Chapter 152 TYLER

Chapter 152 TYLER
The final bell had rung a while ago, but the school parking lot was still busy enough to feel alive. Engines started, doors slammed, voices carried across the open space in bursts that faded as quickly as they came. I leaned against my car for a second, staring at the phone in my hand, reading Harper’s last message like it might suddenly explain more than it already did.

‘My mom came to get me. I’ll explain later.’

That was it.

No emojis. No teasing tone. No ‘miss you already’ like she’d started adding lately without even thinking about it.

Just that.

I told myself she probably needed time with her mom. After everything that had happened, that made sense. Still, it stayed at the back of my mind, refusing to let go.

I exhaled and shoved the phone into my pocket before getting into the driver’s seat. Peter was already sitting in the car, scrolling through something on his phone like he owned the place.

“Took you long enough,” he said without looking up.

“I was here first,” I shot back, starting the engine.

“Mentally, maybe. Physically, you disappeared.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling out of the parking lot. “You talk too much.”

“And you think too much,” he replied easily, finally glancing at me. “What’s up with you?”

I didn’t answer right away. The road ahead stretched out, familiar and routine, but my head felt anything but.

“Let me ask you something,” I said eventually.

Peter leaned back in his seat, already suspicious. “That tone never leads to anything good, but go on.”

“If you had a girlfriend,” I started, keeping my eyes on the road, “like… someone you actually cared about. And you had to choose between her and hockey… what would you do?”

That got his attention.

He turned fully toward me. “I’m going to assume we’re talking about Harper,” he said slowly. “Because I refuse to believe you’re asking me this for fun.”

I didn’t deny it.

He let out a short laugh, shaking his head. “I’m not going to lie, I didn’t expect that question from you. I thought you were obsessed with her.”

“I am,” I said immediately. “That’s the problem.”

He frowned. “How is that a problem?”

I tightened my grip slightly on the steering wheel.

“Because what if I focus on just… us, and somewhere down the line she realizes I’ve got nothing else going on?”

Peter blinked at me. “Nothing going on? Are you serious right now?”

“I mean it,” I said. “Think about it. Hockey is everything for me. It’s the only thing I’ve actually built something with. If I walk away from it, what’s left? What do I even do?”

He stared at me like I’d just said something ridiculous. “You’ve got money. You’ve got your parents backing you. You’ve got a name in school, a reputation, skills people still respect even with you off the ice. And you’re telling me that’s nothing?”

“That’s exactly it,” I said, glancing at him briefly. “All of that is tied to hockey. Take that away and what am I?”

Peter didn’t answer immediately this time.

“If I decide to quit,” I continued, “and just focus on Harper, on college… what am I going to study? What job am I aiming for? I’ve never thought about anything outside of hockey. Not seriously.”

The words felt heavier the more I said them out loud.

“Before Harper, it was just hockey,” I added. “Now it’s both. But outside of that… I don’t know what I want.”

Peter leaned back again, quieter now. “You’re overthinking it.”

I huffed a dry laugh. “You think?”

“I know,” he said. “You’re acting like your entire life needs to be figured out right now. We’re still in high school.”

“Not for long,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, and?” he shrugged. “That doesn’t mean you suddenly need to have everything planned. If you don’t want to work, you don’t have to. You’ve got that privilege. Use it.”

I shook my head slightly. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“The point is… hockey is still there,” I said. “Waiting. And if I go back to it fully, really chase it… it’s not just here. It’s bigger than this. It means traveling, being busy, not being around.”

Peter’s expression shifted again, more thoughtful now. “And Harper?” he asked.

I let out a breath. “That’s exactly it. What if chasing hockey means losing her?”

Silence settled between us for a moment, not awkward, just heavier than before.

“You know,” Peter said eventually, “that’s a conversation you should probably be having with her.”

“I know,” I muttered. “I just… haven’t.”

He nodded slowly. “Figures.”

I glanced at him. “What would you do?”

He thought about it for a second, then smirked slightly. “Honestly? If I were you, I’d probably do something stupid.”

“That’s not reassuring.”

“I mean it,” he said, laughing lightly. “Like… propose or something.”

I almost slammed the brakes.

“Propose?” I repeated. “Are you insane?”

“I said it would be stupid,” he pointed out. “But think about it. If she says yes, that’s it. You’re locked in. She’s locked in. No one’s going anywhere.”

I stared at him. “That sounds less like romance and more like a trap.”

He grinned. “Call it what you want. It works.”

“It’s emotional blackmail,” I said. “And we’re seventeen.”

“Details.”

“Important details,” I shot back. “I don’t even turn eighteen until next month. Harper still has months to go. That’s not something you just… jump into.”

Peter raised his hands in surrender. “Relax. I didn’t say do it. I said that’s the kind of irrational thing I would do.”

I shook my head, but a small laugh slipped out anyway. “That actually sounds exactly like you.”

“See?” he said proudly. “I’m consistent.”

We turned into my street not long after, the conversation easing into something lighter, but the weight of it stayed with me anyway, sitting somewhere I tried my best to ignore.

As I pulled into the driveway, something caught my attention immediately.

Harper.

She was standing on the porch.

Peter leaned forward slightly. “Well, speak of the girlfriend.” He waved as we got out. “Hey, Harps! What's up?”

She lifted a hand in return, but the smile that came with it didn’t reach her eyes.

And just like that, something in me tightened.

Peter didn’t seem to notice. “I’m starving,” he announced, already heading toward the door. “I’m going to see what Mama T has for us.”

He disappeared inside without waiting for a response, leaving me alone with her.

I walked up the steps slowly, my focus locked on her. “Hey,” I said, stopping in front of her. “You okay?”

She shrugged like it was nothing. “My parents got divorced.”

Just like that.

No build-up. No warning.

I stared at her, trying to process how casually she’d said something that definitely wasn’t casual.

“Harper…” I started.

She looked away, like she didn’t want me studying her too closely. But I saw it anyway. The way her lips pressed together, the small movement of her jaw like she was biting back more than she wanted to say.

I stepped closer without thinking, reaching up to cup her face gently. My thumb brushed along her cheek, slow and careful.

“You don’t have to pretend you’re fine,” I said quietly. “No one would be okay with that.”

She let out a small, uneven laugh. “Thank you. At least someone finally gets it.”

Her eyes dropped, settling somewhere around my chest instead of meeting mine.

“My dad got full custody,” she said after a moment. “My mom… she gets visits. Scheduled.”

I stayed quiet, letting her talk.

“I thought I was still mad at her,” she continued. “And maybe I was. But when it actually happened… when I saw her…” She paused, swallowing. “I’ve never seen her cry like that before.”

I brushed a strand of her.

“She looked… broken,” Harper added softly. “And I hate that I understand why.”

I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but she shook her head lightly.

“No, I get it,” she said. “Maybe it was her work. Maybe it was both of them. Maybe life just… got in the way.”

She pulled back from me, wrapping her arms around herself as she stared out into the evening.

“They were everything I thought love was supposed to be,” she said. “And it still ended like that.”

I felt something sink in my stomach at the way she said it.
She turned back to me then, her eyes searching mine in a way that made it impossible to look away.

“What if that happens to us?” she asked.

The question landed between us, heavy and real.

“We haven’t even started anything properly,” she continued. “We’re just finishing high school. There’s still college, your career, everything ahead of us. What if life does the same thing to us?”

I wanted to answer immediately. To tell her it wouldn’t happen. That we were different. That we’d figure it out.
But the truth sat there, quiet and stubborn.

I didn’t know.

And she could see it.

For once, I didn’t have something ready to say. No reassurance that sounded right. No promise I could make without questioning it myself.

So I stayed there, standing in front of her, feeling the same fear she was putting into words.

Because she wasn’t wrong, and I didn’t know how to make it better when I was just as unsure.