Page 185 of Almost Ours
Still, no matter how fulfilling the work was, there was a hollow space inside me that no amount of coaching could fill.
Connor.
We FaceTimed almost every night, the highlight of my evenings. He’d sit cross-legged on his bed, grinning into the screen as he told me about his day. School had started a couple of weeks ago, and he couldn’t stop talking about his new teacher, Mrs. Franklin, who apparently let them have extra recess if they did their math homework without complaining.
“And guess what, Ryan?” he’d said last week, his green eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hockey’s started up again!”
“Yeah?” I leaned closer to the screen, smiling. “You ready to show them all your new moves?”
Connor nodded enthusiastically. “Shane says I’ve been working hard over the summer, and wants to try me on right wing this year!”
I laughed, remembering the many arguments Shane and I had about the best position for Connor last season. Shane always wanted to try him out on the right wing.
“You’d make a great right winger, bud. Just remember–keep your head up, watch the play, and support your teammates. That’s the most important thing.”
“Like you always tell me,” he said with a grin.
Those calls were everything. He’d talk about school, his friends, and hockey, and for a little while, it felt like I was stillthere–still a part of his life. Still, every time we hung up, the ache of missing him grew sharper.
And Harper…
We had spoken. Not often, not deeply, but enough that I couldn’t stop hoping.
She texted me almost every day. Sometimes it was about Connor–what time his game was, how school was going, how he’d insisted on wearing mismatched socks because apparently, that was his “thing” now. Other times, it was something small, something that felt just a little like the way we used to be. A comment about a show we both watched. A picture of Benny’s latest creation from the bakery–some Frankenstein-like pastry that should’ve been a crime against food–with a caption:he’s finally lost it.
And when Connor called, she didn’t just hover in the background anymore. She’d stay after he said goodnight, lingering on the screen like she wasn’t ready to hang up either. Some nights, it was just a quickHow was your day?OrYou look tired. Are you sleeping okay?The other night, we talked until the silence between us grew too heavy, too full of everything we weren’t saying.
It felt like she was letting me back in.
Not all the way, though.
And from four hours away, I had no idea how to bridge that last bit of distance.
I’d been really hoping that when she called after me as I was leaving, it was to ask me to stay. If she had, I would have. No hesitation. But she didn’t. And now I was here, trying to figure out what the hell to do.
The head coach, Jeff, had sat me down earlier today, practically buzzing with excitement. He wanted me to take a permanent position. Full-time.
“You’re a natural,”he’d said, his face lit up.“The kids respond to you like they’ve known you forever. We’d be lucky to have you long-term.”
It was an incredible opportunity–one most people would kill for. And if Harper and Connor weren’t in the picture, I wouldn’t have hesitated. They were, though.
And they were everything.
If Harper ever gave me the chance to be part of their lives again, I’d take it over this in a heartbeat. But from here, I couldn’t tell if that was even a possibility. And I couldn’t wait around forever, hoping she’d change her mind.
I sighed, leaning back on the bench, watching the kids skate around the ice, laughing and shouting as they practised their drills. This life? It was good. It was steady and fulfilling in ways I hadn't expected.
It wasn’t Harper, though.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her–her laugh, her sharp green eyes, the way she scrunched her nose when she was pretending to be annoyed. God, I missed the way she used to look at me when she was happy, like I was the only thing in the world that mattered.
And then there were the nights. The way she fit against me, soft and warm, her breath hitching when I kissed her neck. The way she whispered my name in the dark, her voice thick with sleep and something else, something I’d never deserved. I could still see her, down on her knees, staring up at me with those piercing eyes, her mouth soft and warm against me–
I clenched my jaw, pushing the thought away before it could take hold.
Now wasn’t the time to be thinking like that.
What I needed was to see her. In person. To stop analyzing texts and phone calls and the way she lingered just a second toolong before hanging up. To look her in the eyes and finally figure out where we stood.
