Page 222 of On the Breakaway

“Nothing,” I blurt out, while Grayson keels over laughing.

“Gross.” Sloane scrunches her face. “I’m not sure I can stomach you two together.”

“Sounds like you’re jealous that you’re the only single one.” Grayson reaches out and messes up her hair, the way only a brother would be able to get away with.

Sloane and my eyes both dart to Harper before we correct ourselves. Harper’s face tightens, and she sighs dramatically.

“I’m getting divorced.” She picks up a drink and chugs it. “So, Sloane is not the only single one. There I said it.”

My heart stutters because I’ve never heard Harper be so blunt, and I can’t stop the stab of guilt for outing her accidentally.

“I’m sorry…” I start, but stop when someone snorts.

I turn to find Wyatt on the other side of Grayson, rolling his eyes.

“Something to say, Wyatt?” Harper asks, voice harder than it ever is.

“Why are we all acting surprised? He left you at a party at my house, and then you drunkenly proclaimed that you loved my dog more than him.”

I reach out and smack his arm, but he just brushes me off, watching Harper.

She looks close to tears as she hunches over. I tell myself that the Blades don’t really need a goalie anyway. It’s okay to kill him.

Then her laughter rings out, and I realize she’s laughing. She’s halfway hysterical, slumped over, unable to speak through the gasping breaths she’s taking. Wyatt’s lips twitch into the closest thing resembling a smile that I’ve ever seen on his face.

I would usually join in, except that nothing about her behavior is normal. Wesley and I make eye contact over her.

“Harp? Are you okay?” I ask.

“Yes.” She gasps again. “No.” She stands up, wiping a tear from her eye. “I don’t know. I will be.”

Luckily, the TV starts playing reruns of the Blades in New York for game seven, and the guys get distracted again, shifting the topic to the impending series.

I still catch myself watching Harper out of the corner of my eye.

“You okay?” Grayson asks quietly.

“I’m just worried about her.” I thread both of my hands through his, turning to face him fully.

“She’ll be okay. She has you all looking out for her.”

I smile, leaning in to hug him again. He was at my apartment this morning, and I kissed him goodbye less than twelve hours ago, but I missed him.

The chatter about the game gets louder, the guys yelling about Denver's lineup heading into the final fight for the Cup.

“You used to hug me first, you know.” Liam walks over, wrapping an arm around my shoulder.

“You poor thing,” I click my tongue against my teeth and drape a hand on his cheek sympathetically.

He points accusingly at Grayson. “Do you know how long it took me to be her favorite? Then you swoop in, and I’m replaced.”

“You were never the favorite,” Wyatt says flatly as we all slide into the booth.

“I absolutely was.”

“You were simply the least annoying.”

“Same thing.”