“Thanks, H.”
He looks at me then—really looks—his eyes burning into mine with such intensity that my breath catches. The noise of the restaurant fades away.
“What is it?”
“Can I admit something?” he asks, voice dropping to a near-whisper.
“Of course.”
He leans forward, elbows on the table, knuckles white as he grips his own hands. The muscle in his jaw twitches. My heart hammers against my ribs.
“I rewrote my text to you about lunch seventeen times since 4 AM,” he confesses, each word deliberate and raw. “I wanted this—needed this—but God, Harper, I was terrified you’d say no.”
Oh.
Oh.
The air shifts and suddenly it’s warm in here, like someone’s cranked the thermostat ten degrees. My skin prickles with awareness.
“Harrison…” I start, but he shakes his head gently, his darkening blue eyes never leaving mine.
“I just—” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in a way that makes my mouth go dry. “I like being around you. And I guess I had forgotten that feeling after all these years. That’s all.”
I don’t know what to do with the sweetness blooming in my chest, so I take a sip of water I don’t need, ice clinking against my lips. “You make it sound like I’m doing you a favor,” I tease, my voice coming out huskier than I intended.
“I guess you kind of are.” He shrugs and his smile turns so soft it’s almost dangerous. His knee shifts under the table, pressing against mine. “You’d be doing me an even bigger one if you and Connor came to our game tomorrow. I have a few tickets saved right at the glass if you’d want to, you know, come and be my good luck charm.”
Heat surges through me like a flash fire, starting in my chest and radiating outward until my fingertips tingle. His eyes—those impossibly blue eyes that once made me forget my own name—hold mine with such raw hope that I can barely breathe. The air between us practically crackles.
“I like it,” I say slowly, deliberately holding his gaze, “when you want something from me.”
His pulse jumps at his throat. I see it. He knows I see it. If it’s possible, the air between us thickens even more, charged with ten years of what-ifs. I remain quiet, giving him space, but I can’t help but notice how his ankle stays locked with mine under the table, warm and solid. Like I’m steadying him.
In reality, it’s him steadying me.
When the server comes to take our order, neither of us pulls away.
“So, tell me about the start of the season. From what I’m hearing you guys have the opportunity to go all the way this year.”
He nods, smiling softly, like he doesn’t know he plays for one the best hockey teams in the league.
“Honestly, the start of the season feels promising.” He forces his eyes away from mine down to the table. “The team chemistry is good. Solid. Everyone’s got their strengths, and honestly, everyone’s been working harder than I expected this year. Though, I say we’ve got the talent and some of them are more like toddlers than professional athletes.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes playfully. “I swear I’ve spent half my life telling the guys not to slap each other with wet towels or steal each other’s underwear.”
I laugh. “Sounds familiar.” I wink at Harrison when he lifts his gaze, and he grins, obviously remembering so many of the ridiculous immature behaviors that went on in the locker room when he was younger. He used to tell me about them all the time. “But the team seems…fun. I get the sense from watching you all together that you have each other’s backs.”
Harrison leans back a little, his smile not quite reaching his eyes. “We do. More than I probably deserve sometimes.” His fingers drum against the table, a nervous rhythm. “It’s just—” He stops, jaw tightening. “We look out for each other because we’ve all been in each other’s shoes. The job, relationships…things we’ve lost.”
My smile falters as my stomach knots itself. I grip my water glass too tightly, caught between wanting to reach for his hand and needing to maintain distance. “Your team really seems like family,” I manage.
“Yeah,” he says quietly, then meets my eyes with an intensity that makes me want to look away. “But I spend a lot of time thinking about the family I didn’t know I had until now.” His voice breaks on the wordfamily.
My chest flips.
Did he really just say that?
He meets my gaze, his eyes soft. Not angry just…honest.
I open my mouth to respond, and at the exact same moment, our server drops a basket of fries in the center of the table. One particularly large fry tilts precariously. We both reach for it at the same time.
