Page 154 of Almost Ours
You’ve made this mistake before,my mind reminded me.Remember Reid. Remember the promises he made. You can’t afford to let yourself believe that again.
I don’t know how long I sat there, drowning in the chaos of my own heart. The tears wouldn’t stop, streaming until my chest ached, until it felt like my soul was being wrung out. Then–suddenly–I went still. The tears stopped–not because I found clarity, not because the pain eased, but because I forced myself to believe this was the right choice.
If I kept crying, I wasn’t even sure anymore what I was mourning. Was it the loss of him? Of us? Or was it the bitter realization that I’d let myself fall for another man who kept things from me, who lied in his silence? My stomach turned with shame, my throat tight with the question I couldn’t escape: had I been a fool all over again?
The quiet that followed wasn’t peace. It was emptiness. A hollow space where love had been, replaced by the weight of doubt and the sting of my own choices.
That night stretched out in a blur–minutes dragging into hours, sleep coming in restless, broken fragments. When the sun finally crept through the curtains the next morning, I dragged myself out of bed, exhaustion sinking into my bones like lead. My body ached from tension, my eyes swollen and raw. Even breathing felt heavier, like the weight of last night was still pressing down on my chest.
I moved through the motions of getting up, barely registering the world around me. When I checked my phone, there it was–a message from Ryan.
Ryan: Harper, I’m sorry for everything. I should’ve told you sooner, and I hate that I hurt you. Please, don’t shut me out. I love you. We can get through this. I can’t lose you.
I stared at the words for a long time, my heart aching with every single one. A part of me wanted to believe him, to take the comfort in what he was offering. But another part of me was still too raw, too tangled in the hurt to respond. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
Instead, I sent a quick text to Nina, letting her know I’d pick up Connor in a few hours. Then, I turned my phone off, shutting out the world for a little while. I grabbed my coffee, hands wrapped tightly around the warmth of the mug, hoping it would anchor me. When I lifted it to my lips, though, the bitterness curled in my stomach, suddenly unbearable. I set it down, untouched, the thought of finishing it making my chest tighten.
Everything felt off-kilter. Like the ground beneath me had shifted, and I wasn’t sure if I could find my way back to solid ground.
The weightof last night settled heavily on my chest as I sat on the edge of the couch, staring at the sunlight spilling through the window. Connor was sprawled on the floor, his toy cars lined up in an elaborate racetrack he’d built out of books and cardboard. He was so at peace, so blissfully unaware of the storm I was about to unleash. My heart twisted painfully.
I swallowed hard. How do I do this?
“Connor, can you come sit with me for a second?”
He glanced up, curiosity flashing in his bright eyes. “Okay!” he bounded up, climbing onto the couch beside me without hesitation.
I took a slow, steadying breath, my hands already trembling in my lap. How do you explain something so complicated to someone so innocent? “Buddy, I need to talk to you about something. It’s… it’s about Ryan.”
His face lit up instantly. “Ryan? Is he coming over tonight? Can we make burgers again? He promised next time he’d teach me that flip thing he does on the grill!”
God, this was going to hurt. “No, sweetheart, he’s not coming over tonight.” My voice cracked slightly, and I cleared my throat, forcing myself to meet his gaze. “Ryan and I… we’re not going to be together anymore.”
Connor’s brows knitted together in confusion. “What do you mean? Like… not together-together?” He hesitated, his voice laced with worry. “But you love Ryan. And he loves us.”
Those words. I’d been bracing myself for them, but hearing them out loud shattered something inside me. Tears burned the back of my eyes, and I blinked rapidly, trying to hold them back. “I know, honey. And you’re right, Ryan does love us. But… sometimes, even when people love each other, things just don’t work out the way we want them to.”
His confusion shifted, his features scrunching in frustration. “But he’s good to us! He protects us! He loves you, Mom! Why can’t he stay?”
I reached for him, but he pulled away, his hands balling into fists. His breath hitched, and I could see the exact moment realization set in–that no matter how much he fought it, I wasn’t going to change my mind.
His reaction was everything I feared and everything I knew I deserved.
“It’s not that simple,” I said, my voice trembling. “Ryan is a wonderful person, and he cares about us so much. But right now, I have to make decisions that are best for us as a family. And this is… this is what I feel is right.”
“It’s not right!” Connor shouted, tears spilling from his eyes. “Ryan is our family, too! Why are you making him go away?”
That broke me.
My resolve crumbled as I pulled him into my arms, holding him tightly as he sobbed against my chest. His fingers clutched at my shirt like he was trying to hold on to something slipping through his grasp.
Because he was right. Ryanwasour family.
Even before we’d put a name on it, he’d been there. Like he’d always belonged. Connor never had to question it. He never wondered where Ryan fit, because to him, Ryan had already been woven into the fabric of our lives.
And now here I was, tearing it apart.
I pressed my lips to Connor’s hair, the weight of it nearly suffocating. “I’m so sorry, baby.” I whispered, my voice breaking. “I know this is hard. I wish I could make it easier.”
