Page 40 of Almost Ours
Connor spun toward me, grinning. “Did you see that?!”
“Sure did,” I said, ruffling his hat. “You’ve got an arm on you. Remind me never to piss you off.”
He beamed, already scooping another snowball.
I didn’t even hear her footsteps, just felt something shift, that subtle tug in the air that always seemed to come with her.
Harper was walking toward us, bundled in her coat and scarf, a smile tugging at her lips. It hit me hard, how natural she lookedhere, like she belonged, like this whole place had been waiting for her to arrive.
“Hey,” I called, straightening as she got closer. “We were just about to dominate the snowball toss. Connor’s been training hard.”
She laughed softly, her eyes warm as she joined us. “I can see that.”
“Mom!” Connor turned, practically bouncing in place. “Look what Coach Shane taught me!”
He hurled a snowball at the target and clipped the edge, his grin widening like he’d just nailed a slapshot in overtime.
“Nice shot!” she said, clapping as she stepped up beside me.
“Not bad, huh?” Shane rose from his crouch, brushing snow off his gloves. “Kid’s got a good arm. Looks like hockey’s not the only thing he’s good at.”
Connor beamed under the praise, and I didn’t miss the way Harper’s whole expression softened when she looked at him.
I leaned in a little closer. “Taking a break? Or did Benny finally kick you out of the booth?”
Before she could respond, Shane elbowed me. “So, Harper, who do you think’s got the better aim–me or this guy?”
She arched a brow, pretending to weigh the options. “Hard to say. I haven’t actually seen either of you throw yet.”
“Let’s fix that,” Shane declared, already scooping up a snowball and tossing it to me.
I caught it without thinking, flashing her a smirk. “You’re about to be very impressed.”
We took turns tossing at the target, laughing as snowballs went flying–some hits, some wild misses. Shane nailed one dead center and threw his arms up like he’d just won the Stanley Cup. I shook my head, stepping to the line with mock-serious focus, lining up my shot.
Just as I released it, a familiar voice rang out behind us.
“Is this what you two call coaching the youth of today?”
I turned to see Nina approaching with Liam in tow, her arms crossed, eyebrow raised. Harper smiled wide at the sight of her, and something twisted in my chest at the ease between them.
Liam didn’t hesitate. He bolted toward the growing stash of snowballs, dove straight in like a prize pit, and started arming himself.
“We call it leadership development,” Shane said, totally unfazed. “Teacher perseverance, focus, and how to humiliate your opponent with style.”
“Uh-huh,” Nina shot back, eyes narrowed. “Nothing screams ‘good role model’ like two grown-ass men acting like twelve-year-olds.”
I let out a low laugh, launching another snowball that hit just below the bullseye. “Says the woman who got banned from karaoke night for ‘excessive mic flair.’”
Harper snorted beside me, trying to hide it behind her glove. Nina gasped like I’d slapped her with a snow shovel. “I wasbringing lifeto a tired rendition of ‘Sweet Caroline.’ You’re just jealous.”
Shane didn’t miss a beat. “Flair, huh? Is that what they’re calling off-key screaming now?”
“You didn’t seem to mind when you were singing backup,” Nina shot back, eyes gleaming.
Shane smirked. “Somebody had to save the performance.”
Their banter earned a soft giggle from Harper–quiet and quick, like it slipped out before she could stop it. She pressed her lips together to smother it, eyes still on Nina and Shane, and I found myself watching her instead of the game. She wasn’t looking at me, but I was looking at her, and in that moment, it was like the rest of the festival had faded into the snow.
