Chapter 104 TYLER
The hospital smelled like antiseptic and overheated air, the kind that clung to your clothes long after you left. I sat on the edge of the examination table while the doctor rotated my shoulder carefully, his fingers testing the limits of the joint.
“Tell me if there’s pain,” he said.
“There’s discomfort,” I replied.
“That’s expected.”
Dad stood near the wall, arms folded, watching every movement like he could will the tendon to heal faster.
The doctor stepped back at last. “You’re progressing well. The tear is healing. It’s not perfect yet, so you’re not cleared for full contact, but at this rate, you could be ready for March.”
My heart kicked hard against my ribs. “‘could?’”
He smiled. “If you continue therapy exactly the way you’ve been doing it. No shortcuts. No overconfidence. Then yes.”
Dad exhaled quietly, the tension in his shoulders easing.
“And the sling?” I asked.
“You don’t need it anymore,” the doctor said. “But that doesn’t mean you’re invincible. Be careful. Protect the joint. Finish your exercises.”
“I will.”
As we walked out of the room, I felt lighter than I had in months. Not healed, not fully back, but close enough to see it.
In the car, Dad started the engine and pulled into traffic. For a while, neither of us spoke. The radio hummed softly in the background.
“I’m proud of you,” he said finally.
I glanced at him. “For tearing my shoulder?”
“For not letting it define you.”
I leaned back in my seat. “I didn’t really have a choice.”
“You always have a choice. Some people quit when things get hard. You doubled down.”
I stared out the window, watching the town blur past. “I can’t quit. Not now.”
He nodded slowly. “You heard the doctor. If you keep pushing like this, you’ll be back by March. And that’s the game that matters.”
“I know.”
“You ready for that?”
“I’ve been ready since I was ten.”
He smiled faintly at that.
The silence that followed felt different, less stiff. Dad wasn’t home as much as he used to be. Work kept him traveling, chasing contracts and meetings in cities that sounded important. When he was home, it sometimes felt like we were catching up on months in a few conversations.
“How are things otherwise?” he asked.
“Otherwise?”
“With you. School. Friends.”
I knew what he meant before he said her name.
“And Harper?”
I kept my eyes forward. “We’re fine.”
“Fine?”
“We’re friends.”
He hummed under his breath. “You’ve never looked at any of your other friends the way you look at her.”
Heat crept up my neck. “You’re imagining things.”
“I don’t think I am.”
I let out a breath. “We’re taking it slow.”
“So there is something.”
I shot him a look. “You set that up.”
He laughed. “I asked a question.”
I shook my head, but I couldn’t stop the small smile tugging at my mouth.
Dad’s expression turned thoughtful. “About that talk we were supposed to have—I’m not against you being in a relationship, Tyler. I just don’t want you getting into one because it’s convenient. Or because it’s fun.”
“It’s not like that.”
“I didn’t say it was.” He paused. “You’re graduating in a few months. If things go well in March and scouts are serious, your life could change quickly. That affects whoever you’re with.”
“I know.”
“High school relationships don’t always survive that kind of shift. Sometimes they’re just part of growing up, and sometimes kids your age just see it as an experience.”
Harper’s face flashed in my mind. The way she sat opposite me, helping with my therapy. The way she called me out when I tried to slack off. The way she looked at me like I was capable of more than I even believed.
“She’s not just an experience,” I said before I could stop myself.
Dad’s smile widened slightly.
I groaned. “You did that on purpose.”
“Maybe.”
“She’s different,” I insisted.
“I’m not saying she isn’t.” His tone softened. “I’m saying if you care about her, you need to think about the future honestly. Not fear it. Not ignore it. Just understand that dreams come with movement.”
Movement.
Leaving.
I stared at my hands.
“Just don’t promise something you’re not ready to carry,” he finished.
We pulled into the driveway then, cutting the conversation short.
Jacob burst out the front door before we even stepped out of the car. “Did they fix you?”
“I wasn’t broken,” I said.
Dad laughed and ruffled his hair. “Give your brother a break.”
Jacob immediately launched into a dramatic retelling of something that had happened while Dad was gone, effectively stealing his attention.
I took the opportunity to slip inside.
Harper hadn’t looked at me properly since yesterday afternoon. She’d smiled when she needed to. Laughed when Jacob said something ridiculous. But there had been distance in her eyes, and it was driving me insane. Every time I tried to talk to her, she slipped out of reach.
I found her in the guest room, seated at the desk with a textbook open in front of her.
“You know it’s break, right?” I said lightly.
She looked up, a little startled. “I know.”
“You’re studying anyway?”
“Distraction,” she replied.
I leaned against the doorframe. “How’s that working?”
She shrugged. “Fine.”
I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. “Hospital went well. Doctor says I might make March.”
Her face lit up instantly. “That’s amazing.”
“I don’t need the sling anymore either.”
“That’s good.” She stood. “I’m glad.”
There was that distance again.
“Harper,” I said carefully. “Did something happen?”
“No.”
“You’ve been avoiding me.”
“I haven’t.”
“You left yesterday. During the game.”
“I wasn’t feeling great.”
“You feeling better now?”
“Not exactly. I think I might just go to bed.”
“It’s two in the afternoon,” I said gently. “Are you sure you’re not coming down with something?”
She glanced toward the bathroom door. “I guess I’m just tired.”
I stepped forward before she could slip past me, not blocking her entirely, just enough to make her pause.
“If I did something wrong,” I said quietly, “please tell me.”
“You didn’t.”
“Then what’s going on?”
Her eyes shimmered slightly, and that scared me more than anything.
“It’s nothing,” she whispered.
“It’s not nothing.”
She hesitated, then pressed her lips together like she was bracing herself.
“I had a thought,” she said finally. “And it won’t go away.”
“What thought?”
“That you’re going to leave.”
The words landed quietly, but they hit hard.
“Harper.”
“You are,” she continued, her voice trembling despite her effort to steady it. “You’re going to get scouted. You’re going to move. You’re going to chase your dream. And you should. I’d never ask you not to. But I keep thinking about how small this town is compared to where you’re headed. And I’m just… your friend.”
“You’re not just my friend.”
She blinked. “I’m not your girlfriend. I’m not anything official. I’m just the girl who’s here right now. What happens when you’re somewhere else?”
I stepped closer. “You think I’d forget you?”
“You’ll be busy,” she said, her voice cracking. “You’ll meet new people. New places. And I’ll still be here.”
I cupped her face gently, careful with my shoulder. “You’re number one in my life. Do you understand that?”
Her breath hitched.
“I meant what I said. I care about you. A lot.”
She searched my face like she was trying to measure the weight of my words.
“I told you I wouldn’t kiss you again,” I said quietly. “But physical touch is how I show what I feel. And right now I need you to feel it.”
Her gaze dropped to my mouth.
“Can I kiss you?” I asked softly.
She didn’t answer.
She closed the distance instead.
Her lips met mine with a certainty that stole the air from my lungs. I pulled her closer carefully, my good arm wrapping around her waist. I needed her to feel the way my heart ached for her, how she was always the first thing on my mind each morning, how much I wanted her all to myself and to make us official. She was the only person I could imagine spending my entire life with.
The kiss deepened, not rushed, not reckless, but full of everything we’d been circling for days.
For a moment, nothing else existed.
Then the door flew open.
“Surprise!”
The shout echoed through the room.
We broke apart instantly.
A cluster of my teammates stood there, grinning. Someone held a bag of chips like it was part of the celebration.
And at the front stood Mark.
His expression shifted from excitement to confusion to something far more stunned.
My stomach dropped.
Harper’s face drained of color. Guilt washed over her features as she looked from Mark to me, then to Peter standing awkwardly near the back.
Peter avoided my eyes.
Mark’s jaw tightened. “What the hell’s going on?”
No one laughed now.
The room felt suffocatingly small.
Harper stepped back from me as if distance could undo what had just happened.
I looked at Mark, then at her, and the reality settled heavily in my chest.
I'd messed up.