Page 95 of Almost Ours
“Alright,” I said, ruffling Connor’s hat. “But I’ll need to swing by my place first.”
Connor whooped, pumping his fist in the air like he’d just won something. Then he looked up at me, brow furrowed. “You should probably change too… those clothes look like they’re about to explode.”
Harper snorted behind me, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.
I glanced down at myself. “Yeah,” I muttered with a smirk. “Good call.”
Minutes later, we were piling into my truck–Harper settling into the passenger seat, Connor chattering away in the back. I pulled out of the driveway, stealing a glance at Harper as she buckled her seatbelt, the tension from earlier melting away, replaced by something softer. Warmer.
“Two minutes,” I promised, hopping out and jogging up the steps. I grabbed my skates, hoodie, gloves, and a change of clothes, tugging them on as fast as possible before heading back outside. My heart hadn’t stopped racing–not from nerves anymore, but from the surreal feeling of this… whateverthiswas.
Skating. With Connor. And Harper.
It felt dangerously close to normal. Too good.
And that scared the hell out of me.
The crisp airof the rink wrapped around us as I laced up my skates, watching Connor as he zipped around, already chasing pucks like he was in the NHL. Harper sat on the bench, tying her skates with practised ease. I figured she was just indulging Connor by joining us on the ice, so when she stepped on the rink and started gliding effortlessly, my jaw nearly hit the floor.
“You can skate?” I called out, trying to hide my surprise.
Harper grinned, her cheeks flushed from the cold. “Of course, I can skate.”
“Not just skate,” I said, watching her pivot gracefully and glide backwards with ease. “You’re really good. How did I not know this?”
She shrugged, that playful smile tugging at her lips. “There’s still a lot we don’t know about each other.” She paused, her eyes catching mine, warm and full of something that made my chest tighten.
“Well,” I said, grabbing a stick off the bench and tossing one to her, “let’s see if you’re as good with a stick as you are on your skates.”
Connor skated up, his face lighting with excitement. “Let’s play two-on-one! Mom and me versus you!”
“Alright,” I said, smirking. “Don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you’ve got a secret weapon, though.”
We divided up and the game was on. Harper surprised me again by taking the puck straight past me in her first rush, her skating smooth and fast as she deked left and right, finally passing to Connor, who scored with a triumphant cheer.
“Mom, you’re amazing!” Connor shouted, circling in awe.
“Where’s this been hiding?” I asked, shaking my head as I chased after her for the puck.
She laughed, her voice light and carefree. “Let’s just say I had a lot of practice growing up. You’re not the only hockey star around here.”
The three of us spent the afternoon battling it out, with Harper and Connor scoring more than I’d like to admit. Every time I thought I had Harper pinned down, she’d pull some trick out of her hat, sending Connor into fits of laughter as I failed to stop them.
By the time we finally skated off the ice, my sides hurt from laughing, my legs ached, and my heart felt impossibly full.
Connor sat beside me on the bench, unlacing one skate with surprising care for a ten-year-old who usually did everything at lightning speed. The cold air nipped at our cheeks, and his breath puffed out in soft clouds. Harper had gone to bring her skates back to Patti, leaving the two of us alone.
He didn’t say much at first. Just quietly worked at the knots in his laces, lips pressed in concentration. I leaned back, stretching my legs and glancing up at the roof.
Then out of nowhere, his voice cut through the calm.
“Ryan?”
I turned, immediately attentive. “Yeah, bud?”
He kept his eyes on his hands, fingers stilling on his skate. “Do you think it’s bad to be scared sometimes?”
The question settled between us like snow–light, but with weight behind it.
