Chapter 16 HARPER
Tyler didn't even get a chance to speak before his mother’s hand struck hard against his cheek.
“I trained you better than to raise your voice at a woman like that,” Mrs. Mercer's voice carried, brittle and razor-edged. Her face had hardened, the warmth I'd once known now completely gone. “You will apologize—now.”
I held my breath waiting for Tyler to go off on his mom. But he turned back to me, jaw clenched. “I didn’t mean to.”
I shook my head, pressing my lips together. “It’s okay.”
He started toward the house, only for his mom to stop in his tracks as she extended the ticket she’d taken from my hand to him.
“This will be good for you. Besides, it’s bad behaviour to turn down an offer from a friend without giving it any consideration.”
To my surprise, he nodded stiffly and took it. Wow, way to go Mrs. Mercer.
“I’m going to pick up a few things from the store,” she told me, heading for her car. “By the way, Love the new haircut, Harper.”
I gave my hair a little shy pat as I whispered, “Thanks.”
When I joined Tyler in the living room of his house, he was dead silent, just sitting on the couch staring at the ticket in his hand.
“So,” I began, unsure how to break up the tension. Mrs. Mercer might have poked the stomach of the bear and threw me inside the den with it. I cleared my throat. ‘We did the Codman exercise last. Today, we’ll try something a bit different. A wand exercise, to help with stiffness and mobility.”
I waited for him to give me a reaction, or hint that he was paying attention, but got nothing. He didn’t even bother looking up at me. I bit the flesh in my cheek, pondering whether to continue or not.
“He hasn’t visited. Not once since I got injured.”
My pulse raised. Had he just spoken to me?
“Not once has he acted like a true best-friend would since then.” He glanced up at me then as I shifted in my feet, holding out the ticket. “This—this is just him using me.”
A warm, fuzzy feeling flooded my chest. He was opening up to me. We were finally getting somewhere.
Praying not to mess this up, I approached him slowly, claiming the space beside him on the couch. “What do you mean ‘using you?’ ”
“Believe it or not, my presence there will be kind of a big deal. It means more attraction, discount on drinks, hell, even free access to certain things.”
“Or maybe he’s just inviting you to try and make up for being a bad friend. You’re not exactly easy to hang around.”
His body stiffened then. I blinked my eyes closed saying a quick prayer, but it was already too late. He tossed the ticket aside, rising to his feet.
“Get on with the exercise,” he ordered.
I sighed. “Tyler, I didn’t mean—”
“Are we doing this or not?” His expression had gone taut, his hands shoved into his pocket.
My heart literally cracked seeing him build the walls around him once more.
I nodded quietly, standing up. “Okay. We’ll do it your way.”
The air between us turned heavy, like even breathing too loud might set something off. I moved to stand in front of him, handing him the half-empty bottle we’d been using as a wand substitute, and he took it without a word.
“Hold it shoulder-width apart,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He obeyed, slow and stiffly. The silence stretched, so thick it almost hurt to exist in it. I stepped closer, steadying his elbow as he lifted the bottle. His arm trembled halfway up, muscles tightening beneath my touch.
“Does it hurt?”
He didn’t answer. His jaw flexed, eyes locked on the floor.
“Tyler—”
“I’m fine.”
But he wasn’t. His breathing hitched the higher his arm went. I could see it—the strain in his shoulder, the twitch of pain at the corner of his mouth.
“Stop pretending,” I murmured.
His head snapped up, eyes piercing. “What?”
“Stop pretending you’re fine when you’re not.” I met his gaze and didn’t look away this time.
“You do that a lot. You hide behind this… cold front. Like if you act like nothing hurts, no one will see that you actually care.”
He lowered the water bottle, shifting it to his good hand. His fingers tightened around it.
“You think just because we’ve had a few sessions you know me that well?”
“No,” I admitted softly. “But I’m trying to.”
For a moment, neither of us spoke. His eyes searched mine, something unreadable flickering behind them. He looked… tired. Not the kind of tired a nap could fix—deeper.
He exhaled roughly and turned away. “You shouldn’t waste your time.”
“Too late,” I said before I could stop myself.
His shoulders tensed again, but he didn’t respond. Instead, he sat back down, running a hand over his face. “You’re really not scared of me, are you?”
The question caught me off guard. “Should I be?”
“I don’t know.” He leaned back, staring at the ceiling. “Most people are.”
I smiled faintly. “Maybe they just don’t know how to look,” I joked. “Stop smiling for a moment, decide to keep to yourself, and suddenly you’re the villain in everyone’s story.”
His eyes flicked to mine, and for a second, I wondered if I’d pushed too far. But then his gaze softened, just barely, like he wasn’t sure whether to be offended or grateful I’d said it.
The tension wasn’t angry anymore. It was fragile. Cautious. A thread stretched too tight, waiting to snap or settle.
I swallowed, gesturing toward the bottle in his hand. “Let’s try again. Slowly this time. I’ll assist you.”
He hesitated, but I was already reaching for the bottle. Our fingers brushed, and for a split second, I forgot how to breathe. His skin was warm—still— while mine buzzed like a live wire.
“Lift,” I murmured.
He did, this time smoother, quieter. The bottle rose above his head, his shoulder muscles tightening and relaxing in rhythm with his breath.
“Better,” I said.
“Guess you’re not completely useless after all,” he muttered.
“Wow. Thanks.”
A tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Barely there—but it was.
And somehow, that small, reluctant smile felt like progress.
When the set was done, I gathered my things.
He was still sitting there, elbow resting on his knee, ticket lying on the table between us.
“I’m going, you know.” I paused, choosing my next words carefully. “Trust me, your presence would really mean a lot to me, but not in the way it would to your friends.”
“Hmm,” he said, voice distant as he stared into nothingness.
I turned to the door, though my feet didn’t move. “You’ll think about it? The event, I mean.”
He didn’t answer right away. Then, quietly, “Maybe.”
I gave him a small smile and headed for the door. The moment I reached it, his voice stopped me.
“Harper?”
I turned.
He was still in the same spot, eyes on the ticket. “Sorry…. for yelling at you earlier.”
Something in my chest twisted. “It’s okay.”
Outside, I exhaled, realizing how long I’d been holding my breath. The late afternoon air felt lighter than the one I’d left inside. But as I walked down the steps, I glanced back through the window.
Tyler was still there—same seat, same silence—but this time, the ticket wasn’t on the table.
It was in his hand
.
And somehow, I knew it wasn’t just the ticket he was thinking about.