Chapter 5 HARPER
By Tuesday morning, the sting of yesterday’s session was still raw. I’d cried myself hoarse after Mom’s call, immediately forgetting all her encouraging words, then spent half the night staring at the ceiling, replaying Tyler’s words in my head. “I don’t need you…” “..unqualified, underaged therapist…” “...don’t start thinking you’re some kind of savior here.”
Well, message received. Loud and clear.
It had been an effort to force myself out of bed to get ready for school. I told myself today would be different, the lessons and Megan would be a welcomed distraction. Something that didn’t remind me of Tyler Mercer glaring at me like I’d ruined his life. But when I walked through the halls, backpack tugging at my shoulder, the whispers started almost immediately.
“Is she the therapist?”
“Yeah. I saw her ride with him yesterday”
“No way. He doesn’t let anyone near him, much less ride in his car.”
I kept my chin up, forcing my steps to stay even, but the heat crept up my neck. The whole student body might as well have been holding a spotlight on me.
“Harper!”
A familiar voice cut through the murmur. Cassie slid up beside me, looping her arm through mine like we’d known each other forever, when we were hardly more than acquaintances. Cassie was loud in a non-annoying way, the outgoing one in my class—confidence dripping from her even in the worn sneakers she refused to replace, though she could afford a new one.
“You’ve officially made it,” she said, grinning.
“Everyone’s talking about you.”
“Lucky me,” I muttered.
Cassie smirked. “Come on, it’s not every day someone gets close to Tyler Mercer, especially since he's now Mr grumpy after the hockey incident. The guy’s practically a myth around here.”
“Close isn’t the word I’d use,” I said, shouldering open my locker.
Cassie leaned against the one beside mine, watching me swap out books. “So, spill. What’s he like outside the ice rink? Broody? Moody? Secretly hilarious? Or just annoyingly perfect?”
“You called him Mr grumpy, what do you think?”
She waved a hand in front of her. “It's just an act not to garner pity from us. I'm sure he's much sweeter at home, right?”
I shut my locker a little harder than necessary. “Try cold. Rude. Impossible.”
Her brows shot up. “Wow. That bad?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
Before she could ask more, a ripple of voices drew our attention toward the cafeteria. The hockey team had arrived.
It was like watching royalty enter. Tall, broad-shouldered guys in letterman jackets, all moving in a loose pack. At the center of it was Tyler, his stride steady, expression unreadable. He didn’t look at anyone—not the girls who leaned in to whisper as he passed, not the teachers pretending not to notice the noise, not even me. Especially not me.
But I saw the slight stiffness in his shoulder, the one he’d said was worse at night.
Cassie followed my gaze. “And there’s the king himself. You sure you’re not into him? Because half the school is.”
“Positive,” I said flatly, though my chest betrayed me with a tight squeeze.
We grabbed lunch and to my surprise, she sat with me near the back, where I had the perfect view of Tyler’s table. His teammates filled the seats around him—Peter, the loudmouth second center and Tyler’s best friend; Jax, the goalie with a sharp laugh; Billy, the left defenseman; Mark, Megan’s older brother and Tyler’s right wing; and a couple others I didn’t know yet. They were loud, tossing fries and joking too much.
Tyler didn’t join in like he used to when he was his old self. He sat back, quiet, only half-listening, like he was there out of obligation, not choice.
Cassie nudged me with her fork. “He’s looking this way.”
My stomach dropped. When I glanced up at him, his eyes were on me, sharp and unblinking, like he was measuring me against some invisible scale. The corner of his mouth twitched—not a smile—before he looked away again, back to his teammates.
I stabbed at my salad. “He’s insufferable.”
“Mm-hm,” Cassie said, smirking. “Keep telling yourself that.”
The rest of the lunch period dragged. I tried to focus on Cassie’s stories about chemistry class and her not-so-subtle crush on Jax, but my attention kept slipping toward Tyler. Every move he made seemed deliberate—stretching his arm, flexing his hand, like he wanted me to notice just how capable he was on his own.
When the bell rang, I rushed to gather my things. Cassie and I split off in the hallway, her to art, me to history. I thought I was in the clear—until I rounded a corner and nearly collided into a wall of muscle.
Tyler.
He didn’t move, didn’t step aside. Just stood there, blocking my way, looking down at me with unwavering eyes, like he was unsure of what to do next.
“Careful,” he said smoothly. “Wouldn’t want you tripping over yourself.”
I tightened my grip on my books. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Didn’t think you would be.” His voice dropped lower, meant for me alone. “But you should know—eyes are on you now. You hang around me, people are gonna start talking.”
“I don’t hang around you,” I shot back. “I work with you.”
His gaze flicked over my face, unreadable. “Keep telling yourself that.”
Before I could respond, a voice called from behind him.
“Mercer!”
Billy jogged up, tossing a puck in the air. “Coach wants us in the gym. You coming to watch?”
Something like pain flashed in his eyes, before it drifted back to me and lingered for a beat too long, then he stepped aside. “Yeah. Be there.”
I brushed past him without another word, but my pulse wouldn’t calm. His warning echoed in my head, threading with the stares I’d already felt all morning.
By the time I slid into my history seat, I realized my hands were still shaking.
And that's when someone passed me a note. I hesitantly took it, reading the cursive writing:
Stay away from Tyler Mercer if you know what’s good for you.
My breath caught. I looked up at the girl who'd passed me the note and she pointed behind her. I turned to see Racquel and her clique—the school's It girls shooting me death stares.
She wiggled her fingers at me with a mocking smile, before her face hardened and she made the ‘my eyes are on you’ gesture.
“Great. One new enemy. So much for Lumina tickets.”