Page 102 of Almost Ours
“Smooth driving, Ryan,” she gasped, brushing snow out of her hair.
“Hey, you’re the one who was steering,” I shot back, grinning.
Neither of us moved right away. The snow was cold, but the warmth between us made it easy to forget. Her laughter was contagious, and for a moment, I forgot about everything except her.
Before I could think too much about how close we were, a blur of movement came barrelling toward us. Connor flew down the hill on his sled, shouting, “Incoming!”
Before either of us could react, he launched himself off his sled and landed on top of us in a pile of giggles and snow.
“Connor!” Harper shrieked, her laughter only getting louder as he squirmed his way between us.
“You guys looked too comfy,” he said, grinning mischievously. “Shane told me to come break it up!”
I ruffled his hair, laughing as I tried to sit up. “You’re lucky I don’t bury you in a pile of snow for that, kid.”
Harper reached over, pulling him into a hug despite the snow he was smushing into her coat. “You’re a menace,” she teased, her voice full of affection.
Connor beamed, his nose rosy from the cold. He leaned into both of us, a moment of pure joy passing between the three of us as we sat there in the snow. It was the kind of moment I’d never forget–the kind that felt so natural, so easy, it made me wonder how I’d lived so long without it.
“Wait, don’t move,” Harper said suddenly, reaching into her coat pocket and pulling out her phone. “We need to capture this.”
Connor grinned even wider, throwing an arm around each of us. “A snow selfie!”
Harper leaned in close, holding the phone up as we all squished together. The three of us were flushed and covered in snow, but we were all smiling so big it almost hurt.
“Okay, say… snow angels!” she called out.
“Snow angels!” Connor and I chorused, as Harper snapped the picture.
She glanced at the screen, her smile softening. “This one’s going on the fridge,” she said, her voice warm.
Connor peered over her shoulder. “Let me see! Oh yeah, we look awesome.”
Harper tilted the phone toward me, and my chest tightened as I took in the image. The three of us looked… happy. Really, truly happy. It was so simple, yet it hit me harder than I expected.
“Frame-worthy,” I said with a grin, brushing a bit of snow off Connor’s hat.
Harper tucked her phone away, glancing between us with a look I couldn’t quite place. But whatever it was, I hoped she felt it too–the magic of this moment, of us.
Later, Connor challenged Harper to a race, and she took it seriously, insisting that she was going to beat him fair and square. “No mercy,” she declared, and while she didn’t win, she gave him a run for his money.
The boys were relentless about building bigger and better jumps for their sleds, daring anyone brave enough to try them. Shane, never one to back down, took the ultimate challenge. The boys had crafted a jump so big I thought for sure he’d back out at the last second, but he didn’t.
When he hit the ramp, Shane flew a good six feet in the air before landing with a spectacular crash. He rolled off his sled and landed flat on his ass. Harper, Nina, and I all doubled over, laughing so hard we could barely breathe. I nearly choked onmy drink, and Nina was wiping tears from her eyes as Shane groaned dramatically from his spot in the snow.
By the time the sun started dipping lower in the sky, we were all exhausted but happy. The fire was still crackling, the boys were warming up with another round of hot chocolate, roasting marshmallows for s’mores, and Nina and Harper were joking about who had wiped out the most.
I leaned back in my seat, letting the warmth of the moment sink in. This was the kind of day that stuck with you–the kind of day you replay in your head when life got too complicated.
As the firelight danced across Harper’s face, she glanced over at me, a soft smile tugging at the corners of her lips. It was simple, and in that moment, it felt like everything was exactly where it needed to be. Maybe we weren’t there yet, but I could see the future with her in it, a future that was worth the wait.
Christmas morning arriveswith a quiet weight in the air, settling deep in my stomach. Despite all my efforts, the nervousness gnaws at me. I’ve spent weeks gathering everything Connor asked for, hoping it will make up for the absence of Reid’s extravagant gifts. No matter how hard I try, though, I can’t shake the worry that it won’t be enough–that I won’t measure up to the lavish Christmases Connor is used to with his dad. I know I’m doing my best, but sometimes, that doesn’t feel like enough.
Connor is still asleep beside me when I wake up. For the past couple of weeks, nightmares about Reid have haunted him. The worst one, the one that left him crawling into my bed every night since, was the dream where his dad found us. He had woken up crying, his lips trembling with fear, and clung to me as he whispered what happened.
In his nightmare, Reid had hurt me, and Connor hadn’t been able to stop it. The terror in his eyes shattered me. I held him close, promising that we were safe, that nothing would happen to us. But it was what he said next that caught me off guard. Hisvoice, small and shaky, had whispered, Coach Ryan will protect us.
The words hit harder than I expected, and I couldn’t shake the strange flutter in my chest. Even though I assured him that I would protect him, too, that we were safe now, he hadn’t fully relaxed. Since then, he’d been sleeping in my bed every night, his body pressed against mine as if the closeness could keep the nightmares away.
