Page 44 of Almost Ours
“I can give you a ride home,” I offered, slipping my hands into my jacket pockets as the snow continued to fall. “No sense in walking all the way back in this.”
Harper hesitated, her gaze meeting mine. There was a flicker of something unreadable in her expression before she finally nodded. “Thanks,” she said softly, her voice warm despite the cold.
“Great,” Nina said, clapping her hands together. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to prepare my house for the chaos about to descend upon it. Come on, boys.”
Connor and Liam took off after her, already deep in conversation about snacks and movies. Shane trailed after them, throwing a wink in our direction.
“Don’t worry,” he called over his shoulder. “I’ll keep things in line. Maybe.”
Harper shook her head, laughing as we turned toward the truck. The snow crunched softly beneath our boots, the night settling into a quiet hum around us. Every so often, our hands brushed–a fleeting touch, barely there, but enough to send a jolt through me like static electricity. I stole glances at her, caught the way the soft glow of the street lights lit up her face. She looked… perfect. Snowflakes clung to her hair, her cheeks flushed pink from the cold.
She looked over at me once and caught me staring. I looked away too fast.
Smooth.
We reached the truck, and I opened the passenger door for her. She hesitated before getting in, eyes scanning the quiet lot like she needed to take one more breath before closing herself back in.
“You okay?” I asked, voice low.
She didn’t answer right away. Just nodded and climbed in.
I walked around to my side, trying not to read into it–and failing. The engine started with a grumble, and I turned the heater up. For a minute, neither of us spoke.
Then, softly, she said, “Connor had a good night.”
I looked over. Her hands were wrapped around her cup like it was the only thing anchoring her. “He did,” I agreed.
She smiled, but it was tired around the edges. “He needed that.”
I didn’t push, just nodded. Let her talk if she wanted to. There was still so much about her I didn’t know.
Then, almost like she hadn’t meant to say it aloud, she added, “His dad’s not an easy guy to be around.”
My hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel. “Is he… around?”
Her jaw worked for a second, like she was debating how much to say. “Not really,” she said after a pause.
That pause carried weight, and I felt it settle between us like dust in a cab.
I hesitated. “Does Connor see him?”
She shook her head. “No. He doesn’t live near here.”
Her voice was steady, but there was something clipped about it. Controlled.
I looked over at her again. She wasn’t looking at me–her eyes were focused straight ahead, shoulders tense, spine pulled taut like she was holding something back.
“Harper–” I started.
“Anyway, he’s happy here. That’s what matters.” She cut in quickly.
Just like that, the door slammed shut. Not literally, but emotionally, it was clear. She’d let me peek in, just for a second, and now the locks were back in place.
I nodded slowly, shifting gears, letting her change the subject without pushing.
Her words stuck with me long after we pulled out of the parking lot.
The snow was coming down harderby the time we pulled into my driveway. Everything looked softer, quieter, like the world was holding its breath beneath a thick white blanket. My car sat buried beneath it, practically invisible.
