Page 126 of Almost Ours
She hesitated, her fingers tightening on the edge of the door. Her gaze flicked past me, to the truck, then back again. She drew in a breath like she was about to speak, but let it out instead.
“Ryan…” Her voice was quiet, uncertain. Another pause. “Are you…” She shook her head, as if she might drop it, then tried again, slower this time. “Are you leaving because of what I told you last night?”
Her words hit like a punch. “No.” I stepped closer, my voice sharp. “God, no.”
Before she could look away, I caught her gently by the shoulders and tipped her chin up so she had to meet my eyes. “This is something I’ve been doing for a while–helping a friend with a project a couple times a month. He’s had other things going on the past while, so I haven’t needed to go. He needs my help again, now. That’s all.”
Some of the tension bled from her posture, but not all. I could see it in the way her eyes searched mine, still holding onto a sliver of doubt.
I reached past her and closed the door softly so Connor couldn’t see us. Her breath caught as my hand slid back to her side, drawing her closer.
Then I kissed her–slow yet certain, my thumb brushing her jaw as if I could anchor her there with me for just a little longer.
When I finally pulled back, my forehead rested against hers. “I’ll be back before you know it.”
The drive to Oakville was uneventful, the quiet hum of the highway giving me too much time to think. By the time I reached the city, a mix of anticipation and apprehension curled in my gut.
A few hours later, I pulled into the arena parking lot. The building wasn’t much to look at—weathered brick, fading signs, and a cracked asphalt lot–but the sight of it always brought a rush of conflicting emotions.
I sat in the truck for a moment, tapping out a quick text to Harper.
Ryan: Made it. Miss you already.
Her reply came almost instantly.
Harper: Miss you too. Be safe and have fun, whatever it is you’re up to.
I stared at her message for a second, that single line twisting something deep in my chest. She knew something was off. Maybe she wasn’t sure what, but she felt it. And I hated that I was making her question things.
Shoving my phone into my pocket, I took a deep breath, grabbed my duffel bag, and headed inside.
“Ryan!”
A familiar voice called out, and I turned just in time to see Kyle wheeling toward me, his ever-present grin splitting his face.
Kyle was built like an athlete–broad shoulders, toned arms, and the kind of confidence that made people forget about the chair entirely. His dirty blond hair was styled to perfection, not a strand out of place, and his green eyes gleamed with the unshakable energy that had always defined him. Dressed in a zip-up athletic jacket and track pants, he looked like he could have stepped straight off the cover of a sports magazine. His chair, sleek and modern, moved like an extension of his body.
“Missed you around here,” he said, clapping me on the arm.
“Yeah,” I said with a grin. “Christmas break, then you guys were away. It’s been a while.”
Kyle waved it off like it was nothing. “Just happy you’re back! The guys are gonna be stoked to see you.”
He led the way to the dressing room, chatting about the latest drills he’d been running with the team. The second we stepped inside, the energy in the room was electric. Kids ranging from fourteen to eighteen were scattered throughout, pulling on their gear, laughing, and chirping each other between helmet straps and elbow pads. Sledge hockey equipment was sprawled everywhere, and I had to sidestep a rogue helmet rolling across the floor.
“Coach Ryan!”
I turned to see Ethan, one of the younger players, grinning as he called my name.
“Hey, guys,” I said, raising a hand in greeting.
The room erupted with voices–some welcoming me back, others chirping me for being late. I chuckled, shaking my head as I helped a couple of the newer kids adjust their gear. Thiswas why I was here. This team, this program–these kids had poured everything into it, and in return, they’d built something extraordinary.
Two of them had even made the national sledge hockey team for the Paralympics earlier in the season–a feat that still left me in awe.
As the kids filed out toward the ice, their laughter echoing through the rink, Kyle leaned against the doorway, watching me with that same easy grin.
“Told you they missed you,” he said quietly.
