Chapter 78 HARPER
Having breakfast at the Mercers’ house was not how I’d imagined the night would end.
When I’d taken a cab through the snow to Tyler’s place, I’d been running on adrenaline, guilt, and a very poorly thought-out plan to confess just enough truth to free myself from it. I’d expected a short, painful conversation. Maybe closure. Maybe distance. What I hadn’t expected was waking up under the same roof as him, sitting at his family’s breakfast table, trying to act like we hadn’t almost crossed a line that would’ve changed everything.
And yet, here I was.
The dining room was warm and softly lit, sunlight filtering through the tall windows and reflecting off the polished wooden table. The smell of oats, cinnamon, and toasted bread hung in the air, comforting in a way that made my chest ache. It felt too domestic, too intimate, like I’d accidentally wandered into a version of life I wasn’t supposed to want.
The tension, however, sat heavy beneath it all.
Mrs. Mercer moved around the dining room with an almost aggressive cheerfulness, placing bowls and refilling cups like nothing unusual had happened the night before. Mr. Mercer sat at the head of the table, calm and observant, the kind of quiet presence that made you feel like he noticed everything even when he said nothing.
The only person completely at ease was Jacob.
Tyler’s younger brother was seated across from me, animated and bright-eyed, completely unaware—or uncaring—about the awkwardness clinging to the room.
“And then the fire alarm went off at, like, three in the morning,” Jacob was saying enthusiastically, spoon gesturing midair. “Turns out someone tried to microwave noodles without water. The entire dorm had to evacuate.”
“That’s what you get for trusting teenagers with appliances,” Peter muttered, shoveling oats into his mouth.
Jacob grinned. “Worth it. The chaos was legendary.”
I smiled faintly, nodding along, but my attention kept drifting sideways.
Tyler sat next to Jacob, shoulders tense, jaw tight. He hadn’t said much since we’d sat down. His gaze stayed glued to his bowl like it had personally offended him. Even now, in the warmth of the house, he looked like he was bracing himself against something unseen.
Against me.
The memory of the night before replayed uninvited. His hand at my waist. The heat of him. The way his lips had hovered just a breath away before they’d brushed mine—
I swallowed hard and focused on my food.
Mrs. Mercer stood, lifting the ceramic bowl at the center of the table. “Anyone want more oats?” she asked brightly.
“I do!” Jacob chirped, immediately holding out his bowl.
She moved toward him, scooping generously. “Growing boys,” she said fondly, then glanced around the table. “So,” she continued, tone light, “what would everyone like for dinner tonight? It’s Christmas Eve, and I’m feeling particularly festive.”
“Oh, someone’s in a good mood,” Peter teased, sliding his plate forward. “I’ll eat whatever you make. You know it’s always amazing.”
Jacob snorted. “Except the turkey roast last Thanksgiving.”
Mrs. Mercer gasped dramatically. “That was one time!”
“That turkey fought back,” Jacob deadpanned.
Mr. Mercer chuckled softly. “It was a difficult year for your mother. Give her a break.”
Laughter rippled around the table, easy and familiar. For a moment, it felt normal. Warm. Like how home used to feel back then.
Everyone laughed.
Everyone except for Tyler.
He still hadn’t lifted his gaze, shoulders rigid, lips pressed together. I stole a glance at him, really looked, and my chest tightened. His lashes cast shadows against his cheek, his mouth set in that familiar hard line I’d come to recognize as his armor.
I wondered if he regretted last night. Or worse, if he was angry at me for it.
“Harper?”
Mrs. Mercer’s voice cut through my thoughts.
I startled slightly, looking up. “Hmm?”
Her eyes flicked briefly toward Tyler, then back to me. I felt his gaze snap toward me then, sharp and intense, like he was bracing for impact.
“I was asking what you’d like for dinner tonight,” she said gently. “Your mom’s still away, and your dad—well. You’re coming over, right?”
The question landed heavier than it should have.
I forced a smile. “I’d love to,” I said, then hesitated. “But I think I’ll be spending dinner at the Lockwoods’.”
The clatter of metal against ceramic echoed through the room.
Tyler’s spoon slipped from his hand, hitting his bowl with a sharp sound. He didn’t move to pick it up. His eyes stayed fixed on the table, his jaw tightening so hard I thought it might crack.
The air shifted instantly.
Mrs. Mercer cleared her throat. “The Lockwoods’, huh?” she said carefully. “You’re going for Megan, right?”
I bit my lip. Part of me wanted to nod and let it go. Another part of me—the one already drowning in guilt—felt compelled to be honest.
“I… yeah,” I said slowly.
Peter leaned back slightly. “She’s seeing Mark,” he added, his voice carrying a bite. “Guess Harper’s going for both siblings.”
My heart sank.
I hadn’t meant to offend anyone. Least of all Peter.
Mrs. Mercer arched a brow, glancing at her husband. Mr. Mercer met her look briefly, then glanced at Tyler, who seemed to have found sudden fascination in the pattern of the tablecloth.
“I feel like there’s something I’m missing here,” Jacob said, spoon frozen halfway to his mouth. “Is Mark, like… a Karen? Someone we don’t like?”
I let out a small laugh despite myself. “No. Mark’s actually really nice. He’s the sweetest—”
“I think I’m done,” Tyler cut in abruptly.
His chair scraped loudly against the floor as he stood, the suddenness of it making everyone flinch. His posture was rigid, controlled to the point of breaking.
“I’ll be upstairs,” he added, not looking at anyone as he walked away.
The silence he left behind felt deafening.
Peter sighed, standing quickly. “Thanks for breakfast, Mama Rose. I’ll be back to do the dishes.”
He followed Tyler before I could say a word.
I sat there, hands folded in my lap, feeling like I’d detonated something I didn’t know how to fix.
“Well,” Jacob said cheerfully, breaking the tension, “that was awkward.”
“Zip it,” Mr. Mercer said calmly. “No talking while eating.”
I counted to five, then pushed my chair back. “I should probably start the sessions,” I said softly. “That way I can leave early for dinner. Thank you for breakfast, Rose. It was lovely.”
She smiled, then stepped closer, concern flickering across her face. “Harper, has Tyler—”
“—made any improvements?” Mr. Mercer cut in smoothly, shooting his wife a look.
She pursed her lips but stepped back.
“Yes,” I said, turning to him. “He’s made great progress. The shoulder’s healing well. My mom has already given him the go ahead to start light training.”
“Please,” he said gently, “call me David.”
I winced inwardly. First-name basis with parents always felt illegal.
“Sorry—David,” I corrected. “And yes. He’s doing really well.”
He nodded, satisfied. “Thank you. We appreciate everything you’ve done.”
I gave an awkward little curtsy before I could stop myself.
Mrs. Mercer laughed softly. Jacob snickered.
“If you’ll excuse me,” I said quickly, heat rising to my face as I turned and practically fled up the stairs.
I didn’t see Tyler coming.
One second I was rounding the corner. The next, a hand closed around my wrist, pulling me suddenly into a nearby room.
The door shut behind us.
My breath stuttered as my back hit the wall and Tyler loomed in front of me, his chest rising and falling, eyes dark with something fierce and feral.
“Tell me,” he said quietly, his hand sliding to my waist, deliberate but restrained. “Is Mark really the sweetest?”
My heart hammered.
“Or,” he continued, leaning in just enough that I could feel the heat of him, “did you say that just to piss me off?”