Page 45 of Almost Ours
“I guess you’re not driving this anywhere tonight,” Ryan said, nodding toward it with a smirk.
I sighed, watching my breath fog up the window. “Looks like it. I’ll have to dig it out in the morning.”
“I can give you a lift to Nina’s,” Ryan offered, nodding toward the passenger door.
I raised an eyebrow. “You moonlight as a chauffeur now?”
He smirked. “Only for VIPs. And kids who need their toothbrushes.”
That earned a quiet laugh from me. “Alright, alright. I’ll grab his stuff.”
The cold hit me the second I stepped outside, snow crunching beneath my boots as I made my way up the porch. The warm glow of the porch light reflected off the fresh dusting of snow, and for a second, everything felt still. Quiet. I packedConnor’s bag and slipped back outside, careful not to slide on the icy steps.
When I climbed back into the truck, brushing snow from my coat, Ryan glanced over at me, his expression soft. “Ready?”
“Yeah. It’s really cold out there,” I said, securing my seatbelt and blowing into my hands for warmth.
He cranked up the heat and reached over to adjust the vents, angling them toward me without saying anything. It was a simple gesture, but it caught me off guard–how thoughtful he always seemed to be, even when he wasn’t trying.
We drove in silence for a few minutes, the sound of the tires crunching over snow the only noise between us. It wasn’t awkward. It was… comfortable.
“Thanks for doing this,” I said, finally glancing over at him.
“Anytime,” he replied.
There was something steady about the way he said it–like he meant it. Like he was someone you could count on.
Ryan glanced over at me. “So… does Connor always negotiate sleepovers like he’s drafting a contract?”
I laughed. “Only when he thinks he’s got the upper hand. He knows Nina’s a softie–acts all tough, but he’s got her wrapped around his finger.”
Ryan grinned. “Smart kid. Sounds like he inherited some negotiation skills.”
“Oh, absolutely. If there’s pizza and a movie involved, he’s basically a lawyer.”
“He’s a good kid. Funny, too.” Ryan said, turning onto the main road. “The other day at practice, he tried to convince me that pineapple belongs oneverykind of pizza.”
I groaned. “He’s been on that crusade for weeks. I blame YouTube.”
“I just asked what his favourite pizza was. Next thing I know, he’s giving me a TED Talk on the flavour balance of sweet andsavory. Ryan smirked. “So, I told him I’d consider it–if he could score five slapshots in a row.”
“And did he?”
“Almost. Four and a half. The last one sort of wobbled in like a confused duck.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Sounds about right.”
The snow started to fall heavier, soft flakes tapping against the windshield. It was quiet for a second, and then Ryan asked: “So, serious question: best movie snack. And be warned, there is only one correct answer.”
I tilted my head. “Popcorn with M&M’s. Obviously.”
“With or without butter?”
“With. Layered too, I’m not a monster.”
He nodded solemnly. “Okay, we can still be friends.”
I grinned at him. “That was almost a dealbreaker?”
