Page 97 of Almost Ours
We went home the next day. I didn’t try to leave again
I jolted upright, heart hammering, a sheen of sweat clinging to my skin despite the cold air in the room. My breath came inquick, shallow pulls as I looked around, trying to anchor myself to the present.
My bedroom. My sheets. My house. Safe. Connor was safe. We were safe.
I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes, willing the memory away. It still had claws, even after all this time. Even after everything I’d done to outrun it. I didn’t even want to think about what he would do if he found us this time. But I couldn’t let that fear control me anymore. I couldn’t let him keep us trapped, even from a distance. I drew in a long, shaky breath and pulled the blanket tighter around me. But the comfort didn’t come. Not really.
Because even now, after everything Ryan and I had shared–after the warmth of his touch, the tenderness of his kiss–all I could think was: this is too good to be true.
Stuff like this didn’t happen to people like me.
People like me didn’t get soft mornings and whispered promises. We got locked doors and bruised skin and the constant fear of the next explosion. I didn’t get good things. Not for long. Not without paying for them later.
And Ryan? He was everything I hadn’t even let myself want. Kind. Steady. Strong. He made me feel safe in a way that was terrifying. Because the moment I let myself believe in that safety, it could be ripped away.
The other shoe always dropped.
I pulled my knees to my chest, burying my face against them.
Why now? Why him? What if I was just setting myself up for another fall?
And what about Connor?
What if this–whatever this was–put him at risk?
The silence stretched long and heavy until I whispered into it, “This can’t be real.”
Because I didn’t believe in fairytales. Not anymore.
Still, my heart beated too fast–my mind echoing with Ryan’s voice and the way he had looked at me like I was something worth staying for.
And that scared me more than anything else ever had.
We were halfway through breakfast–Connorwith a bowl of cereal, me with coffee and toast–when he looked up with that spark in his eyes that meant trouble.
“Coach Ryan said he used to snowboard all the time when he played in Colorado. Do you think we could go? Maybe over Christmas break? Like, up the mountain and everything? He said he’d teach me.”
The mention of Ryan made my heart skip. I tried to keep my focus on spreading jam across my toast, but the excitement in Connor’s voice was impossible to ignore. He said Coach Ryan so easily, so naturally, like Ryan had always been part of his life.
I couldn’t take that from him.
No matter what happened between Ryan and me, no matter what I was feeling or how messy it all became–I wouldn’t be the reason Connor lost someone he clearly looked up to. I wouldn’t let my fears ruin that connection.
“We’ll see,” I said softly.
He grinned and shovelled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth before leaning back in his chair. “I’m really glad we moved here, Mom.”
My heart clenched. “Yeah?”
He nodded, thoughtful now. “I like our new house–it’s cozy. And the rink. And Jaxxon and Liam and Nina. And the team. And Coach Shane. And Coach Ryan. It’s better here.”
I swallowed hard. “Do you ever miss our old place?”
Connor didn’t even hesitate. “Nope.”
I blinked. “Not at all?”
“Nope,” he said again, a little firmer. “I like it here better. You smile more.”
