Chapter 82 TYLER
“Boys, are you ready?” Mom called before barging into my room without knocking.
I didn’t bother moving from my perch on the bed, still dressed only in drawls. Peter, on the other hand, was already dressed in a bright red Christmas sweater with the sky-blue collar of his dress shirt peeking out from the round neck. The hem was neatly tucked into his pressed pants, giving him that impossibly put-together look parents always seemed to love.
Mom’s approving gaze lingered on him, lips tugging into a smile, but froze halfway when she noticed I was still lying in bed, undressed.
“Tyler—” she started, her voice already taking on that scolding tone she could never quite hide.
“Don’t worry, Mama Rose, I got this. Just give us ten minutes,” Peter cut in, flashing that million-dollar smile. He gently ushered Mom out of the room and locked the door behind him.
“I’m not going,” I muttered before he could start his pep talk.
He snorted. “Not like that, you’re not.”
In three strides, he crossed the room and snatched my phone from my hand. I glanced at him with a bored expression, turning onto my side carefully, mindful of my shoulder.
“Tyler, don’t give the Grinch a run for his money. It’s Christmas Eve. Come on, don’t be like this,” he urged, tugging gently at my arm as he tried to pull me out of bed.
I let him move me to the ground but then locked myself in place so he couldn’t lift me further.
“Tylerrr,” he grunted, struggling to pull me upright. “This is an every-year tradition. What’s your excuse now? What do you plan on telling Mark for not showing up to his mom’s Christmas dinner?”
I knew he was right. I had to agree eventually because skipping this would turn into a bigger deal than I wanted. As a team, Mom always hosted Christmas dinner and invited everyone. This year, the Lockwoods were hosting. I didn’t mind putting on a few smiles, but the high chance that Harper would be there made me resist, and everyone knew it—except they weren’t letting me off the hook.
“Harper’s your friend, and Mark is too. Friendship comes first. Just because things aren’t going your way doesn’t mean you can’t be happy for them,” Peter continued. I hated how reasonable he was being.
“I’m happy for them,” I muttered, still face down. “But I just don’t want to deal with the embarrassment. You literally told me to confess—this is all your fault.”
“I told you to confess your feelings, but I didn’t promise it would work out. Besides, if you really care about Harper, shouldn’t her happiness be enough?”
His words hit me like a slap. Memories of Harper’s teary eyes, trembling hands, and the times she ran from me because of my cruelty flashed across my mind. He was right. If there was a chance to see her genuinely happy, there was no way I was missing it.
By the time we arrived at the Lockwoods, it was already 8 p.m. Their house wasn’t as massive as ours, so finding a parking spot proved tricky until Dad finally found one two blocks away.
As we stepped out of the car, Mom immediately came to straighten my plain black dress shirt. I hadn’t bothered overthinking my outfit—just a button-up, black tailored trousers, and white sneakers. Peter had tried convincing me to wear a holiday sweater like him to add some color, but after repeated refusals, he settled on accessorizing me with a simple silver chain.
I took a step back to avoid Mom’s excessive attention, but Dad swooped in and guided her away gently by the waist. Jacob followed, leaving Peter and me to hang back.
“Remember,” Peter whispered, turning to me, “we’re here for our friends. As long as Harper’s happy, that’s all that matters. Got it?”
I rolled my eyes and began walking ahead. The Christmas carols vibrated through the speakers, bass pounding in my chest as we neared the house. Peter paused to greet some parents, throwing in a compliment or asking about our friends’ whereabouts. I nodded politely, stalling until he finished.
Once we entered, my eyes immediately found her. Harper was on the couch beside Mark, laughing and chatting with Megan, two girls I assumed were Megan’s friends, and Jax, Billy, and David. My gaze lowered as Mark’s hand rested on her waist. Even without noticing me, he pulled her onto his lap, and she wrapped an arm around his neck perfectly.
“Tyler,” Peter snapped, waving a hand in front of my face. I kept a placid expression and focused on him. “No staring. Blend in.”
“I wasn’t staring,” I muttered, shoving my hand into my pocket and walking toward the kitchen where I wouldn't have to see them.
“You’re not seriously planning to hide all evening, are you?” Peter asked, following.
“What do you want from me? You said to come, I’m here. I didn’t agree to interact. Go have fun—I don’t need a babysitter.”
He sighed, rubbing his temples. “I’m not leaving you like this. Maybe we’ll find some alcohol and have our own little bro bonding session.”
I didn’t argue.
As expected, the kitchen wasn’t empty. Mrs. Lockwood, her husband, my parents, and Peter’s mom stood around, catching up. We tried to leave unnoticed, but they spotted us.
“Aww, how’s the shoulder, sweetie?” Mrs. Lockwood cooed, pulling me into a bear hug.
“Getting better,” I forced a smile, her overpowering perfume making it hard to breathe. The woman always had to be flashy, fishing for attention. My parents had counseled her a few times.
“Hope you’re having fun?” Peter’s mom asked, sipping from her glass. “What were you two looking for in the kitchen anyway?”
“Nothing,” Peter said quickly. “Just checking if we could find some of our friends. Right, Tyler?”
I nodded, shaking my head. “Yeah. Nice party, by the way.”
“It’s supposed to be a Christmas dinner, but whatever,” Mr. Lockwood muttered, shrugging. Mrs. Lockwood shot him a glare.
The room fell silent, a quiet conversation passing between the two of them, while the rest of us watched skeptically.
“I think we could use some dancing music,” Mom suddenly said. I bristled, knowing what was coming.
She brushed past me, winking, and walked toward the DJ booth.
“Let’s run before she turns us into entertainers,” Peter muttered, already moving. I followed, then froze.
Harper was heading toward the kitchen, eyes on her phone.
“Tyler,” Peter hissed. Too late.
Her frame stiffened as she looked up. I forced a smile, trying not to make things awkward, but words refused to form. She glanced back toward where Mark was still obliviously chatting with the others.
“Hey, Harper,” Peter called, saving me from further embarrassment.
“Hey,” she replied with a small wave, eyes downcast. “Didn’t know you guys would be here.”
“Oh, Mark probably forgot to mention,” Peter said, subtly nudging me.
I wanted to speak. The words were there, stacked behind my teeth, but my chest tightened instead.
Harper looked… different. Not in any loud, trying-too-hard way. Just quietly devastating. The soft curls she’d let loose framed her face like they belonged there, catching the warm glow of the lights. The mini skirt and boots shouldn’t have mattered, but they did. Everything about her did. The way she stood, half-turned toward me, like she wasn’t sure whether to stay or leave. The faint crease between her brows. The smile she wore that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
I’d seen her a hundred times before—in classrooms, hallways, therapy sessions—but this version of her felt dangerously close. Like something I’d lost before I ever got the chance to hold on.
And God help me, knowing she belonged to someone else hurt more than I was willing to admit. She still had a way of undoing me without even trying.
A sudden high-pitched screech from the mic made me snap out of the moment, raising a hand to my ear. Mom’s voice carried over the speakers.
“Sorry, my bad,” she apologized, waving. “Anyway, what’s Christmas Eve without a bit of dancing? Everyone, grab a partner!”
She gestured to the DJ, and the music shifted to Justin Bieber’s Mistletoe, filling the room with instant Christmas cheer. Conversations softened, laughter rose, and couples began drifting toward the center of the living room like it was second nature.
“Love this song,” Peter said, clapping his hands once as if shaking off the mood. “Catch you guys later. I’ve got to show off my moves.”
Harper laughed.
It was quiet, unguarded—nothing like the polite smiles she’d been giving all evening. The sound settled somewhere deep in my chest and loosened something I hadn’t realized I’d been holding tight.
Before I could talk myself out of it, I stepped forward. “Would you mind this dance?” I asked, extending my hand.
For a split second, the world narrowed to just us.
Her body went still, like I’d caught her off balance. She glanced at my hand, then at my face, uncertainty flickering across her features, as if she were weighing a choice she didn’t want to make.
I thought—just maybe—she might take it.
But Mark stepped between us. “Sorry, Cap. This one’s mine,” he said easily, already reaching for her. “Merry Christmas.”
Harper didn’t look at me as she took his hand.
I let my arm fall back to my side, my fingers curling slowly as if they’d forgotten what they were reaching for.
“She’s happy,” I muttered under my breath, forcing the words to mean something as I watched her melt into him, her hands sliding around his neck, his settling firmly at her waist.
The room kept moving. The music swelled.
Then her eyes lifted.
Just for a heartbeat, they met mine—sadness tucked beneath the surface, quiet and unmistakable. And that fleeting look undid everything I’d been trying to convince myself of.
Before I could stop myself, I found myself moving.