25
Harper
I lean back in my office chair and review the final checklist for the season awards gala. Two days away, and every detail needs to be perfect. This isn't just another event. It's my farewell to the Renegades, my final chance to prove that Harper Hayes earned her place here through talent, not connections.
The last two weeks have been a whirlwind of damage control. Five clients canceled in the immediate aftermath of the photo scandal, but I've fought tooth and nail to keep the rest. Phone calls, meetings, and presentations proving my worth.
It's been exhausting, but it's been worth it. Hayes & Company is still standing.
My phone buzzes with Ariel's name on the screen.
“Hey, how's the final prep going?” she asks after we exchange pleasantries.
“Stressful but manageable. The florals arrive tomorrow, catering is confirmed, and the sound system tests are scheduled for tomorrow afternoon.”
“Sounds like you have everything under control.” There's a pause. “Did you call Cole to congratulate him on making the playoffs?”
My stomach clenches. “No.”
“Harper, come on, even if you refused to go to the game, you should have at least called the man.”
“I was at the game, actually,” I interrupt, the words tumbling out. “Brett was there too, but neither of them knew I was there. I couldn't miss it, Ariel. I tried to stay away, but I had to see him play.”
“And?”
“He was incredible. Absolutely incredible. The comeback in the third period, the way he led the team...” My voice trails off, the memory of watching him score the winning goal still vivid. “He looked so happy when they won.”
“Maybe it's time to talk to him,” Ariel says gently.
“No, I can't. It's too complicated.”
“Harper, you've been miserable since you two broke up two weeks ago. Don't try to deny it.”
I start to protest, then stop. “Fine. You're right. It's been awful.”
“I know,” Ariel says, sympathy in her voice. “So why aren't you doing anything about it?”
“I've tried to keep myself busy with work, and God knows there's been plenty to do, but it's not enough. I can't escape thoughts of him.” I rub my temples. “I live and breathe him. Am I pathetic or what?”
“No, you're just in love.”
“I'm scared, Ariel.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing my independence. I've worked so hard to build this life, this career. What if I get lost in him again? What if I become someone who defines herself through a relationship?”
“You can have both,” Ariel insists. “Love doesn't mean giving up who you are.”
I sigh. “I've seen what happens when women lose themselves in relationships. My independence has been my shield for so long, I don't know how to be vulnerable without losing myself.”
“Maybe that's the problem,” Ariel says quietly. “You're using independence as a shield against vulnerability. Accepting love doesn't diminish your achievements, Harper.”
She's right. I have been using independence as armor, afraid that loving someone fully would somehow make me less than I am.
But the realization comes too late. Cole has moved on, focused entirely on the playoffs. Even if I wanted to reach out, he's probably too busy to care about what we had.
“I have to go,” I tell Ariel. “Final preparations. Think about what I said, okay?”
