Page 47 of Almost Ours
The three of us congregated in the kitchen, descending on the counter like a tornado. Popcorn, chips and candy bowls flew left and right while Nina, in typical Nina fashion, hauled out her blender and limes.
I raised an eyebrow. “Margaritas?”
“Harper,” she said solemnly, salting the rims of glasses with laser focus, “when Shane is involved, margaritas arealwaysnecessary.”
“Hey,” Shane protested as he walked into the kitchen, a bag of chips in one hand and a bottle of soda in the other. “I’m delightful. Tell her, Ryan.”
Ryan grinned. “You’re definitely something.”
Nina smirked. “Exactly. And ‘something’ requires tequila.”
We finished loading the snacks onto a tray, passing bowls down like a well-oiled machine. Ryan grabbed the popcorn and led the way back to the living room, laughing as Liam tried to trip him with a blanket. I followed with drinks in hand, watching as Connor beamed up at him like he’d hung the moon.
Even with all the chaos, the noise, and Nina’s constant side-eyes. I felt… good. Lighter. And as I settled onto the couch, a bowl of candy in my lap and Ryan beside me, I thought that maybe these kinds of nights were the ones worth remembering.
The muffledsounds of raised voices pulled me from the edge of sleep. I blinked up at the ceiling, heart kicking up, unsure what had stirred me at first. Then it came again–a sharp voice, too loud, too close.
I frowned and sat up slowly, careful not to disturb anyone. Ryan was still asleep beside me, one arm slung across his eyes, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Shane was out cold in the recliner, head tilted back at an impossible angle. The boys were sprawled across the living room floor in their makeshift blanket fort, limbs tangled together like sleepy puppies.
The house was still dim, the only light coming from the twinkle of Christmas decorations and the faint grey glow of dawn leaking through the windows.
I glanced at the clock on the wall. 6:02 am. Way too early for anyone to be yelling.
Wrapping my blanket around my shoulders, I padded across the floor, trying to avoid creaky floorboards, and made my way to the front window.
Outside the world looked frozen in time. Snow blanketed the ground in thick drifts, the trees bending slightly beneath the fresh weight. The sky was still a pale blue-grey, the kind that promised more snow, and the street was hushed, untouched by plows or footsteps.
Except for them.
I spotted Nina immediately, standing near the porch steps, her back stiff, arms crossed. The woman in front of her–wild gestures, tense posture–looked eerily familiar. Even in the dim light, I could see the resemblance. The same sharp cheekbones, the same chestnut curls, an almost identical match to Liam’s.
His mother.
I hesitated, my pulse kicking up. The woman’s voice was high-pitched, slurred, and edged with frustration.
“I have every right to see him!” she shouted. “You think you can just shut me out? Like you’re so much better than me?”
Nina didn’t flinch. “You’re drunk,” she said, her voice low but steady, shaking with restraint. “Go home,now.”
I took a step toward the door, instinct overriding caution. Whatever was happening, Nina didn’t deserve to face it alone. Just as my fingers brushed the knob, a hand landed on my shoulder.
Startled, I turned to find Shane behind me, his expression unreadable, eyes locked on the scene outside.
“I’ll handle it,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “Stay in here.”
Before I could protest, he moved past me, his broad frame filling the doorway as he moved onto the porch. The snow swallowed the sound of his footsteps, the weight of his presence unmistakable.
“Nina asked you to leave,” Shane said, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “You’re not welcome here.”
The woman’s hands flew to her hips, her stance defiant as her gaze snapped to him. Her eyes narrowed, a flash of recognition sparking. “Oh, look who it is. Shane O’Connell,” she sneered, her words thick with disdain. “Still playing the town hero, huh? Thought you’d moved on from babysitting other people’s messes.”
Shane’s jaw tightened, but his voice remained calm. “Not here to play games, Lily. You’ve been told to leave. Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”
Lily let out a bitter laugh, throwing her hands in the air. “Of course you’re on her side. You’ve always been on Nina’s side. Everyone is. Poor, perfect Nina.” She swayed slightly, a mocking smirk twisting her features. “What, did she call you in as backup to keep me away from my own son?”
Nina inhaled sharply, her shoulders tensing. Shane stepped forward before she could speak.
“You need to stop,” he said, his tone steady, unwavering. “This isn’t the time or place, and you know it.”
