Page 162 of Almost Ours
But now, with Harper’s text replaying in my head, I had something bigger to look forward to.
“Alright,” Shane said, clapping me on the shoulder. “See you at eight.”
I nodded absently, my mind already elsewhere.
Later that day, as I packed up some tools and supplies I thought might help with Connor’s pyramid, I couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope. Harper might’ve been stubborn–hell, I loved that about her–but I wasn’t giving up. I was in this for the long haul.
For her. For Connor. For us.
I pulled up to Harper’s house at exactly three, double-checking the time on my dashboard as if being punctual somehow proved I deserved to be here. Before I could even ring the doorbell, the door flew open, and Connor was standing there, practically vibrating with excitement.
“Ryan!” he shouted, grabbing my arm and pulling me inside. “You’re here! I’ve been waiting forever!”
I laughed, letting him drag me toward the living room. “Forever, huh? You only just got home from hockey, like, an hour ago.”
“Still!” he said, grinning up at me. “Okay, so I’ve been thinking, and we definitely need stairs. And a temple on top. And maybe we can paint it to look, like, super old and cool!”
He was talking a mile a minute, his enthusiasm making it impossible not to smile. God, I’d missed this kid.
“Connor, slow down,” a familiar voice called from the hallway.
I turned, and there she was. She was in a pair of sleek black leggings and a fitted sports bra, her gym shoes in one hand and a cropped crewneck sweater slung over her arm. Her hair was pulled back into a high ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face, and she looked… incredible.
I couldn’t help but stare. She was stunning in a way that felt effortless, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Her eyes met mine, and something flickered there–hesitation, maybe? Or something softer? She cleared her throat, snapping me out of it.
“Are you sure you're okay with this? Me running out while you two work on the project?” She turned to me, her gaze more guarded.
“Of course,” I said, quickly. “Happy to help.”
She nodded, looking like she wanted to say something else. For a split second, I thought she might change her mind, might decide to stay so the three of us could spend the afternoon together. But then she shifted the sweater over her arm, her knuckles tightening around it.
“Alright,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Thanks, Ryan. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”
“Take your time” I said, hoping she could hear the sincerity in my voice.
Connor waved at her as she slipped on her sneakers. “Bye, Mom!”
She hesitated in the doorway, glancing back at us. Her eyes lingered on me for just a moment longer than necessary, and then she was gone, closing the door softly behind her.
Connor wasted no time pulling me toward the dining table, where he’d set up a chaotic assortment of cardboard, glue, and random supplies. “Okay, let’s do this!”
For the next couple of hours, we were fully immersed in building his Aztec pyramid. Connor’s energy was contagious, and for the first time in weeks, I felt… lighter. We talked about everything–school, hockey, his new favourite videogame–and laughed so much that my sides ached.
But then, he got quiet.
Too quiet.
I glanced up from where I was measuring out a piece for the steps and found him frowning at the pyramid base, his hands resting on the table.
“Hey, bud,” I said gently, setting my tools down. “What’s up? You look like you’ve got something on your mind.”
He shrugged, his shoulders slumping. “Nothing.”
I wasn’t buying it. Connor was always an open book, and when he wasn’t talking, it meant something was bothering him.
“Come on,” I urged, leaning closer. “You can tell me. Did I cut the foam wrong? Or is it the paint? Too boring?”
