Chapter 74 TYLER
The diner smelled faintly of grease and peppermint from the holiday specials they’d hung up in faded paper signs. Steam rose off our half-eaten plates of fries and burgers, curling like the fog that clung to my brain. Peter had already polished off his burger and was mid-way through teasing Jax about his ‘selective chewing skills’ when the conversation turned, inevitably, to Harper.
“You ever gonna tell her?” Peter asked suddenly, shoving a fry into his mouth but keeping his eyes on me. Not subtle. Not at all.
I froze mid-bite, trying to swallow without coughing. “Tell who what?” I said, deliberately slow, because I wasn’t ready to play this game in front of the boys.
Peter smirked around his food. “Don’t play dumb. You know exactly who. Harper.”
I chewed thoughtfully, hoping the sensation of food in my mouth would somehow shield me from having to answer. “Can we… not talk about that right now?” I muttered, keeping my gaze on my plate.
Jax leaned back, rolling his shoulder experimentally, wincing just enough to remind me that injuries suck regardless of who has. “Oh, come on, Tyler. No one asked you to give an account of that bet again because we all know how you feel. The team realized it weeks ago. And now, we're all waiting for you to make it official. But you keep staring at her like she’s some kind of trophy you’re too scared to claim.”
I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. “I’m not scared.”
Peter snorted. “Sure, man. You're not.”
“Yeah,” Jax added. “The playboy of Westfield, the guy who can literally get any girl he wants, suddenly lost all game? Just like that?”
I shot him a deathly look. “First, I’m not a playboy. Second, Harper’s not like anyone else. She’s—she’s…” I trailed off, caught in the cornered honesty I wasn't ready to show.
Kane, who had been quietly unwrapping a napkin like he was mentally preparing for an injury drill, spoke up. “She’s the only girl who’s actually gotten through that wall of yours, Tyler. Since your injury—since the party—you’re different around her. It’s obvious.”
I gritted my teeth, stabbing at a fry.
“She’s dating Mark now, in case y’all have forgotten,” I muttered, careful not to let my words carry more weight than necessary.
The table went quiet for a moment, the sound of Peter munching on a fry filling the gap. Then Jax shrugged.
“Yeah, and? We get it—he’s on the team and all. But that doesn’t mean you can’t be upfront. Harper’s not clueless about you, and neither are we. I’m pretty sure Mark knows too, deep down.”
Peter leaned forward, elbows on the table, lowering his voice with mock seriousness. “Look, timing’s perfect. Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve. After that, everyone’s gone on the weekend trip. If you ask her out tomorrow, you could—”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said, waving him off. “I get it. But I don’t need a pep talk from a table full of hockey jocks who think commitment is just a word in the dictionary.”
Kane snorted. “Just because we don’t play the field like you used to, doesn’t mean we can’t give advice. Mark and Harper’s relationship is still fresh. You know this. You should step up—save Mark the heartbreak of realizing too late that his girlfriend's heart is with another guy, and save yourself the regret of not being honest with Harper.”
I let my eyes wander to the window, watching the snow fall in lazy spirals against the dark night sky. My chest tightened, pulse ticking up in ways I didn’t like. It was almost laughable how obvious it was, how impossible it felt to hide the storm inside me.
I kept my jaw tight, trying to drown out their voices with the sound of my own heartbeat. I wasn’t some clueless teenager fumbling in the dark—I knew what was at stake. But the fear of screwing it up, of being too blunt or too late, made the edges of my confidence wobble.
Peter leaned back, tone softening just a fraction. “Ty, seriously… you’re overthinking it. You know what’s going on here. Stop hiding behind sarcasm and fries. You like her. Everyone knows it. And she—well, she’s waiting for someone like you to show her the truth.”
I swallowed, keeping my expression neutral. “Yeah. Well… showing people truths isn’t exactly my specialty.”
Jax snorted, nudging my arm lightly. “And yet, you’ve got the whole school thinking you can charm anyone. Funny how that charm disappears when the one girl who actually matters is involved.”
I shot him a look, half amusement, half warning. “Careful. You might actually make me say something I don’t want to.”
Peter laughed, shaking his head. “We’re just saying, don’t wait. Christmas Eve, no distractions, snow falling, all dramatic-like—it’s perfect. Don’t chicken out. Harper’s no longer a bet, bro. You said so yourself. She’s not some conquest to score points on. She’s the real deal. And I swear, if you blow this… you’ll regret it.”
I let out a short, humorless chuckle, letting my fingers tap the table as if I could drum away the knot in my chest. “Yeah, yeah. Got it. Thanks for the coaching session, gentlemen. Now can we move away from this fucking topic?”
The rest of the meal passed with the usual banter, half teasing, half pointed advice. I laughed here and there, nodded along, but my mind kept drifting to her—the thought of Harper leaning against the gym door, waiting, the thought of her eyes, of how real this was about to get.
By the time we left, snow coated the streets, pale light reflecting off icy patches. I barely heard the boys arguing over who’d pay the tab. My pulse raced, thoughts running in circles, and for the first time in a while, I actually let their words sit heavy, gnawing at the edges of my mind.
When we pulled up to my house, Peter finally went serious. “Tyler,” he said, voice low, “look, I know you’ve got walls. And you’ve got every right to protect yourself. But if you don’t do this… it’s just going to eat you up. You know it.”
I nodded, staring at the driveway, resisting the urge to argue or become defensive.
Peter sighed. “When you go in… call her. Set a date. You don’t have to do anything fancy. Just… be honest.”
I glanced at him, and for a second, I saw the rare, unguarded look he gave me when he meant what he said. He wasn’t joking. Not for once.
Inside, the house smelled of pine, baked goods, and Christmas anticipation. My mom was putting the last touches on the tree when she noticed me.
“Are you inviting Harper over for Christmas?” she asked casually.
I stiffened. “Well… Coach has us on mandatory training on Christmas morning,” I said quickly, keeping it light. “So… probably just Christmas Eve, I guess?”
Jacob’s eyes lit up. “Who’s Harper? Is she your new girlfriend?”
I almost choked on my saliva. Why the hell was that his first thought? Mom laughed, returning her attention to the Christmas tree. “Soon. Hopefully.”
I arched a brow. What the hell?
Peter elbowed me gently, nodding toward Mom—a subtle way of saying, ‘see? Even your family supports the idea.’
I shot him a glare, then turned to Jacob. “Harper’s my temporary therapist. For the love of God, don’t say things like that when she comes over. I’m going to bed now, ma. Goodnight.”
I slipped away to my room, phone in hand, unsure if I had the nerve to follow through. The guys’ conversation replayed in my head, reminding me why this mattered. I’d rather Harper hear it from me—and reject me—than have one of the guys blab about my feelings and make things a hundred times more awkward.
My fingers hovered over the screen before I finally typed:
“Hey. Are you coming for the session tomorrow? We need to talk.”
Her reply was almost instantaneous:
“Yeah, it’s every day, remember?”
I exhaled, a mixture of relief and dread.
“Cool. Looking forward to it.”
My chest tightened. Tomorrow would be… different. A new cycle—probably. A chance to reset. A chance to face what I’d been hiding.
Then another text came in, breaking me out of my thoughts:
“I’m right outside. We don’t have to wait until tomorrow. I want to talk to you now.”
My pulse spiked. Shit. Things were about to get real—sooner than I’d expected. And damn if that didn’t scare the hell out of me.