me.”
Despite everything, I smiled.
He took my hand and led me out of the room. I could feel the house shifting around me as we moved. Stairs. Then more stairs.
“We’re climbing more than usual,” I said.
“Rooftop,” he replied. “My favorite place.”
The air grew cooler.
Then he stopped.
“Okay,” he said quietly.
The blindfold slipped away.
For a second, I just blinked.
A blanket was spread across the rooftop floor. Rose petals were scattered over it in uneven clusters, like he hadn’t been entirely sure how to arrange them but had tried anyway. Snacks were set out in little bowls. A small projector faced the wall, already glowing faintly.
I turned to him slowly. “You did this while I was resting?”
He shrugged a little. “You looked like you needed something better than an empty house.”
My chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t from fear.
“Tyler…”
“I know we agreed we’d just be friends for now,” he began, but the rest of the sentence disappeared when he leaned down and kissed me.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t desperate. It felt like a promise he wasn’t allowed to make out loud.
When he pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against mine.
“Happy New Year,” he whispered.
I stared at him, stunned.
His eyes widened slightly. “That’s it. I swear. Just…um… a New Year thing. Last time.”
Something in me refused to let it be that simple.
I reached for him, rising on my toes and kissed him again. Longer. Deeper.
Not because I was trying to prove anything. Not because I was running from guilt. But because I wanted to.
When I finally pulled back, my lips curved despite myself. “Happy New Year.”
His laugh was soft, almost disbelieving.
We sat down on the blanket after that, shoulders brushing. He handed me a bag of candy like it was the most natural thing in the world.
The projector flickered to life properly, casting light against the rooftop wall.
The world felt far away up here.
For the first time all day, I wasn’t thinking about Sam. Or Mark. Or my guilt.
I was just here, in the moment, treasuring every minute of it.