Page 38 of Almost Ours
“No rush,” he said with a small shrug. “We’ll keep busy.”
Connor grabbed Ryan’s hand, already tugging him toward the snow maze. “Come on! I want to see if it’s really as big as Liam said!”
Ryan shot me one last glance, his smile softening. “See you later, Harper.”
“See you,” I called, my voice a little breathy as I watched them walk away.
I couldn’t help but watch them for a moment—Connor skipping ahead, his hat bobbing with each step, and Ryan easily matching his pace. He glanced back once, catching me looking. A small, playful grin tugged at his mouth as he lifted a hand in a wave before disappearing into the crowd.
Connor walked beside me,his long legs moving fast as he rattled off facts about the Aztecs. I was only catching every other word, but his enthusiasm was infectious.
“They used to play this ball game,” he said, his voice rising with excitement. “And the court was huge! But guess what? Sometimes the losers got sacrificed to the gods!”
“Sacrificed, huh?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “And you think hockey’s intense.”
Connor laughed, shaking his head like I was the one missing out on important historical context. “No, no, it was an honour. That’s why they did it–to please the gods!”
I hummed in response, pretending to process that information, when Connor suddenly stopped in his tracks.
“Gingerbread houses!” he exclaimed, pointing to a nearby tent where clusters of kids and adults were gathered around tables, icing and candy spread out in colourful chaos. Without waiting for me, he bolted toward the competition area.
“Hold up!” I called, jogging to keep up.
Watching him weave through the crowd, all energy and curiosity, I felt my thoughts slip elsewhere.
Harper.
She’d been a whirlwind this morning, her cheeks flushed from the cold as she worked tirelessly to set up the booth. Her knit hat kept sliding off her head, and she kept tucking stray strands of her hair behind her ears, clearly annoyed by it. Still, she glowed–eyes bright with determination, hands steady and quick as she adjusted garland and organized trays of baked goods.
She looked… happy. Excited, even. Like this event meant something to her, and she wanted it to be perfect.
That spark–it caught me off guard. She wasn’t just going through the motions; she was invested.
And it hit me how long it had been since I felt that way about anything.
My first Winterfest was just last year. Shane had dragged me here, determined to get me out of the funk I’d been in for months. I hadn’t wanted to come, didn’t want to pretend to enjoy myself when I was barely holding it together.
I’d been so damn low back then–barely sleeping, constantly angry or numb. Depression was a weight I couldn’t seem to shake, no matter how hard I tried.
This town had a way of working on you, of sneaking under your skin. The laughter, the sense of community, the sheer absurdity of some of the games and competitions. By the end of the night, I’d felt… lighter. Like a tiny crack had opened up in that wall I’d built around myself. That crack seemed to be widening a little more each day, especially since Harper showed up in town.
Shane had been relentless after that, making sure I didn’t slip back into isolation. And slowly, with the help of him, the people in this town, and this place in general, I started to find my footing again.
“Ryan, look!” Connor’s voice jolted me back to the present.
He was at the gingerbread table, waving me over like he’d just discovered buried treasure. I shook off the memories, forcing myself to focus on him.
“Alright, buddy,” I said, smiling as I walked over. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”
Because today wasn’t about the past. It was about this kid and his boundless enthusiasm, about Harper and her radiant determination.
And maybe, it was about letting myself enjoy it, too.
Connor leaned forward, carefully sticking a gumdrop onto the roof of the gingerbread house like it was a life or death operation. His tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, and I bit back a smile. The kid wasinto it.
“This has to be perfect,” Connor declared, glancing at me like I was supposed to take notes. “We’re not just makinganygingerbread house. Ours is going to bethe best one here.”
I chuckled, shaking my head as I squeezed some icing onto a wall piece. “The best, huh? What happens if someone's house is better?”
