Page 49 of Almost Ours
I shrugged again, this time not bothering to hide my smile. “Had some time before the game. Figured I’d help.”
Her eyes flicked over my face, searching for some kind of hidden motive. “You know, it’s okay to let me handle things on my own.”
“And it’s okay for you to let someone help once in a while.”
She huffed, shaking her head. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” I agreed easily. “But you’re still thanking me.”
She opened her mouth–probably to argue–but before she could, a blur of motion came barrelling toward her.
“Mom! Did you see me?!”
Connor. His face was still flushed from the game, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges. He skidded to a stop in front of Harper, eyes bright with excitement. “Did you see my shot? And when Coach Shane told me to block that pass? And when–”
“Woah, slow down,” Harper laughed, ruffling his hair. “I saweverything, and you were amazing.”
Connor beamed. “Really?”
“Really. You were all over the ice out there.”
His chest puffed up with pride, making it impossible not to grin.
“I think you might be giving Coach Shane a run for his money,” I said, grinning.
Connor turned to me, wide-eyed. “You really think so?”
Before I could answer, Shane walked up, still holding a clipboard, and clapped me on the back–just hard enough to make my lingering headache spike.
“Don’t go inflating his ego too much, Barzal. I’ve had enough competition in my career without a ten-year-old gunning for my titles.”
Connor beamed. “I wouldn’t take your titles, Coach. I’d take Ryan’s.”
Shane let out a sharp laugh. “Smart kid.”
Before I could fire back, Nina appeared beside Harper, arms crossed, one brow arched as she leveled Shane with a look.
“Let me guess,” she said dryly. “You’re complaining instead of celebrating?”
Shane smirked, but something about the way he looked at her was… different. Less of his usual cocky banter, more something else. Softer. More careful. Like he was holding something back–like there was an entire conversation happening between them that no one else could hear.
Nina, usually quick with a sharp retort, only rolled her eyes and muttered, “Typical,” before turning toward Harper and Connor. Something was off. The usual fire in her voice wasn’t there. And I wasn’t the only one who noticed.
Before I could dwell on it, Liam came bursting out of the dressing room, his hockey bag bouncing against his side as he struggled to adjust the strap over his shoulder.
“Did you guys see that game?!” he asked, his grin wide as he looked up at Nina.
“You were great out there, dude,” Nina said, already steering him toward the doors.
Connor trailed close behind, cheeks red from the post-game high. “That last goal was sick, Liam!”
As they started down the hall, Harper followed a step behind, shifting her bag higher on her shoulder. That’s when something slipped from her coat pockets–black gloves.
I bent down and picked them up. “Hey, Harper,” I called, holding them out.
She stopped and turned, her eyes flicking to mine before dropping to the gloves in my hand. A piece of hair had fallen loose from her messy ponytail, and she tucked it back with a quiet breath.
“Oh,” she said, walking back a few steps. “Thanks.”
