Page 32 of Almost Ours
“You haven’t,” I said quietly. “Really.”
She looked down, chewing her bottom lip for a second. Then exhaled through her nose.
Connor was still watching her, clutching his stick I hadn’t even seen him grab with hopeful eyes. “Please, Mom? Just for a few minutes.”
Harper didn’t answer right away. Instead, she turned toward the back window, her jaw tight, her fingers tapping against hersleeve. Finally, she let her arms fall to her sides and nodded once–reluctantly.
“Fine. But I’m coming too.”
Connor whooped and raced off to grab his skates.
I grabbed my skates from the truck then followed them out the backyard into the crisp late-afternoon air. The sun was dipping lower now, casting golden light across the snow blanketed yard. A narrow path led down toward a grove of trees, and beyond it, the glint of ice shimmered faintly in the distance.
As we walked, Harper kept a few paces ahead. Her hands were jammed into the pockets of her jacket, her head down. I didn’t speak. Just followed.
“Connor really has been working hard on this shot,” she said finally, her voice quiet.
I nodded. “I’m excited to see it.”
She didn’t look at me, but she slowed just enough that we were walking side by side now.
The trees parted, revealing the small pond nestled at the base of the yard. It wasn’t huge. It was frozen solid, though, the surface smooth and clean with just a few skates’ worth of tracks already etched in.
Connor plopped down on a wooden bench at the edge of the pond, his fingers moving quickly to lace up his skates. His eyes sparkled with anticipation, his grin wide and confident. “You’re going down,” he said, his voice full of determination.
I laughed, taking a seat next to him to tie my own skates. “Oh, is that so?” I teased, grabbing my stick and giving it a little twirl. “We’ll see about that, champ.”
As soon as my skates were laced, Connor was on the ice, gliding out with the ease of a kid who’d spent countless hours practicing. I followed, feeling that familiar rush as my blades hit the smooth surface.
After he showed me his wrist shot, we spent the next twenty minutes playing one-on-one, skating back and forth, firing shots at imaginary nets. Connor was quick, his movements full of youthful energy and surprising skill. I could tell he’d been practicing, and he was good–really good. I had a few tricks up my sleeve too, moves perfected over years of training, and I wasn’t above using them to keep him on his toes.
“No fair!” Connor shouted, laughing as I slipped the puck between his skates and scooped it up on the other side.
“All’s fair in pond hockey,” I called back, grinning as I circled him, dodging his attempt to steal the puck. His laughter echoed across the frozen pond, clear and bright, and for a moment, everything felt simple.
I was mid-turn, puck on my stick, when movement caught my eye.
Harper.
She stood near the edge of the pond, a few feet from the tree line. Her puffy jacket was a deep navy blue, zipped up to her chin, and her blonde hair peeked out from beneath a grey knit toque in soft, tousled strands. The cold had painted her cheeks with a delicate flush, and she had that quiet stillness about her–watchful, cautious.
For a moment, I locked eyes with her, maybe for a second too long.
My blade caught an edge, and I stumbled, barely catching myself before I could faceplant in front of her. Connor didn’t notice–he was already chasing the puck down, laughing like he hadn’t a care in the world. But I caught Harper’s subtle smile, the way one brow lifted as if she’d seen it all.
I cleared my throat and skated back into the game.
We played for another fifteen minutes, Connor calling plays and weaving circles around me. I let him score a few–just enough to keep his ego inflated–but snuck in a cheeky deke ortwo of my own. Every once in a while, I’d glance toward the edge of the pond. Where Harper had shifted her stance slightly, watching with quiet focus.
Eventually, Connor called it. “I’m going in! I wanna finish my LEGO tower before dinner.”
“Good game, bud,” I called as he skated toward the bench, pulling off his gloves.
I stayed back, catching my breath, then slowly glided over to where Harper stood.
She didn’t say anything right away. Just looked out over the ice, her breath fogging softly in the air.
“He loves that pond, eh?” I said.
