Page 165 of Almost Ours
I raised an eyebrow, mid-bite of my burger. “News?”
Kyle leaned forward, exchanging a glance with Shane like he was about to drop something big. “Yeah. I got a call from the head coach of the national sledge hockey team, Jeff.”
Shane grinned. “This is good, Barzal. Real good.”
Kyle’s excitement was barely contained. “They want me–and you–to work with them at their training camps this summer. Two months of coaching some of the best players in the country. If it goes well, there’s even a shot at a permanent coaching gig. What do you think?”
I froze, the weight of his words settling heavy on my chest. Coaching the national team? That was huge. I’d always loved mentoring players, helping them grow. It had been one of the only things that made sense after I left the league.
Two months, though…
“I don't know,” I said finally, setting my burger down.
Kyle’s smile faltered. “What do you mean, you don’t know? This is an incredible opportunity, Ry. You’d be perfect for it.”
“He’s right,” Shane added, leaning forward.
I ran a hand through my hair. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s just… Harper. And Connor. Things are still so up in the air. I can’t just disappear for two months while I’m trying to fix things.”
Kyle groaned, throwing his head back. “Dude, come on. You think disappearing is worse than staying here, hovering around, hoping Harper magically forgives you? Maybe giving her space isn’t the worst thing.”
I exhaled, my voice quieter now. “I’m giving her space, showing her I’m serious. But if I take off for two months, what does that say? That I don’t care enough to stick around?”
Kyle leaned forward, his voice losing its usual testing edge. “Ry, I get it. I really do. You have to think about what this means for you, though. The camp’s only four hours away. It’s not like you’d be gone forever. You could still come back on weekends, even weeknights if you wanted. And, honestly? Harper might need some space to figure things out on her own. Doesn’t absence make the heart grow fonder?”
Shane smirked, lifting his beer. “Or at least it gives her time to miss you.”
I let out a short laugh, though it felt hollow. “It’s not just about that.” I hesitated, gripping my beer, trying to put words to the feeling that had been gnawing at me ever since Kyle mentioned the job. “Harper’s letting me see Connor more. She’sstarting to trust me with him, even if she’s still pissed. If I leave now, I don’t know if I’ll lose that.” I swallowed hard, my chest tightening. “I don’t want to lose that.”
Kyle’s expression softened. “You won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” I shot back. “It’s taken me this long just to get her to let me help him with a damn school project. If I disappear now, what if she decides it’s easier that way? What if she starts thinking I was never supposed to be in his life at all?”
Kyle sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “Man, you’re already in his life. You think two months is going to erase that? If anything, Harper seeing you show up, put in the effort, and still chase something for yourself might prove to her that you’re serious. That you’re not just sticking around out of guilt.”
Shane nodded. “You’ve done the work, Barzal. Harper might be mad, but she’s not dumb. She knows you care about that kid. Leaving for a couple of months won’t change that.”
I shook my head, staring at the condensation trailing down my glass. “Maybe. Still feels like a risk, though.”
Kyle shrugged, his expression thoughtful. “Look, no one’s saying you have to decide right now. Just think about it, okay? Give Jeff a call. This could be huge for you. And for the record, I think Harper would want you to do it. She cares about you, even if she’s mad right now.”
I nodded slowly, though my thoughts were still tangled.
The conversation shifted after that, slipping into easier territory. We laughed about Shane’s disastrous first attempt at snowboarding and Kyle’s ridiculous ability to lose his phone in the most improbable places.
By the time we ordered another round, the weight in my chest had eased. Sitting there with Shane and Kyle, trading stories and banter, I realized how much I’d missed this.
Between spending the afternoon with Connor and now being here with my best friends, it was the first time in over a monthI felt like myself again. Things weren’t perfect–far from it–but for the first time in a long time, I let myself hope. Maybe, just maybe, things would be okay.
The house wasquiet when I got home, save for the faint hum of the refrigerator and the creak of the floorboards beneath my feet. I tossed my keys on the counter, grabbed a glass of water, and headed to my room, exhaustion settling into my bones. Though it wasn’t the kind that sleep could fix.
I stretched out on the bed, staring at the ceiling, Kyle’s words echoing in my mind.
“It’s only two months, Ry. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, right?”
I blew out a slow breath. The offer was incredible. Working with the national sledge hockey team? That was a dream–something I never thought would even be on the table. Coaching had always been my passion, and to do it at that level? It felt almost too good to be true.
The second I let myself picture it–being on the ice, helping those players hone their skills, being part of something bigger–I saw Connor’s face. Then Harper’s. And just like that, the excitement twisted into dread.
