Page 74 of Almost Ours
That left just me and Harper. She let out a breath, her mouth tugging into a reluctant smile.
“He’s passionate,” I said, watching the top of Connor’s head bob between players before the door shut.
“You’re telling me,” she said. “You should’ve seen the meltdown when the doctor said he couldn’t play this weekend. You’d think the guy told him he’d never play again.”
I chuckled. “I get it. I’ve been there. When you love the game that much, nothing feels worse than being told you can’t be out there.”
She tilted her head, studying me. “Is that why you left? The NHL? You were told you couldn’t play anymore?”
Something in my chest tightened, the easy humour slipping from my face before I could stop it. “Something like that,” I said, my voice lower than I meant.
The truth sat heavy in the back of my throat, but I swallowed it down. I wasn’t ready to give that part of myself to Harper–not yet. My past wasn’t something I was proud of, and it sure as hell wasn’t the person I was anymore. Telling her everything now would feel like handing her a loaded weapon before I even knew if she wanted to keep me around. And if there was even the smallest chance–if I even had a shot with her–I wasn’t about to ruin it before it started.
I shifted my weight, forcing my tone lighter, searching for an escape hatch from the conversation. “So… what are you guys ordering for dinner tonight?”
Her brows pulled together. “What?”
“It’s Friday,” I said, trying for casual. “I thought you didn’t cook on Friday’s?”
A laugh slipped out of her, soft and warm, easing the tension in my shoulders. “Oh, right. Yeah. We’re picking up pizza on the way home and having a movie night.”
“That sounds like fun,” I said.
She hesitated, her gaze lingering on me like she was weighing something. “You should come by. If you want.”
I fought to keep my tone even, like my heart wasn’t suddenly pounding in my ears. “Yeah… sounds great. I’ll just go home, change into something more comfortable, and then head over.”
Inside, though?
I was grinning like an idiot.
By the timeI knocked on Harper’s door, Connor was already shouting my name from somewhere inside.
“Coach Ryan! You’re late!”
Harper opened the door with a smirk. “He’s been watching the clock like it’s game seven.”
“He’s got high standards,” I said, stepping in with a plastic bag of gummy worms, sour keys, and a family-sized bag of popcorn and M&M’s.
The warmth of the house hit me first–and then the smell. Cinnamon. Vanilla. Something sweet lingering in the air, curling around me like a memory. “Smells good in here,” I said, glancing toward the kitchen.
Connor appeared in the hallway, eyes zeroing in on the bag in my hand. “That’s because my mom’s been baking like crazy this week.”
Harper rolled her eyes, but there was a faint flush in her cheeks. “Benny started teaching me how to bake right before Connor’s accident–so I could actually do more than just man the counter and smile at customers. Since I’ve been home with Connor this week and not working, I’ve been trying to keep practicing so I’m not completely useless when I go back on Monday.”
I smiled at the thought–Harper in the kitchen, flour on her cheek, hair pulled back, Connor sneaking tastes of whatever she was making. “Pretty sure you just made it impossible for anyone in this house to complain about you working.”
Connor grinned. “Did you bring snacks?”
“Only the best,” I said, holding out the bag.
He snatched it and bolted toward the living room.
Harper laughed. “You just made his entire night.”
We moved to the living room, where a mountain of blankets and pillows transformed the couch into a makeshift fort. Connor was already pressing play on some animated movie I’d neverheard of but would pretend to enjoy. Harper sat on the edge of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, and patted the seat beside her.
“Brave enough to survive a movie night with us?”
