Page 169 of Almost Ours
Nina nodded, clearly impressed. “Damn. I’d probably eat shit immediately.”
Kyle smirked. “Most people do their first time,” He paused, then grinned. “Including Ryan.”
That caught my attention. I blinked. “Ryan tried it?”
Kyle let out a short laugh. “Oh yeah. First time I got him in a sled, he wiped out so hard he took me down with him. Arms flailing, gear scattering across the ice. Funniest shit I’ve ever seen.” He shook his head, still grinning at the memory. “He was sore for aweek.”
Nina snorted. “Please tell me there’s a video.”
Kyle laughed. “If there was, I’d have it framed.”
I forced a small smile, trying to focus on the conversation rather than the weight pressing on my chest.Ryan is leaving.
And no one had told me.
Kyle tilted his head slightly, studying me. “Ryan never told you about the work we do together?”
I shook my head, my grip tightening around my glass. “No, he didn’t.”
Kyle looked genuinely surprised. “We’ve been doing it for a couple of years now. It’s something he’s really passionate about. And he’s damn good at it.”
I blinked, trying to absorb his words, but Kyle wasn’t finished. He leaned forward, his expression softening. “After the accident, I wasn’t sure if hockey was going to be part of my life anymore. I mean, it was all I’d ever done, but getting back on theice felt impossible.” His fingers tapped absently against the edge of his beer glass, a flicker of emotion crossing his face.
“Ryan, though…” Kyle shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Ryan wouldn’t let me give it up. He suggested I try sledge hockey. I thought he was crazy at first–how was I supposed to play hockeysitting down? But he kept pushing, kept encouraging me to give it a shot. So, I did.”
“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted, his voice dropping. “It wasinsanelyhard. Sledge hockey is no joke. But being back on the ice, feeling like I could actually play again…” He let out a breath. “It gave me hope.”
I glanced at Nina, who was uncharacteristically quiet, her attention fixed on Kyle.
“Once I got the hang of it,” Kyle continued, “Ryan had this idea–he thought we could build something bigger. A program in my hometown, for kids who wanted to try sledge hockey. He believed there had to be others out there like me, people who just needed a chance to feel like themselves.”
My chest tightened as I listened, the pride in Kyle’s voice unmistakable.
“So, we started recruiting,” he said, his smile widening. “We found kids who were curious, kids who’d never even heard of sledge hockey before. And in just a couple of years, we’ve built something incredible. We have kids driving from four hours away just to attend our training sessions. Some of them have even made it to the national sledge hockey team.”
“Wait,” Nina interrupted, her eyes widening. “Like… theOlympicsnational team?”
Kyle nodded, his grin stretching. “Yeah. Two of our kids competed internationally last year, and a few more are training for a shot at the next Paralympics. It’s unreal.”
My throat felt tight, emotions swirling in my chest.
Ryan had done all this–helped build a program that was changing lives–and I hadn’t known any of it.
Then it hit me. The text.
Last week, Ryan had sent me a message.
Ryan: I have something I’d like to talk to you and Connor about when you have a chance.
I didn’t answer him. Hadn’t thought much about it. But now… now I realized what it must’ve been about.
He wouldn’t leave without telling me–not without telling Connor, for sure.
Why hadn’t he told me about this before? Wasn’t this the kind of thing I should’ve known? Why hadn’t he shared it, especially if it meant so much to him?
I opened my mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Then it hit me again. Every time we’d talked, it was only about Connor. The little updates, the hockey school pick-ups, the schedules. Nothing else, though. Nothing about him. Nothing about Ryan.
It was always about Connor.
