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FORD

“ I ’m looking forward to much needed R&R now that the season’s over,” Connor Byrns, left winger for the Green Mountain Avalanche hockey team, rolls his neck, working out the tension.

I follow him off the plane, shifting my weight as a sharp twinge shoots through my knee. “No kidding. I need recovery time.”

Connor’s gaze flicks to my leg, brow raised. “Still bothering you?”

I wave him off. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

He gives me a long, skeptical look. “Sure, Ford. Whatever you say.”

I ignore him. I’ve spent a decade forcing my body to keep up with the brutal pace of the game. A little pain won’t kill me.

“You staying with Gram Cracker?”

I smirk at the nickname he’s given my Gram. Just thinking about her old Victorian house nestled deep in the woods makes my shoulders loosen. There’s something about the place—the thick trees surrounding it, the private lake tucked behind it—that feels like a reset. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.”

“She’s gonna be on your ass about Carly.”

I shoot him an annoyed glance as we weave through the airport crowd toward baggage claim. “We weren’t that serious.”

“You and I know that. But Carly? And Gram Cracker?” He lets out a low chuckle. “That’s another story.”

I exhale sharply. He’s not wrong. Gram was convinced Carly was the one , which just proves how off she is when it comes to my love life.

“The good news,” I say, grabbing my duffel off the carousel, “is that Carly’s family sent her on a ‘broken-heart healing’ cruise. She’ll be gone for two months, so I won’t have to worry about her.”

“Yeah, but Gram’s gonna double down now. You’re twenty-nine. She wants great grandkids.”

I scowl. “Marriage and kids can wait. I’m in the prime of my career.”

Connor shakes his head. “Tell her that.”

Dread coils in my stomach. When Gram sets her mind on something, she’s relentless.

Then, like a ghost slipping through the cracks of my mind, she surfaces. Long, thick brunette hair. Big, soulful blue-gray eyes. The soft curve of her lips when she used to smile at me like I was her whole damn world.

Harper Adams.

My chest tightens. The last time I saw her, Todd Matthews had his arm around her.

Jealousy slammed into me like a freight train.

The kind that drowns out reason.

The kind that makes you see red.

I’d just been drafted into the NHL. Harper said we should “think about ending things” since we’d be two thousand miles apart.

But I couldn’t.

I’d been with her since our junior year of high school. Harper was more than my first love. She was the oxygen I breathed.

And then I saw Todd with her.

My brain short-circuited. Images of him stealing all the little things we’d built together sent me over the edge—our coffee shop, our table in the Italian restaurant we loved, the way I used to walk her across campus.

I lost it.

Lunging, I grabbed him by the shirt.

My fist smashed into his face before I could process what I’d done.

Harper screamed behind me. My hockey teammates had to rip me off him.

When the haze of rage finally lifted, I turned and saw her staring at me like she didn’t recognize me anymore.

That was the moment I knew I’d fucked up.

Coach pulled strings to keep me out of real trouble. I got a two-game suspension, which was nothing compared to what really happened.

Harper shut me out.

Two weeks later, she finally spoke to me. Told me it was best if we ended things.

I wanted to drop to my knees. Wrap my arms around her waist. Beg her for another chance.

But she told me we were done.

Just like that.

Connor nudges me, yanking me back to the present. “Yo, man. You still with me?”

I force myself to blink.

What had we been talking about?

Oh, right.

Gram and Carly.

I shrug. “I can handle her.”

Connor hums like he doesn’t believe me, then drops a bomb. “You know the Adams are selling their house, right?”

I freeze, my fingers clenching around the luggage handle.

“Yeah, I heard.” My voice is too even. Too neutral.

He smirks. “Heard Harper’s overseeing the renovations. Getting it ready to sell.”

A weight settles in my gut.

I school my face into something unreadable. “Had no idea.”

He snorts. “Yeah, right. Don’t lie to me.”

I glare at him. “Fine. I know all about it.”

Connor raises his brows. “Figured you did.”

I bristle, saying nothing.

He needles me. “Considering their place is right across the lake from your Gram’s, you're bound to run into her.”

Heat coils up my spine, mixing with something I don’t want to name.

Something I refuse to name.

I lift a shoulder. “Probably.”

Connor lets out a low whistle. “Man, you’re a terrible liar.”

Ignoring him, I step into the thick late spring air, sweat already forming at the back of my neck.

Or maybe that’s from the conversation.

He follows, grinning like a jackass. “She’s single, you know.”

“Who?” I play dumb, knowing that, too.

He stares at me like I’m a dumbass. “Harper.”

Her name is like darts being shot into my heart.

My jaw locks. “That’s nice.”

His laughter is smug as hell. “C’mon, Ford. Don’t play dumb. I knew you two in college. You had that lovesick puppy look in your eyes.” He pauses. “I know you’ve been following her on socials.”

I grip my luggage tighter. “I wasn’t a lovesick puppy.”

Connor chuckles. “Right.”

A black SUV pulls up along the curb. The Uber I ordered for us is here.

Just as I reach the door handle, he leans in, his voice low. “You still keep that old phone, don’t you?”

I know immediately what phone he’s referring to.

The one with pictures of her.

The last texts she ever sent me.

The last voicemail she ever sent me.

I go still.

His gaze flickers knowingly. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

I don’t answer.

Because he’s right.

For the past ten years, I’ve been telling everyone—including myself—that I got over Harper Adams a long time ago.

The truth?

I never fucking did.