Page 98 of Don't Puck His Best Friend
Harper fitting seamlessly into my family's rhythm, helping my mom in the garden while my dad grills burgers. The way my sister latches onto her like she's always wanted an older sibling who actually gets her. Coming home from work covered in sawdust and sweat to find Harper on the porch reading, and how she looks up and smiles like I'm the best thing she's seen all day.
We fall into a routine. I work construction with my dad from seven to four, learning the business from the ground up—literally. Harper gets a part-time job at the local bookstore, which is so perfectly her that I laugh when she tells me. Eveningsare ours. We cook dinner with my mom, take Rex on long walks through town, drive to the lake on weekends.
"This is nice," Harper says one night in mid-June. We're lying in the grass in my backyard, looking up at the stars. "Quiet."
"Boring?"
"Not even a little bit." She rolls onto her side to look at me. "I didn't think I'd like small-town life, but there's something peaceful about it."
"Wait until winter. Then you'll understand true boredom."
"I don't know. Might be nice. Snow, hot chocolate, staying inside all day..."
"You're romanticizing it."
"Maybe." She traces her finger along my jaw. "Or maybe anywhere feels good when I'm with you."
I pull her closer and kiss her, tasting summer and possibility. "You're getting sappy in your old age."
"I'm twenty-one."
"Ancient."
She laughs against my mouth, and the sound fills something in my chest I didn't know was empty.
In July, we take a trip to Harper's hometown so I can meet her parents properly. The drive is four hours, and Harper spends most of it giving me warnings.
"My dad is going to grill you about your intentions," she says.
"My intentions are pure."
"Right. That’s why you pull my hair?"
He reaches over and rubs my scalp. "Mostly pure."
"And my mom is going to ask a thousand questions about school and hockey and our future. Just... be prepared."
I reach over and take her hand. "They're going to love me."
"You're very confident."
"I'm easy to like."
She rolls her eyes, but she's smiling.
Her parents' house is smaller than mine, cozier. Her mom hugs me at the door while her dad sizes me up with the practiced eye of a father who's been waiting for this moment. We have dinner—Harper's mom makes this incredible pot roast—and her dad does indeed ask about my plans.
"So you're studying business?" he asks.
"Yes, sir. Business management with a focus on operations."
"And after graduation?"
"I'm hoping to get into sports management or work in operations for a hockey organization. But I'm keeping my options open." I glance at Harper, who's watching this exchange with barely concealed amusement. "I want to make sure I end up somewhere that makes sense for both of us."
Harper's mom perks up at that. "Both of you?"
"Mom," Harper warns.
