Page 133 of Almost Ours
Kyle rolled up beside me, his tone flat. “Alright, what’s eating at you?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. “Just tired.”
“Bullshit.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m not Shane–I’m not gonna sit here and let you mope so I can pretend I didn’t notice and feel better about it. Spit it out. Is it Harper?”
Finally, the words came out like I’d been holding them too long. “I’m happy, Kyle. With Harper, with Connor. It’s everything I didn’t think I’d have again. But every time I let myself feel that… I think about you. What I did. How I ended your career. How you’re in that chair because of me. I don’t deserve to be happy.”
His jaw tightened. “You done?”
I blinked. “What?”
“You heard me,” he said, voice harder now. “You just said it. I’m the one in the chair, man, not you. Me. And I’ve never once blamed you. But this–” he gestured at me “–this guilt trip you’ve been on for years? It’s gotta stop.”
I shook my head. “You don’t get it–”
“No, you don’t get it,” he cut in, sharp enough to make me shut up. “You think dragging yourself through the mud changes anything? You think it fixes my legs? Makes me play again? All it does is keep you from living your life, and it’s getting old.”
His words stung, but I didn’t move, didn’t look away.
Kyle’s mouth twisted. “You want to feel sorry for someone, go ahead. But don’t pretend it’s for me. You’re doing it for you. You’re using me as an excuse to punish yourself because it’s easier than letting go.”
That one landed like a hit to the gut.
He leaned back, shaking his head. “I’m not saying this to make you feel better. I’m saying it because you’re wasting what you’ve got, and that’s on you. Not me. Not what happened. You.”
I couldn’t answer. There was nothing to say that didn’t sound like another excuse.
Kyle finally wheeled toward the hallway. “I’m gonna grab a beer. You want one, get it yourself.”
And just like that, he was gone, leaving me with nothing but the echo of his words and the cold truth that he was right–I’d been living with guilt since my mom died. Blaming myself. And then Kyle’s accident. I didn’t know how to live without it, without making myself think I didn’t deserve happiness.
The next couple of days blurred together.
Kyle didn’t bring up our talk again. He didn’t dance around me or treat me any differently–just kept being himself. Joking with the kids. Giving me crap over my shot accuracy. Acting like we’d never had that conversation in the first place.
Maybe that was his way of giving me space, or maybe he just knew pushing me any harder right now would make me dig my heels in.
Either way, I was still fighting a war with myself.
Every quiet moment, every time I caught myself thinking about Harper and Connor, the guilt came roaring back–louder,heavier. I kept replaying the last thing Kyle had said, the edge in his voice when he told me I was wasting what I had.
He wasn’t wrong.
One thing was crystal clear: if I didn't tell Harper soon, I was going to push her away. And that was the one thing I couldn’t let happen. Not now. Not ever.
By the time I rolled into Brookhaven, the afternoon sun was bright, glinting off the snow piled along the sidewalks. The streets were busier than I expected for a weekday–people ducking in and out of shops, bundled up against the cold.
My first stop was the bakery. I pulled into the small parking lot, spotting Benny through the front window as he wiped down the counter. The place smelled like fresh bread and coffee, the kind of scent that made the world feel a little softer, a little more right.
Before getting out, I grabbed my phone, scrolling through my messages. Nothing from Harper.
I frowned. That was weird.
I’d texted her last night–a simple goodnight, told her I missed her. Then again this morning before I left, letting her know I was on my way back. She always texted back. Even if it was just a sleepy reply, or a little heart, or something about how Connor was already bouncing off the walls.
My messages were still sitting there, though, unread.
A flicker of unease crept in, but I pushed it down. Maybe she’d slept in. Maybe she was just busy.
