Page 75 of Almost Ours
I sank down next to her, our shoulders brushing lightly before I shifted, giving her space. “Only if you promise not to fall asleep halfway through.”
“No promises,” she teased.
About twenty minutes in, Connor glanced at me over a mouthful of gummy worms. “Coach, do you think the team’s gonna win the tournament this weekend?”
I grinned. “I think they’ve got a great shot.”
He nodded firmly. “Good. I’m watching every game, just so you know, since I can’t play.”
“I’d expect nothing less,” I said, but then hesitated. “I won’t be there for the rest of the weekend though. I’m heading to Oakville tomorrow for a few days.” My eyes flicked briefly toward Harper.
“What’s in Oakville?” she asked, her tone casual yet curious.
“Just… going to help a friend,” I said, keeping it vague.
“Cool,” Connor said, leaning back. “Anyway–even though we lost tonight, I think we are for sure going to win. Hey, watch this part. It’s the best.”
Just at theend of the movie, Connor crashed–mid-sentence, mid-gummy worm. Harper plucked the half-chewed candy from his hand and gently tugged the blanket off the back of the couch. With a little sigh, she leaned down, hooking her arms under him to lift.
As soon as she straightened, the weight of him nearly knocked her off balance. She wobbled, stumbling back a step like she might topple onto the couch.
“Woah,” I said, jumping up. “Let me.”
She shook her head stubbornly, but I was already reaching for him. “Seriously, Harper. You’re gonna kill yourself trying to get up those stairs.”
With a soft reluctant sigh, she carefully transferred Connor into my arms.
He was completely out, head flopping against my shoulder, mouth hanging open. For his size, he was surprisingly solid–every ounce of him sinking into me as I carried him up the stairs. He might have been smaller than some kids his age, though he sure didn’t feel like it.
I laid him down in bed, tugged the blanket up to his chin, and ruffled his hair before slipping back out.
When I came down the stairs, Harper was curled up on the couch, her legs tucked under her, waiting. I dropped back down beside her, the warmth of her shoulder brushing mine. For a moment, we just sat there in the flicker glow of the TV, the room quiet except for the distant sound of cartoon explosions.
“You know,” I said, stretching my legs out and popping another piece of cheesy popcorn into my mouth, “for someone who negotiated all of this, your kid really doesn’t know how to pace himself.”
Harper grinned. “He always crashes after the sugar hits.”
“So you’re saying I brought the exact right snacks?”
“I’m saying,” she said, pointing a gummy worm at me, “you are 100% to blame for the chaos that ensued in my living room before the crash.”
“Worth it,” I said, grabbing the worm midair and popping it in my mouth before she could retract her hand.
She gasped. “Did you just steal my gummy worm?”
“That’s what you get for pointing food at me. It’s a hazard.”
“You’re a hazard.”
I smiled and leaned my head back on the couch, feeling lighter than I had in days. “This was a good idea.”
“I have good ideas all the time,” she said, standing up suddenly. “Like right now–I have to pee.”
“Thanks for sharing,” I said dryly, eyes still on the ceiling. “Really painting a picture over there.”
I heard a door open and close, assumed she was heading down the hallway… until I caught the sudden rush of cold air.
Frowning, I sat up. “Wait–”
