Chapter 41 TYLER
Shit.
The word slipped out before I even knew it. One second, I was just telling her to come along, and the next—I’d called her babe.
Two years of calling Raquel that, and my stupid mouth decided now was the time to bring it back. I froze before I even saw Harper’s reaction, every muscle going tight.
It didn’t sound wrong when it came out, and maybe that’s what messed me up most. It had rolled off too easily.
“Play it cool,” I muttered under my breath, forcing my throat to clear. I turned, pretending nothing had happened. “You coming?”
She didn’t answer right away. Harper just stood there, her eyes a little too wide, like she wasn’t sure she’d heard right.
For fuck’s sake, please don’t ask.
“Y-yeah,” she said finally, her voice small. “Yeah. I’m right behind you.”
I nodded and headed for the door before either of us could make it worse.
The drive back to my place was quiet—one of those silences that made you aware of every sound around you. The rain against the windshield. Her faint breathing beside me. The soft squeak of her wet shoes whenever she shifted.
Half of me wanted to say something normal, maybe ask if she was feeling better after the way she'd cried earlier, but the other half—the one that was still recovering from accidentally calling her babe—decided to keep my mouth shut.
When I pulled into the driveway, she unbuckled her seatbelt and glanced out the window. “Never thought I’d say this, but your house looks cozier in the rain.”
I let out a low breath, fingers still on the steering wheel. “Funny. Couple days ago, you preferred the rain to being here.”
Her head turned slightly, and I could see her reflection in the window—calm, impassive. “Yeah, well… that day was different.”
The quiet that followed pressed in a little too much. I wanted to say I know. Or apologize for my attitude that day. But the words stuck somewhere behind my teeth.
Instead, I muttered, “Guess it does look better in the rain.”
That earned me a faint smile before she looked back out the window. “Told you.”
Inside, the scent of cinnamon hit immediately. My mom was in the kitchen, humming to herself as usual. She looked up the second we walked in.
“Harper, honey, you’re soaked again,” she said, drying her hands on a towel.
“I swear I attract rain clouds,” Harper said sheepishly.
Mom chuckled. “You know where everything is by now. Grab a towel from the guest bathroom, or Tyler can lend you something dry. I just put a new batch of cookies in the oven. I'll bring some up once it's ready.”
“Thanks, Mrs. Mercer,” Harper said.
Mom raised an eyebrow. “Harper, how many times have I told you to call me Rose?”
“Right. Sorry,” she winced, then offered a smile. “Thanks, Rose.”
I cleared my throat. “We’ll be upstairs.”
Mom shot me an amused look, a faint grin playing on her lips as she waved a hand, dismissing us.
✨✨✨
Upstairs, I tossed a hoodie and a new pair of drawls on the bed. “You can change in the bathroom.”
She picked up the hoodie, eyes flicking over it. “You’ve got good taste,” she said lightly. “Might start making a habit of getting caught in the rain just to borrow your clothes.”
I looked at her, unsure if she was teasing or serious. “You’d freeze first.”
She grinned. “Worth it.”
And before I could come up with a comeback, she disappeared into the bathroom.
I rubbed a hand over my face and tried to clear my study table for the exercises. These sessions were supposed to help rebuild my shoulder, not wreck my head.
✨✨✨
When she came out, the hoodie looked ridiculous on her—huge, sleeves hanging past her hands, the length almost falling to her knees—but still, she managed to look… good. Too good.
“Fits better than the last,” she chuckled, tugging at the hem.
“Yeah. Guess it does.”
She glanced around the table. “Okay, we’re focusing on only flexibility today. First, let’s start with wall slides. Then internal rotations. Then we’ll finish with the table-supported Codman exercises.”
“Mm,” I said, keeping my tone clipped, letting her take the lead. I didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me hesitate.
She demonstrated the wall slides as usual, and I followed, careful, my movements slow and precise. She watched me like she actually cared, occasionally stepping in to adjust my arm, fingers brushing lightly against me. I tried not to notice, but I did.
By the time we finished the internal rotations, my shoulder ached and my chest felt tight. The simple exercises were deceptively tiring.
A soft knock drew our attention to the door as my Mom stepped in, carrying a tray.
“Thought you two might need a little break,” she said, setting it down on the table. On it were cookies, two glasses of juice, and that look she always had when she thought she knew more than I let on.
“Thanks, Rose,” Harper said, leaning forward to grab a cookie.
I muttered a quick thanks, trying to act normal, though part of me didn’t want anyone noticing how distracted I’d become by the frosting at the corner of her mouth.
Mom lingered for a moment, watching me carefully as I tested the range of motion in my shoulder, moving the casted arm slowly. “How’s it feeling?” she asked.
“Better than last week,” I admitted, wincing slightly at a tight spot.
Harper glanced at me, hands on her knees. “Still a little stiff, but manageable. By next week, he should be ready to start some light full-body exercises for hockey conditioning.”
Mom smiled, looking from me to Harper. “You’re going to make one hell of a physiotherapist if you decide to go into the field.”
Harper’s cheeks colored faintly. “I-I’ll think about it.”
I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling heat creeping up my ears. Mom’s praise had a way of making me self-conscious no matter what, and the way Harper looked so confident while giving feedback didn’t help.
Mom lingered a moment longer, her eyes soft but assessing. “Just remember, safety first. Don’t push too hard.”
“Understood,” I muttered, giving a nod.
Harper added quickly, “And if anything hurts, let me know right away. We’ll adjust the exercises.”
Mom nodded approvingly, then left, closing the door behind her.
The moment the door clicked shut, my thumb moved on its own and brushed the frosting from her mouth. She froze just slightly, and so did I.
I pulled back, shoving my hand into my damp uniform jumper. “You had something there,” I muttered, keeping my tone casual, though my mind was racing.
Her gaze lingered on mine a beat longer before a curl fell into her eyes, forcing her to break contact. She gave me a faint smirk that made it impossible to focus on anything else.
“So, by next week we’ll start with tougher exercises, as well as some light full-body training,” she said.
“Yeah?” I blinked, returning to the present. “You meant what you told my mom, then?”
She nodded, brushing at the cookie crumbs still clinging to her hoodie. “Yeah. I’ll have to confirm with her, but it looks like you’re recovering faster than expected.”
For the first time in weeks, a genuine smile spread across my face.
“That’s… that’s awesome,” I said.
Her eyes brightened. “I’ve never really seen you smile. You should do it more often.”
I chuckled, running a hand through my hair. “Yeah. If that’s what you want.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, but I played it off with a smirk. Harper didn’t react, thankfully.
“I’ll see you tomorrow, then?” she asked, rising to her feet to gather her things.
“Yeah,” I said, taking in the way she moved. “Looking forward to it.”
A flicker of surprise crossed her face before she offered a small, genuine smile.
I realized something then, something I’d been trying so hard not to admit. Harper wasn’t just a stand-in therapist or part of a stupid bet anymore. She was becoming… a friend. Someone I actually looked forward to seeing, whose presence made the day lighter, even in the middle of all the pain and frustration.
And damn it, I didn’t want that to end.