The streetlight buzzes overhead as I sit in my truck, engine ticking, my hand frozen on the door handle.
I could walk up there right now.
I could knock.
She’d answer the door, she’d see me, and I could finally ask the question clawing through my chest like a wild animal.
But instead, I stay in the truck, my forehead pressed to the steering wheel, breathing hard and trying to calm the ache in my chest.
Because I’m a coward.
Because I’m still that twenty-two-year-old kid who watched the girl he loved walk away.
And suddenly I’m right back there.
The window isopen in my dorm room, warm air drifting in with the smell of cut grass and the hum of students celebrating the end of finals across campus.
It should feel like a good night. A hopeful night.
Instead, Harper is standing in front of me holding a half-zipped duffel bag, her shoulders tense, her expression carved out of something that looks like heartbreak wearing determination’s mask.
She won’t look at me.
That’s the first sign everything is about to go to hell.
“Harper…” I say softly. “You’re scaring me. What’s going on?”
She swallows, jaw tightening like she’s bracing for impact.“I can’t stay, H.”
That nickname.
The one only she ever used.
It hits like a punch because it sounds like goodbye.
I step toward her, but she backs up a single inch, enough to gut me from the inside out.
“What do you mean you can’t stay?” My chest feels too tight. “We’ve got the whole summer. You’re supposed to come with me to the lake house after graduation, remember?”
Her eyes flick shut, pain flashing across her face before she forces it away.
“This summer is already spoken for.” She reaches for something on my desk—the folded letter I’ve been carrying around like a passport to the rest of my life.
The NHL Draft Combine Invite.
“You leave for Buffalo in three weeks,” she says quietly. “You’re about to get drafted. Everything you’ve worked for since you were a kid is happening, H.” Tears dripping down her sweet cheeks. “I can’t be the reason you stay behind or second-guess anything. I won’t do that to you.”
“Stay behind?” I step closer. “Babe, I’d go anywhere with you. I…I don’t give a shit about the draft. I can play hockey anywhere…anytime.”
“That’s exactly why I can’t stay.” She presses her hand over her eyes, trying to swallow back tears but failing miserably. “I don’t want to be the thing that clips your wings before you even take off. Hockey is your dream, H. And you deserve everything you can gain from the draft. A whole new life. A better life. A happy life.”
“Jesus, Harper.” My voice breaks. “You’re not clipping anything. I want you in my life. You are my happy life. You are my better life. I want it all with you.”
“You want me now,” she whispers. “But what happens if I get a job far away from you? What happens if I can’t follow you long-distance? Different states? Different coasts? Competing schedules? You’ll resent me. Or I’ll resent you. Or we’ll break later when it hurts even worse.”
She shakes her head adamantly, like she’s reminding herself of a decision she has already made. “I’d rather it be now,” she says, voice trembling. “Before you become someone everyone wants a piece of. Before I get left behind anyway.”
Left behind.
