Chapter 144: Happy moments

"Oh, my goodness," Mom whispered, her voice trembling slightly. She reached across the cushion, wrapping her hand tightly around mine and squeezing with so much pride it made my throat ache. "Harper... oh, sweetie. I am so, so happy for you."

"Me too, Mom."

"And what did Justin do while all of this was happening?" Emma asked with a wry smile.

I chuckled, picturing him leaning casually against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his broad chest. "He just stood back, looking exceptionally pleased with himself."

Emma snorted loudly. "Typical Justin."

"Exactly." I leaned my head back against the couch cushions, closing my eyes for a brief second. "I still can’t fully grasp that he set all of that up for me."

Mom smiled softly, rubbing her thumb over the back of my hand. "That boy loves you deeply, Harper."

I lowered my eyes to my lap, a quiet, uncontrollable smile tugging at my lips as a wave of profound warmth washed over me. "I know."

The words came out lower and softer than I had intended, heavy with a certainty that reached straight down to my bones.

Emma caught the shift in my tone immediately. "Oh."

I looked up at her. "What?"

A slow, mischievous grin spread across her face. "Nothing."

"Emma."

"I said nothing!"

I rolled my eyes, though my cheeks were burning red.

Mom stood up from the couch, smoothing down her shirt. "Okay, enough interrogation for now. Harper, go upstairs, unpack, and change into something comfortable. You must be completely exhausted after that drive."

"Honestly, Mom, I’m fine—"

"You’ve been driving for hours after an intense weekend. Go, chop-chop."

I laughed, pushing myself up from the cushions. "Okay, okay. I’m going."

I picked up my canvas bag from the floor, but before I could take two steps toward the stairs, Mom stopped me.

"Wait a second. What did he give you?"

I turned back around, blinking. "Oh!"

I had almost forgotten in all the excitement. I unzipped the side pocket of my bag and carefully pulled out the small, beautifully wrapped packages Justin had insisted on stuffing into my luggage before we left the cabin.

My siblings and Emma instantly swarmed back around me.

"Let me see!" Emma demanded, craning her neck.

One by one, I unwrapped the gifts, laying them out on the kitchen island. I explained the story behind every single item—the vintage film journal he’d tracked down, the rare hardcover art book from the mansion’s private collection, the tiny customized silver bookmark engraved with my initials. I walked them through why Justin had chosen each piece, pointing out the subtle inside jokes and quiet references he had woven into them.

Mom watched the entire display with a quiet, glowing expression. "He really, truly pays attention to you, doesn’t he?"

I looked down at the engraved bookmark sitting snugly in the palm of my hand, my heart swelling until it felt like it might burst right out of my ribs.

"Yeah," I whispered. "He really does."

After ten more minutes of answering their eager questions, Emma snatched my wrist. "Alright, that’s enough group show-and-tell. Upstairs. Now."

"What?" I laughed as she yanked me toward the staircase. "Emma, what are you doing?"

"I need details," she said firmly, dragging me up the steps two at a time.

"Details about what?!"

She turned on the landing and gave me a deadpan, deliberate look. "You know exactly what, Harper."

"Emma!" I groaned, but she just burst out laughing, pulling me down the hallway.

Once we reached my bedroom, she pushed the door open, grabbed my arm, and we both collapsed backward onto the soft mattress, staring up at the familiar ceiling.

For a few long seconds, neither of us said a word. The quiet hum of the house drifted up from downstairs.

Then Emma turned her head on the pillow, looking sideways at me. "So?"

I kept my gaze fixed on the ceiling, trying to play dumb. "So... what?"

She nudged her shoulder sharply against mine. "Don’t play stupid with me, Harper. How was the rest of the trip? How are you two?"

I instantly covered my face with both hands, groaning softly into my palms. "Oh my god."

Emma immediately started cackling, sitting up on her elbow. "You’re blushing! Look at you, you’re practically glowing!"

"I am not blushing!" I protested, my voice muffled by my hands.

"You so are! Your entire neck is pink!"

I grabbed my pillow and slammed it over my face to hide. Emma yanked it away with a triumphant grin.

"Tell me!" she demanded softly, her eyes full of genuine affection. "Come on."

I finally dropped my hands to my chest, letting out a long, slow breath as the playful teasing faded into something quiet and sweet.

"It was wonderful, Em," I admitted softly, looking at her. "Really, truly wonderful."

Emma’s wild smile softened into a tender expression. "Yeah?"

I nodded slowly, staring down at my fingers as I laced them together. "It was more than I ever expected. We talked so much over those two days. About everything. About his hockey, about my film career, about us... about our future. About how terrified and excited we both are."

My voice dropped, dipping into a quiet, reverent tone. "And I think... I think I finally understand him now. The real him. Not the hockey star, not the golden boy. Just Justin."

Emma smiled gently, reaching over to squeeze my hand. "I’m so happy for you, Harps. Seriously."

I turned my head to face her fully on the mattress. "He’s been so good to me, Emma. So patient. So careful with my heart."

"I know he has."

"He makes me feel so ridiculously safe," I whispered, tears of pure happiness threatening to gather at the corners of my eyes. "He supports every single thing I want to do. He doesn’t make me feel like I ever have to choose between loving him and becoming who I’m meant to be."

Emma gave my hand one last firm squeeze. "You deserve a love like that, Harper. You always have."

I offered her a bright, watery smile. "I know."

I rolled back over, staring up at the familiar bedroom ceiling, a huge, radiant smile spreading across my face until my cheeks literally ached.

"God, I am so ridiculously happy."

Emma laughed softly, bumping her shoulder against mine. "Good. It’s about damn time."

We stayed like that for a long while, just lying side-by-side on my bed, talking in low, lazy voices about everything and nothing at all.

For the first time since we had packed up the truck this morning, the suffocating anxiety about development camp faded into the background. The looming draft, the distance, the unknown roster cuts, the terrifying quiet of the days ahead—none of it could touch me right here.

I was home. I had my family surrounding me. I had my wildest dreams within arm’s reach.

And somehow, miraculously, I had Justin holding my heart across the miles.

For once in my life, as the afternoon sun warmed the wooden floorboards of my room, everything felt completely, undeniably right.