Page 155 of Almost Ours
He sniffled against me, his whole body trembling. “I just… I just want Ryan back.”
Tears burned down my cheeks as I pressed a kiss to his head. “I know,” I whispered, my voice barely holding it together. “I know you do, sweetheart. And I’m so sorry.”
We sat there for a long time, wrapped around each other, our tears blending into the silence. Eventually, his sobs quieted, and he pulled back just enough to look up at me, his eyes glassy and red-rimmed. “Will I still see him?” His voice was hesitant, so small. “Like at hockey and stuff?”
“You’ll still see him around town, and maybe at hockey,” I told him gently, brushing damp strands of hair from hisforehead. “Ryan will always care about you, Connor. That’s not going to change.”
His lower lip trembled. “But he’s not coming here anymore?”
I shook my head, my throat too tight to speak.
His shoulders curled inward as he pressed his face into my shoulder again, and I held him even tighter. Every word I’d just spoken felt like a betrayal, like I was tearing apart something precious and irreplaceable.
Still, I knew that this was what I had to do–for him, for me, for us. At least, that’s what I kept telling myself as doubt and guilt gnawed at the edges of my heart.
The next daycame whether I wanted it to or not. The hurt clung like a second skin, heavy and unshakable. Life didn’t pause just because my heart had splintered, though. There was still Connor. Still bills. Still work.
So I kept moving, one step at a time, even when every step felt heavier than the last.
The smell of fresh bread and cinnamon filled the bakery as I slid a tray of cinnamon rolls into the oven. Benny stood across the counter, arms crossed, his brow furrowed as he watched me.
I tried to ignore him, focusing on wiping down the worktable. But his presence was impossible to ignore, especially when he was clearly gearing up for one of his “talks”.
“Okay,” he finally said, slamming his hands on the counter for dramatic effect. “Out with it.”
I signed, not looking up. “Out with what, Benny?”
“Don’t play coy with me, Harper. You've been moping around here all morning like someone cancelled Christmas, and it’s depressing. Spill.”
“There’s nothing to spill,” I said, hoping he’d drop it.
“Uh-huh. Sure.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice like we were sharing a secret. “Is it about Ryan? Because if it’s not, I’m running out of ideas, and that would be devastating for my ego.”
I winced at the mention of Ryan’s name, my heart sinking. I kept my gaze fixed on the table, trying to will away the lump in my throat. “It’s… complicated.”
“Sweetheart, complicated is my middle name,” he said, pulling up a stool and plopping down like he was settling in for a serious conversation. “But you know what’s not complicated? Talking to your fabulously nonjudgmental boss who also happens to give excellent advice.”
I snorted despite myself. “Nonjudgmental? You?”
He gasped, clutching his chest like I’d mortally wounded him. “I am deeply offended. But fine, maybe alittlejudgmental. Only because I care.”
I hesitated, chewing on the inside of my cheek. Benny was relentless, but he was also one of the few people I trusted with anything resembling the truth.
“It’s over,” I finally said, my voice barely above a whisper.
He blinked, clearly not expecting that. “Wait, what? You broke up withRyan? Mr. Tall, Dark, and Broody? Why?”
I stared down at the counter, trying to steady my breathing. “It’s… a long story.”
“Well, lucky for you, the bakery isn’t exactly hopping right now. And the cinnamon rolls have at least twenty minutes left. So, I’ve got time.”
I took a deep breath and glanced at him, seeing the genuine concern on his face. “It just… didn’t work. I thought I was doing the right thing, for me and for Connor. But it hurts. It all hurts.”
Benny’s expression softened, and he leaned back in his stool, arms crossed. “That’s the thing about love, Harper. It’s not always neat and tidy. Sometimes it’s messy and complicated,and it’s okay to admit it. But you have to know when it’s worth fighting for.”
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. “I don’t know if I can fight anymore.”
He studied me for a moment, before his lips curled into a smirk. “Well, I’m going to need more than that. A simple ‘it’s over’ won’t cut it, sweetheart. Not when I know you’re still holding onto something. So, spill the real story.”
