Page 15 of Almost Ours
“Yes,” I said with a smile.
Nina gave a small wave. “Thanks for walking with us.”
With a final wave, they disappeared around the corner. I stood for a moment, watching the space they’d just occupied, then looked down at Connor beside me–his cheeks flushed, snow in his air, eyes bright with the kind of joy I hadn’t seen in so long.
“Alright,let’s see what we’ve got for you champ,” Patti’s voice boomed from inside the storage room, her arms already full of gear that looked like it had lived a dozen hockey lives. She plunked a pair of shin guards down on the bench beside Connor, then rummaged deeper.
The storage room itself looked like it hadn’t seen a proper clean-out in years. Stacks of mismatched gear were piled against the walls, shin pads teetering in a tower that looked one bump away from collapse, helmets with faded stickers shoved into laundry baskets, and boxes labelled in thick black marker–GLOVES (sorta good), PANTS (questionable), NECK GUARDS (use at own risk). The air smelled faintly of sweat and leather, with the sharp tang of disinfectant barely covering it. A single flickering bulb buzzed overhead, casting long shadows over the mess.
“These’ll keep your legs in one piece. Elbow pads? Got’em. Gloves? Might smell like wet dog, but they’ll do.”
Connor’s grin spread wide as he started strapping on the gear to try it on, the old rhythm of it all coming back. Havingeverything new-to-him–gear, rink, team–made it feel fresh and exciting.
For him, at least.
For me, the excitement was tangled with nerves that twisted tighter the longer I stood there. Hockey had never been a cheap sport, I knew that. I just never had to foot the bill before. Reid had always handled the registrations, the travel, the equipment–not out of kindness, but because hockey was the only thing about Connor’s life he cared to control. He wanted Connor to be the next big star, and every game was a measuring stick. Wins meant praise; losses meant explosions that left Connor small and tense in the backseat, while I prayed the sport itself wouldn’t be ruined for him.
Yet somehow, he still loved it. Purely, naturally. The ice belonged to him.
Patti’s voice pulled me back. She popped up, holding a pair of skates, her grey curls bouncing. “What size are you, kiddo?”
“Three,” Connor said quickly, practically bouncing on his toes.
Patti squinted at the faded number on the tongue. “Shit–whoops, sorry about that.” She shot me a sheepish grin before carrying on like nothing happened. “These are a three-and-a-half… I think they’ll do the trick, though. Just wear an extra pair of socks and you’ll be golden.”
She chuckled at her own joke, clearly pleased with her solution, and Connor giggled too, already reaching for the skates.
“I’ve got a stack of helmets piled higher than my husband’s fishing trophies in here somewhere–although, that man hasn’t caught a thing in twenty years!” Patti grunted as she shoved a box of shin guards to the side, then nudged a crate of elbow pads with her foot.
At last, she unearthed a black helmet, holding it up like it was buried treasure. She popped it open, gave it a quick look inside, and wrinkled her nose dramatically. “Well, it’s not gonna win any awards for smelling fresh. Hockey isn’t about smelling good anyway–it’s about grit, sweat, and a little stink for good luck.”
With that, she tossed it across the room. Connor caught it midair without hesitation, grinning as he slid it on and adjusted the straps like he’d been doing it his whole life.
The door creaked, and Nina poked her head in. “Everything good in here?” She held up a black hockey bag that looked only lightly used. “Thought you might need this. Liam’s got an extra.”
Relief flickered across my face as I smiled. “Thanks. That’s perfect.”
“Good.” Nina stepped inside, handing Connor the bag. “Liam’s already in the dressing room. I’ll show you where it is once you’re ready.”
Connor wasted no time loading his gear into the bag, his excitement buzzing off him in waves. When he slung it over his shoulder, he looked taller, prouder, like he was already halfway to the ice. Nina gave me a small smile, then guided him toward the dressing room.
As soon as the door swung shut behind them, my stomach twisted. I turned back toward Patti, who was now scribbling on a clipboard.
“So, I guess we should get the registration done.”
“Oh yes, the dreaded paperwork.” She brushed her hands down the sides of her jeans and bustled past me, motioning for me to follow.
I forced a smile and trailed after her.
The narrow hallway opened into the main lobby, and immediately I was hit with the smell of popcorn and coffee from the concession stand tucked into the corner. Along the far wall stretched a massive mural–bright blues and whites depictingkids skating on a frozen pond, bundled up in mismatched scarves and helmets, their faces all flushed with joy. It gave the place a kind of charm, like the rink itself had a story to tell.
To the left, through a wall of plexiglass, I caught sight of a small ice surface where tiny kids in oversized jerseys wobbled like penguins, their sticks twice as tall as they were. Parents lined the boards, their cheers muffled through the glass. And down the other hall, through a set of heavy doors, was the main rink–the big one. I could already hear the thud of pucks against boards and the sharp scrape of blades cutting across the ice. Somewhere back there were the dressing rooms where Connor and Liam would be pulling on their gear.
“Right this way,” Patti sang, pushing open a door to her office.
I stepped inside and blinked. Every inch of the small room was crowded with history. Hockey trophies gleamed from shelves that sagged under their weight, framed photos lined the walls–kids holding medals, whole teams grinning around a banner, coaches hoisting cups. The desk, if you could even call it that, was buried under stacks of paper, sign-up sheets, and a teetering pile of clipboards. I wasn’t sure how she managed to find anything in here, but the space felt lived-in, full of heart.
Patti dropped into the chair behind the chaos with a dramatic sigh, then looked up at me with a warm grin. “Alright, Harper. Let’s make this official.”
