Page 147 of Almost Ours
“Right,” I said with a smile. “Almost eleven.”
He stared at me for a long moment, processing my words. Then, slowly, he nodded, his shoulders finally relaxing. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” I said firmly. “Your mom’s got this, and so do I. I won’t ever leave you guys, I promise.”
Connor didn’t respond right away. He stared at me for another long moment before finally leaning forward and wrapping his arms around my neck. I hugged him tightly, my chest aching for everything this kid had been through.
After a while he pulled back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Then… I guess we’re like… a family.”
Those words hit me straight in the chest, and I couldn’t help but grin. I ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yeah, bud. Just like a family.”
His smile grew a little wider. “Okay. I think I want to go to tryouts now.”
“Good,” I said, standing up and holding out a hand to him. “Let’s go show them what you’ve got.”
As we headed back downstairs, Harper was waiting by the door, her arms crossed and a curious expression on her face. Connor darted past her, grabbing his gear, and she stopped him just before he reached the door.
“Hey, bud,” she said, crouching down to his level. She opened her arms, and he stepped into her embrace, holding onto her like he didn’t want to let go.
“Kick butt out there, okay?” she said, squeezing him gently.
He pulled back, just enough to look her in the eyes, his smile a little less uncertain. “I will, Mom. I promise.”
Harper ruffled his hair affectionately before giving him one last hug. As Connor dashed off, she straightened up and turned to me, her eyebrows raised.
“What did you say to him?” she asked, her voice light but still laced with concern.
I just smiled and shrugged. “Family stuff.”
Her expression softened, and for a moment, our eyes met, sharing something unspoken. Family stuff, indeed.
The humof the arena buzzed in the background as I leaned against the boards, watching Connor skate out onto the ice. He was small compared to the older kids, his slight frame standing out among the bigger, more developed players. The second the drills started, though, it was like he transformed.
That kid was fast. His edges were crisp, and the way he handled the puck–his stick practically danced. Even against kids a few years older, he was holding his own. Hell, he was more than holding his own, he was standing out.
I couldn’t stop the pride swelling in my chest. Ten years old, the youngest out there, and he was easily in the top five of the group. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but damn, this kid had something special.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, snapping a few pictures and videos for Harper. She was finally out of her sling, thank God, but she had been hoping for a quiet afternoon to herself. I’d offered to take Connor to tryouts, knowing she could use the break.
Connor skated past, eyes lit up as he scored in the drill. I couldn’t help but grin and give him a thumbs-up when he looked my way.
As I checked the photos, I noticed a text from Kyle.
Kyle: How’s Harper doing?
My chest tightened at the sight of his name. Kyle had been one of the first to check in after everything went down, texting every couple of days to see how she was doing. Shane, too, had practically made himself a permanent fixture at Harper’s place, dropping off food, fixing things around the house, and just being there, even when I wasn’t around.
It hit me again, the guilt that never really went away. Kyle cared. Shane cared. They all did. And here I was, carrying around this massive secret about Kyle, still unable to bring myself to tell her.
I should’ve told her months ago. Hell, I shouldn’t have kept it from her in the first place. There had been many opportunities for me to share. She deserved to know. Every time I thought about bringing it up, though, I froze.
And now? Now it felt impossible.
The longer I waited, the harder it became. She’d been through so much–recovering from Reid, trying to get her life back on track. I couldn’t dump this on her while she was still healing. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. But the truth sat heavy in my chest, like a weight I couldn’t shake.
She deserved honesty. She deserved someone who didn’t keep things from her.
I stared at my phone, at Kyle’s name on the screen, and sighed. I had to tell her. It was just a matter of how–and when.
