Page 9 of Almost Ours
Guilt pricked at the back of my throat. I knew how much he’d loved it–waking up early for practices, tugging his gear bag down the stairs, rattling off every stat like he was reporting forHockey Night in Canada.
I forced a smile. “I’m not sure, buddy. The season’s probably already started… I’ll see what I can find out.”
His face lit up like I’d just handed him a winning lottery ticket. “Really?”
“Really,” I said. “No promises, but I’ll ask around. Now go get dressed.”
Connor gave a dramatic fist pump as I watched him disappear up the stairs, humming to himself as he went to get ready.
I turned my attention back to the window, taking in the frost along the edges of the glass and the quiet stillness beyond it.
We steppedout of the school into the crisp morning air, the sun just beginning to peek through the blanket of grey clouds overhead. Snow crunched beneath our boots as Connor bounced beside me, cheeks flushed with excitement.
“That was the coolest school ever,” he said, practically skipping.
I smiled, tugging my coat tighter around me.
Every person we’d met–from the front office staff to the principal–had been warm and welcoming. His teacher seemed genuinely kind, and even the handful of kids he’d met had been friendly, open. It was more than I could have hoped for.
We turned down Main Street instead of heading home, the decision burning in my gut. I hadn’t planned to do this today, but this morning’s empty cupboards haunted me. The loaf of bread was already down to three slices, and I wasn’t sure how many ways I could turn half-dozen eggs into full meals.
Connor’s voice hummed beside me as we walked–something about slap shots and how he and Liam were going to build the “coolest snow fort ever.” I listened with half an ear, the other half busy scanning every passing face. The street was busier than yesterday. Shops had their signs flipped to OPEN, and cheerful locals wandered from storefront to storefront bundled in thick coats and scarves. Several people offered warm smiles or friendly greetings.
“Morning!”
“Hi there!”
“Cute kid!”
I nodded stiffly each time, my own smile not quite reaching my eyes. Connor had no such hesitation–he greeted everyonelike a golden retriever off leash, proudly announcing, “We’re new here!”
I tried to match his ease, but each face we passed was a puzzle piece I hadn’t seen before. Any of them could be connected to Reid. A cousin. A friend. Someone he sent.
My hand instinctively rested on Connor’s shoulder, guiding him gently forward.
He glanced up at me. “Are we going home?”
I hesitated. “Not yet,” I said quietly. “We’re going to make a quick stop in town.”
“For what?”
I looked down at him and mustered a smile. “Something important.”
Because I needed more than hope to keep us afloat. I needed a plan. And maybe… a little help.
The bakery was even cozierthis morning, the windows fogged slightly from the warmth within. Frost still clung to the edges of the glass, and golden light spilled from the inside like a promise. The comforting scent of cinnamon and vanilla reached us before we even opened the door.
I pushed it open, the bell above jingling softly, and a wave of heat hit my face, immediately thawing the chill that had settled in my bones.
“Go grab us a table, bud,” I told Connor, gently patting his back. “I’ll order.”
He nodded and darted toward the corner window booth–the same one we’d sat at yesterday–his boots squeaking on the freshly mopped floor. I took a deep breath and stepped into line, wiping my damp hands on the sides of my coat. The line waslong, filled with smiling regulars and laughter, and for once, it wasn’t the noise that made my heart thump–it was the thought of what I was about to do.
I needed to ask. I had to. A job meant groceries. Rent. Skates for Connor. Safety.
The queue moved slowly, each customer stopping to chat with Benny as if he were an old friend–and I supposed most of them were. He was in his usual flour-dusted apron, animated as ever, laughing at someone’s story and gesturing wildly with a pair of tongs.
When I finally reached the front, his face lit up like the string lights above the counter.
