Chapter 39
It had been over a month since everything happened–since the chaos, the fear, and the uncertainty that had shaken us all to our core.
Slowly, things were starting to feel like they were getting back to normal.
Harper was healing, physically and emotionally, and Connor was beginning to show signs of his usual, spirited self. But today, something felt off.
The engine hummed softly as I pulled up to Harper’s house.
The late afternoon sun cast warm golden rays across the yard, and I spotted Connor’s bike lying on its side near the porch steps, a familiar sign of his busy afternoon.
When I knocked and Harper opened the door, she greeted me with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Hey,” I said, stepping inside. “Where’s the little hockey star? We’re gonna be late for tryouts if we don’t get a move on.”
Harper sighed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “That’s the thing. He says he doesn’t want to go.”
I frowned, glancing toward the staircase. “Doesn’t want to go? This is Connor we’re talking about. Hockey is his favourite thing in the world.”
“I know,” she said, her voice tinged with worry. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
Her eyes searched mine, full of concern. I could see how much this was weighing on her. Connor had always lived and breathed hockey–him backing out of something he loved didn’t sit right with either of us.
“I’ll talk to him,” I said, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze before heading upstairs.
I knocked gently on Connor’s door before pushing it open. He was sitting cross-legged on his bed, staring at the floor, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. He didn’t look up when I stepped inside, though his shoulders stiffened slightly, as if he’d been expecting this conversation.
“Hey, bud,” I said, easing myself onto the edge of the bed. “What’s going on? Why don’t you want to go to tryouts?”
He shrugged, still not meeting my eyes.
“Connor,” I said softly, leaning forward so I was in his line of sight. “Come on, talk to me. You’ve been buzzing about these tryouts for weeks. What changed?”
For a moment, I thought he wouldn’t answer. But then he mumbled, his voice so quiet I almost missed it, “I don’t want to leave Mom.”
The words hit me like a punch to the gut.
“You don’t want to leave her?” I echoed gently, coaxing him to explain.
He nodded, his head still down. “What if… what if he comes back?” His voice cracked, and he swallowed hard before continuing. “I wasn’t here last time, and he hurt her really bad. What if it happens again, and I’m not there to stop him?”
My chest tightened, anger bubbling beneath the surface–not at Connor, but at Reid, for leaving this kid with such a heavy burden to carry. I reached out and put a hand on Connor’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Connor,” I said softly, “look at me.”
He hesitated, then finally lifted his gaze. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face etched with worry far beyond his years.
“I get it,” I said, keeping my voice calm and steady. “I understand why you feel this way. I really do. Because, I feel the same.”
His bottom lip trembled, and he blinked rapidly, trying to hold back tears.
“But you know what?” I continued, my voice gentle yet firm.
“It’s not your job to take care of your mom.
Your mom? She’s strong–one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.
She’s been through so much, and she’s still standing, still smiling, still being the amazing mom you know.
She doesn’t need anyone to take care of her all the time because she’s that strong. ”
Connor looked at me, his brow furrowing slightly as he processed my words.
“But,” I added gently, “even strong people need help sometimes. And that’s where I come in.
I’m here to help take care of her when she needs it, just like I’ll be here to help take care of you.
That’s what we do for the people we love–we look out for each other.
So while your mom doesn’t need you to protect her, she does need you to just be you.
To be her kid. To laugh and play hockey and do all the things that make her proud of you every single day. ”
His frown eased slightly, and he blinked back tears. “But what if something happens again?” he asked, his voice trembling.
I squeezed his shoulder. “Then I’ll be here to make sure she’s okay. I promise you, Connor, I’ve got her back, and I’ve got yours, too. You don’t have to be the protector. That’s not your job. You’re ten years old–”
“Almost eleven,” he corrected, his voice barely a whisper.
“Right,” I said with a smile. “Almost eleven.”
He stared at me for a long moment, processing my words. Then, slowly, he nodded, his shoulders finally relaxing. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” I said firmly. “Your mom’s got this, and so do I. I won’t ever leave you guys, I promise.”
Connor didn’t respond right away. He stared at me for another long moment before finally leaning forward and wrapping his arms around my neck. I hugged him tightly, my chest aching for everything this kid had been through.
After a while he pulled back, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Then… I guess we’re like… a family.”
Those words hit me straight in the chest, and I couldn’t help but grin. I ruffled his hair affectionately. “Yeah, bud. Just like a family.”
His smile grew a little wider. “Okay. I think I want to go to tryouts now.”
“Good,” I said, standing up and holding out a hand to him. “Let’s go show them what you’ve got.”
As we headed back downstairs, Harper was waiting by the door, her arms crossed and a curious expression on her face. Connor darted past her, grabbing his gear, and she stopped him just before he reached the door.
“Hey, bud,” she said, crouching down to his level. She opened her arms, and he stepped into her embrace, holding onto her like he didn’t want to let go.
“Kick butt out there, okay?” she said, squeezing him gently.
He pulled back, just enough to look her in the eyes, his smile a little less uncertain. “I will, Mom. I promise.”
Harper ruffled his hair affectionately before giving him one last hug. As Connor dashed off, she straightened up and turned to me, her eyebrows raised.
“What did you say to him?” she asked, her voice light but still laced with concern.
I just smiled and shrugged. “Family stuff.”
Her expression softened, and for a moment, our eyes met, sharing something unspoken. Family stuff, indeed.
The hum of the arena buzzed in the background as I leaned against the boards, watching Connor skate out onto the ice. He was small compared to the older kids, his slight frame standing out among the bigger, more developed players. The second the drills started, though, it was like he transformed.
That kid was fast. His edges were crisp, and the way he handled the puck–his stick practically danced. Even against kids a few years older, he was holding his own. Hell, he was more than holding his own, he was standing out.
I couldn’t stop the pride swelling in my chest. Ten years old, the youngest out there, and he was easily in the top five of the group. I didn’t want to get ahead of myself, but damn, this kid had something special.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, snapping a few pictures and videos for Harper. She was finally out of her sling, thank God, but she had been hoping for a quiet afternoon to herself. I’d offered to take Connor to tryouts, knowing she could use the break.
Connor skated past, eyes lit up as he scored in the drill. I couldn’t help but grin and give him a thumbs-up when he looked my way.
As I checked the photos, I noticed a text from Kyle.
Kyle: How’s Harper doing?
My chest tightened at the sight of his name.
Kyle had been one of the first to check in after everything went down, texting every couple of days to see how she was doing.
Shane, too, had practically made himself a permanent fixture at Harper’s place, dropping off food, fixing things around the house, and just being there, even when I wasn’t around.
It hit me again, the guilt that never really went away. Kyle cared. Shane cared. They all did. And here I was, carrying around this massive secret about Kyle, still unable to bring myself to tell her.
I should’ve told her months ago. Hell, I shouldn’t have kept it from her in the first place. There had been many opportunities for me to share. She deserved to know. Every time I thought about bringing it up, though, I froze.
And now? Now it felt impossible.
The longer I waited, the harder it became. She’d been through so much–recovering from Reid, trying to get her life back on track. I couldn’t dump this on her while she was still healing. That’s what I keep telling myself, anyway. But the truth sat heavy in my chest, like a weight I couldn’t shake.
She deserved honesty. She deserved someone who didn’t keep things from her.
I stared at my phone, at Kyle’s name on the screen, and sighed. I had to tell her. It was just a matter of how–and when.
Out on the ice, Connor was skating hard, focused and determined. He was fearless, completely in his element.
I envied that about him–his ability to just throw himself into something, not holding back, not second-guessing.
Maybe it was time I took a page out of his book.
I locked my phone and shoved it back into my pocket, making a mental note to deal with the conversation later. For now, I needed to focus.
Connor’s little figure darted across the ice again, a blur of motion. The kid had potential–more than just raw talent, but drive. A desire to be better, to push himself. He didn’t hesitate, even when it was hard, even when the odds were stacked against him.
Maybe I could learn to be more like him in that way. Maybe it was time to stop holding back, to stop second-guessing myself, and just face what needed to be said.
The drive home was quiet, yet warm, the kind of comfortable silence that made me feel like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Outside, April sunlight spilled across the street, melting the last stubborn patches of snow into thin streams that trickled toward the ditch.
The trees were still bare, but hints of green were starting to push through along the edges of the fields, the first real promise that winter was finally giving up.
In the backseat, Connor was buzzing from his tryout, replaying his best moves in his head–I could tell by the way he kept grinning to himself in the rearview mirror. Hockey season might have been winding down for most, but for him, spring hockey was just beginning.
When we pulled into Harper’s driveway, I helped Connor get his gear out of the truck and walked him inside. Harper greeted us at the door, her smile lighting up the room like it always did. Dinner was waiting–spaghetti, Connor’s favourite–and I stayed without a second thought.
After Connor went to bed, exhausted from his big day, Harper and I settled onto the couch. A movie played softly in the background, but I wasn’t really paying attention. Her head was resting against my chest, her body warm and soft against mine.
I wasn’t sure how long we sat there, just like that, when she tilted her head up to look at me. Her eyes, those deep expressive eyes, held something I couldn’t quite name–something soft but determined.
“Ryan,” she whispered, her voice barely audible, before she leaned forward and pressed her lips to mine.
The kiss started gentle, her lips moving against mine in a way that sent a rush of warmth through me. But then it deepened. Her mouth opened slightly, inviting me in, and when I felt her tongue brush against mine, a low growl escaped my throat.
She nipped at my bottom lip, and everything shifted. My hands gripped her waist, pulling her closer as the kiss turned fiery, her body pressing against mine. Her fingers tangled in my hair, and I couldn’t help but trail my lips down her neck, leaving a line of heated kisses along her soft skin.
Before I knew it, she had shifted, pulling herself onto my lap so that she was straddling me.
Her hands slid under my shirt, her touch scorching as she traced the lines of my chest. I kissed her harder, my hands exploring the curve of her hips, her thighs, everything I’d been holding back for so long.
Her hands moved to my pants, tugging them down just enough. I felt her align herself with me, and when she sank onto me, both of us gasped.
“I love you so fucking much.” I murmured, my voice rough with need as she began to move, her head falling back as we lost ourselves in each other.
Every sensation was heightened, every touch electric. We moved together, perfectly in sync, and when we both came undone, it was nothing short of explosive.
She stayed on my lap, her breathing heavy, her forehead resting against mine. My hands gripped her hips, holding her as if she might disappear.
I couldn’t lose this. I couldn’t lose her.
As she pressed a soft kiss to my lips, the guilt I’d been carrying around all afternoon tightened in my chest. I knew I had to tell her the truth about Kyle. Looking at her now, though, feeling her warmth, I couldn’t bring myself to risk it.
I’d almost lost her once.
There was no way I was losing her again.