Page 8 of Almost Ours
Me? That version of myself felt like someone I’d left behind.
A door creaked open, the sound echoing across the arena. I turned, half-expecting Shane with some jab about me brooding alone. The noise faded quickly, swallowed back into the hum.
I stood, boots scuffing against the concrete, the sound sharp in the stillness. The ice was calling–not for skating, not tonight. Tonight, it was just there–a blank slate, waiting for someone else to make their mark.
As I reached the edge of the rink, I let my hand rest against the boards, the cold biting into my skin. Maybe Mrs. Nickols was right. Maybe I could be the guy everyone seemed to think I was. Right now, though, it felt safer to just be the guy who stayed behind after practice, staring at the ice and wondering if it could tell the difference between who I was and who I wanted to be.
With a sigh, I turned and made my way toward the locker room, the sound of my footsteps the only thing breaking the quiet.
The old baseboardheater hummed quietly as I stood at the kitchen stove, flipping eggs in a pan that had seen better days. The smell was comforting, if a little thin–eggs and toast, no extras. The fridge door stood ajar behind me, practically empty. A half-carton of eggs, some milk, butter, fruit and vegetables. I hadn’t dared buy much at the store yesterday. Not when I didn’t know when I’d be earning again.
The cupboards weren’t much better. A few cans of soup, one box of pasta, the jar of peanut butter I’d grabbed last minute because it was on sale. And the loaf of bread, already down to the last few slices after yesterday’s sandwiches and this morning’s toast.
I set the toast on two mismatched plates and glanced out the small kitchen window. The backyard stretched quiet and white, the fresh snow from yesterday untouched save for a trail of footprints that led out toward the pond.
It shimmered in the early light, surrounded by bare trees and a low wooden fence that looked like it hadn’t been painted in years. Icicles hung from the porch roof like crooked teeth, andbeyond the pond, a dense line of evergreens stood like silent sentinels, separating us from the rest of town.
The whole scene looked like something from a postcard, the kind of winter stillness you read about in Christmas books. Peaceful. Isolated. Safe.
I startled at the soft creak of a floorboard behind me and turned around, spatula still in hand.
Connor padded into the kitchen in his socks, rubbing one eye with the back of his hand, his sandy blond hair sticking up in five different directions. He’d shot up this past year, all lanky limbs and boyish charm, but his cheeks were still round with the last traces of childhood. His green eyes–so much like mine used to be–were wide and curious as he looked around.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
I offered a tired smile and lowered the spatula. “It’s okay, buddy. You hungry?”
He nodded, settling into one of the wobbly kitchen chairs and pulling his knees up to sit cross-legged. “Smells good.”
“Well, it’s just eggs and toast. And I added a little pepper. Fancy, huh?”
He grinned, shoulders relaxing a little. “Real fancy.”
I set a plate in front of him and ruffled his hair as I passed, then returned to the counter to grab my coffee. The mug was chipped, warming my hands as I took a sip and leaned against the sink.
“Today’s the big day,” I said gently. “We’ll go check out your new school after breakfast.”
He paused mid-bite. “Do you think the kids will be nice?”
I took a breath, choosing my words carefully. “I hope so. But either way, you’ve got that charm of yours. And that’s pretty hard to ignore.”
He rolled his eyes in that way that let me know he appreciated it, even if he wouldn’t admit it.
I glanced out the window again, eyes drifting back to the pond and I made a mental note to ask someone in town if it was safe to walk on yet.
Connor followed my gaze. “Do you think we could skate on it?”
“The pond?”
“Yeah. It’s frozen isn’t it?” He said, pressing his face to the cold glass.
“Maybe if we can get our hands on some skates, we could try it out.” I said, smiling at his awe.
“Really?” His eyes lit up.
I nodded, ignoring the tight squeeze in my chest at the idea of addingskatesto the ever-growing list ofthings we can’t afford. “Yeah. We’ll see what we can do.”
Connor scraped the last of his eggs off the plate, then pushed it forward and leaned back with a satisfied sigh. “I wonder if they have a hockey team here for me. Like the one I was on before we left.”
