“You didn’t deserve any of that,” I say.
Harlow’s mouth twitches like she hates how obvious it is.
“I know,” she whispers.
Then, softer, “I know now.”
My chest swells with pride. That’s her ending to the story. Not that she got hurt, but that she survived long enough to learn she wasn’t the problem.
I swallow hard.
“Harlow,” I say quietly, “look at me.”
She does.
And the second her eyes meet mine, something in me goes steady.
“He doesn’t get to talk about you like that ever again,” I say. “Not because you need me to save you. You don’t. But because you’re not his to comment on.”
Harlow’s breath catches.
“And if anyone ever tries,” I add, voice low, “I will make sure it costs them.”
Her eyes shine, furious about it.
“You got yourself suspended,” she whispers.
I swallow. “I know.”
Harlow presses the ice to my cheek like she’s mad at it. “Gray?—”
“It’s okay,” I cut in gently.
She stares at me, jaw tight. “I didn’t want that.”
“I didn’t do it because you wanted it,” I say. “I did it because I heard him say those things about you, and my body just moved.”
Harlow’s throat bobs.
Her voice is small. “That scares me.”
I nod once, because it should.
“Me too,” I admit.
Harlow’s eyes flick to my mouth for half a second, then back up.
“I don’t want you to ruin your life because of me,” she whispers.
My chest tightens. I lean forward slightly, careful not to crowd, and keep my voice steady.
“You couldn’t ruin my life even if you tried,” I say. “You’re not a cost. You’re not a consequence.”
Harlow swallows hard.
And then, like it breaks out of her without permission, she says, “You’re going to miss a couple games.”
I nod once. “Most likely.”
