Page 41 of Almost Ours
“So,” Shane said, clapping his hands together once, “everyone’s coming to the hockey Christmas party at the end of the month, right?”
Harper’s head tilted. “The what?”
Shane’s eyes lit up. “The hockey Christmas party. Biggest event of the year. No kids, catered dinner, open bar, fancy dresses, questionable dance moves. It’s been happening since I was a kid–back then it was potluck and beer in someone’s basement. Now? It’s borderline black-tie and half the town still manages to wake up hungover.”
“It’s wild,” Nina added with a knowing smile. “I already have my dress picked out. You’re definitely coming, Harper.”
Shane nodded toward me. “What about you, Barzal? Or are you gonna bail again like last year?”
I shrugged. “I hadn’t started coaching yet, last year. Didn’t really know anyone.”
“Yeah, well,” Shane said, “this year, no excuses. It’s tradition.”
Harper’s gaze met mine for the briefest moment, her lips curved just slightly, like she was holding back a smile.
The rest of the evening blurred in the best way–snow maze races, candy apple bribes, carnival games rigged beyond reason. Laughter echoed through the crisp air, their mittened hands sticky from cocoa and cotton candy.
The sky had started to darken, that deep indigo-blue settling over the town as the crowd made its way toward the beach. Kids ran ahead, laughter and boots crunching on packed snow, while parents followed at a more reasonable pace.
Connor and Liam were already halfway down the path, racing to claim the “best spot” like it was life or death. Shane trailed behind them with a hot pretzel in one hand and zero sense of urgency, his tall frame moving at an unbothered pace. His black jacket stood out against the snow-dusted ground, andhis red hair practically glowed under the glow of the string lights, a beacon of laid-back chaos in the winter crowd.
Harper slid onto the blanket beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating off her, though she kept just enough distance to avoid touching. Her gaze stayed fixed on the horizon, where the sky was starting to deepen into twilight.
The space between us crackled with everything unsaid.
I didn’t move. Didn’t speak.
Neither did she.
The awareness between us thrummed, a quiet tension just under the surface. Like we were both tuned to the same frequency, pretending not to hear the static.
Her knee brushed against mine once, a shift of weight, and she pulled it back almost instantly. I told myself it was nothing. A coincidence. But it still sent a ripple through me.
The first firework exploded in the sky, a burst of red that lit up the beach in a flickering glow. Cheers went up from the crowd, but I barely noticed.
I glanced at Harper out of the corner of my eye. The soft glow of the fireworks still lingered on her face, highlighting the gentle curve of her smile as she laughed at something Nina said to Liam. There was warmth in her expression, but also something quieter–something careful, like she was constantly making sure everyone else was okay.
The last sparks fizzled into the night, and the crowd stirred, folding blankets, shaking out chairs, and murmuring about heading home. Harper stood, brushing sand off her jeans, and I followed her lead. Sitting next to her during the fireworks, feeling the warmth of her body so close to mine, had unraveled me completely. I was a live wire, every nerve hyper aware of her.
“We should go check out the gingerbread competition,” Harper said, her voice light yet hopeful. “Connor will want to see if his house won.”
“Yeah,” I said, falling into step beside her.
Connor and Liam were already ahead of us, weaving through the crowd, with Nina and Shane trailing behind. Harper and I walked side by side, our arms brushing every so often–just enough to drive me insane, just enough to make me crave more.
By the time we reached the judging area, a small stage had been set up, with rows of gingerbread houses proudly displayed for the crowd. Right in the middle sat Connor’s creation, and I had to admit it looked damn good.
We arrived just as a woman with a clipboard–Margie, according to her name tag–stepped onto the stage to announce the winners.
“In third place, we have Frosty’s winter Wonderland!” she called, and a polite ripple of applause spread through the crowd.
Connor grabbed my sleeve, practically vibrating with excitement. “We’ve got this. I know we do.”
I grinned down at him. “You called it earlier, didn’t you?”
The second place winner was announced.
Connor held his breath, eyes wide and locked on the stage. I could feel the anticipation buzzing off him, like he needed this win more than just a ribbon and a gift bag.
