Page 88 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
"Definitely." I set her down but keep my arms around her waist. "You planning on coming to all my games now?"
"If you want me there."
"I want you everywhere," I say, and I mean it more than she probably realizes.
The next few weeks blur together in the best way. Harper and I develop routines—coffee on Tuesday mornings between her classes, film study sessions where she pretends to understand hockey strategy while mostly just distracting me, lazy Sunday mornings in bed with Rex sprawled across our legs.
I show up to one of her presentations, sitting in the back of the lecture hall while she delivers her marketing pitch with the same confidence she brings to everything else. Watching her command a room, seeing the way her mind works through complex problems, I'm reminded that she's not just beautiful—she's brilliant.
"You didn't have to come," she says afterward, but her smile tells me she's glad I did.
"I wanted to. You killed it up there."
"I stumbled over the Q3 projections."
"No one noticed."
"You noticed."
"Barely. You did great."
She loops her arm through mine as we walk across campus. "Thank you for being here. It means a lot."
"Where else would I be?"
It's moments like this—small, quiet, unremarkable to anyone else—that make me realize how deep I'm in. Harper has become the person I want to share everything with. Good news, bad news, boring details about my day. All of it.
Game night happens again, this time at Sirus and Marcus's place. It's a bigger crowd than usual—more teammates, more girlfriends, the energy chaotic and loud. Harper navigates it all like she's been part of this group for years instead of weeks.
I'm in the kitchen grabbing beers when I look back into the living room and see something that makes my chest tighten. Liam has just arrived, and Harper is standing near the door with Maddie. For a split second, their eyes meet across the room.
I watch it happen in slow motion. The way Harper's smile falters, just barely. The way Liam's expression shifts from carefully neutral to something rawer. There's recognition there, history, a connection that existed before I came into the picture.
Then Harper deliberately looks away, turning her attention to Maddie and saying something that makes her cousin laugh. Liam stands there for another second before heading toward the opposite side of the room, putting as much distance between them as possible.
The interaction lasts maybe five seconds, but it leaves me unsettled.
"Hey." Sirus grips my shoulder. "Don't let old ghosts mess with your head."
He's right. I know he's right. But there's a difference between knowing something intellectually and feeling it in your gut.
I head back into the living room and find Harper. She lights up when she sees me, reaching for my hand and pulling me down beside her on the couch. "There you are. I thought you got lost."
"Just grabbing drinks. You good?"
"Perfect," she says, and the way she looks at me leaves no room for doubt.
Across the room, Liam is talking to Tommy, deliberately not looking our way. His jaw is tight, shoulders tense, and I recognize the signs of someone holding themselves together through sheer force of will.
Harper leans into my side, her hand resting on my thigh, and I force myself to focus on her instead of analyzing every micro-expression on Liam's face.
"Want to get out of here early?" she murmurs near my ear. "We could go back to your place, just us."
"Rex would be thrilled."
"Rex is always invited."
I kiss her forehead. "Let's finish this game, then we'll head out."
