Chapter 42 HARPER
The morning air was cool, thick with mist that clung to my hair and the world around me. My shoes scuffed against the damp asphalt as I crossed the school parking lot, phone pressed to my ear and my bag slung over one shoulder.
“His range is improving a lot,” I said, dodging a puddle. “But he’s starting to ask when he can get back to light hockey drills. Should I let him try next week?”
On the other end, Mom hummed thoughtfully. “Not yet. It’s still too soon for full-body work. Give it another week of mobility and endurance training before you introduce stick handling again.”
I adjusted my grip on the phone. “You sure? His strength is better. He barely winced during the internal rotations yesterday.”
“Harper,” she said gently, using that calm, doctor-voice I’d grown up with, “better doesn’t mean ready. He’s young, impatient, and competitive. That’s a dangerous mix for a healing shoulder.”
“Yeah,” I muttered. “Got it.” I stepped onto the walkway, shifting my bag higher. “I’ll tell him.”
She paused, then her tone softened. “And how are you doing?”
My pace slowed. “Me?”
“Yes, you,” she said. “You’ve been handling sessions, school, the divorce… you never talk about how you’re actually feeling.”
I let out a short, humorless laugh. “I’m fine, Mom. Really. It’s not like I didn’t see it coming.”
“That doesn’t make it any easier,” she said quietly.
“I know,” I said, watching the water trail down the hood of a nearby car. “But it’s fine. I expected it sooner or later.”
Mom sighed softly. “You sound just like me at your age.”
I smiled faintly, though she couldn’t see it. “Guess that explains a lot.”
There was a pause—soft, thoughtful—before her tone shifted again. “Before I forget, your cousin Sam’s coming to stay with you for a while.”
I stopped mid-step. “Wait. What?”
“Just until I’m back from an important conference I have to attend. He needs a place for a bit, and I’d feel better knowing someone’s with you.”
“Mom, I like being alone,” I said, resuming my walk. “And Sam? Seriously? After everything he did?.”
“He’s changed, Harper,” she said, that same patient tone slipping in. “He knows to behave. Just give him a chance.”
I tightened my grip on the phone. “Mom—”
“Please,” she cut in. “It’ll only be for a short while. He won’t get in your way.”
I was about to argue when the sound of a familiar engine broke through the rain-muted air. A sleek black Audi A3 rolled into the lot, pulling smoothly into the same spot it always did.
Tyler.
I exhaled slowly. “Mom, I’ve got to go. I’ll call you later.”
“All right. And Harper?”
“Yeah?”
“Try not to carry everything on your shoulders. Even you have limits.”
I bit the inside of my cheek. “Bye, Mom.”
She sighed through a quiet laugh. “Bye, sweetheart.”
I ended the call just as the Audi door opened. Tyler stepped out, right hand automatically adjusting the strap of his backpack while his left arm stayed still in its sling. The faint chill of the morning seemed to fade around him somehow—he didn’t look like the same distant, closed-off version of himself from when he'd resumed. Still guarded, yes, but… lighter.
He spotted me instantly. “Hey,” he called out, his tone low but warmer than usual.
“Hey,” I said, slowing my steps until we met halfway.
He gave a small nod, shifting his bag higher with his good hand. “You’re early.”
“I could say the same,” I said. “How’s the shoulder?”
“Not bad,” he said, flexing his fingers slightly. “Didn’t ache as much this morning.”
“That’s good,” I said, trying to match his smile. “Maybe you’re finally listening to my instructions.”
He huffed a quiet laugh. “Maybe you’re finally giving reasonable ones.”
I rolled my eyes. “Careful. I can make your exercises twice as hard.”
His lips curved again—small, genuine. “Guess I’ll behave then.”
Something fluttered in my chest, and I tried to push it down.
“So,” he said, adjusting the strap again, “you talk to your mom this morning?”
My breath hitched for a split second before I forced an easy tone. “No, not yet.” I shrugged. “Why?”
“Just wondering if she’s still planning to clear me for next week.”
“Ah,” I said quickly. “Right. I’ll ask her tonight.”
He nodded, apparently satisfied, and the two of us started toward the building together.
The moment we stepped into class, the noise hit—low whispers, laughter, a few people standing on desks. Peter stood at the front, flapping his arms. “Guys! Keep it down! It’s supposed to be a secret!”
Tyler frowned. “Secret what?”
“Senior send-off party,” Peter grinned. “Off record, Friday night. You didn’t hear it from me.”
Tyler gave him a look. “You mean the kind of party that gets us suspended?”
Peter’s grin widened. “That’s the one.”
I slid into my seat, amused. The energy in the room was chaotic. Notes passed between rows. Whispers floated about playlists, and someone was already arguing over snacks. The room buzzed with the best and worst parts of senior year.
Tyler lingered near Peter, and I caught the low murmur of his voice.
“Hey, man,” he said, rubbing his neck. “About the whole ‘not visiting’ thing… I guess I've made peace with it. I forgive you.”
Peter’s face lit up like someone had just handed him a winning lottery ticket. He practically leapt forward, clapping Tyler on the shoulder with a grin so wide it threatened to split his face.
“Dude, really?” Tyler nodded and he pulled him into a bear hug. “That’s awesome! This is going to be like old times, I swear. Drinks, pizza, bad jokes… you know, the whole chaotic Peter package!”
Tyler let a corner of his mouth twitch. Something inside him loosened, just a little.
Peter bumped fists with him, practically vibrating with excitement. “We’re back, baby! No more cold recluse Tyler—just you, me, and absolute chaos.”
Tyler's corner of his mouth twitched with a small sigh., and for the first time in a while, he seemed lighter, like some of the tension I’d gotten used to seeing around him had eased, just a little.
Then Cassie stood and clapped. “Okay! Before anyone gets ideas—prom poll! Tyler Mercer first!”
Half the class cheered, half groaned. Peter drew a piece of paper from the makeshift poll basket they'd made containing all the names of girls in our class, and Racquel’s name came up immediately.
Tyler didn’t even hesitate. “If it’s not Harper, I’m not going.”
Every head turned.
Racquel blinked, visibly thrown. “Excuse me?”
Before I could even react, someone yelled, “Then it’s Harper!” and the whole class erupted in laughter and mock applause.
I turned toward him, heat creeping up my neck. “Tyler, what the hell—”
He leaned closer, his voice soft and teasing. “What? I like honest votes.”
I glared, but my mouth betrayed me with a faint smile. Racquel seethed.
When Peter read out the other results of the poll, Cassie’s name came up beside Jax’s.
The reaction was immediate—whistles, laughter, a few teasing chants. Cassie, however, didn’t even fake a smile. She just leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, pretending to be bored.
Across the room, Jax looked caught between smug and uncertain, like he couldn’t tell if he should be pleased or worried. Cassie avoided his gaze, but the flush in her cheeks betrayed her feelings.
Peter, oblivious to the tension, was already hyping everyone up, announcing this would be the ‘party of the year.’ Racquel slumped in her seat, muttering with her friends, while the rest of the class buzzed with excitement. For the first time in weeks, the room felt alive.
Tyler leaned back, more at ease than I’d seen him in days. His right hand drummed lightly on the desk, a quiet rhythm that made him seem almost casual.
“You’re enjoying this,” I whispered.
He gave me a half-smile. “Maybe. Feels good to actually step out of my shell for once.”
“Don’t get used to it,” I teased, voice laced with sarcasm.
He smirked. “No promises.”
Before I could come up with a comeback, a loud crash echoed from the hallway—followed by shouting.
The laughter froze.
Peter turned, eyes wide. “What was that?”
Tyler was already standing, his posture tense, the easy calm from moments ago gone in an instant.
He scanned the door, body going alert as he braced himself for whatever waited just beyond the classroom walls.
I felt my stomach twist.
Because deep down, I had a feeling whatever that sound was—it wasn’t going to be good.