Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
HARRISON
I’m in a shit mood.
Not a cranky mood.
Not a bad-day mood.
An I-might-break-my-stick-over-someone’s-head mood.
Which is why the universe clearly hates me, because right now I’m sitting at a long table in the conference room with my teammates—Oliver, Bodhi, August, Ledger, Barrett, and Griffin—signing hundreds of mini sticks and pucks for the kids’ final youth league day.
I choke the marker too tightly and drag a line across the table instead of the puck I was aiming for.
“Jesus Christ,” Oliver says, leaning over to inspect it. “You planning to vandalize the furniture too, or is that just a fun bonus for today?”
“Shut up,” I grunt.
Every few seconds, one of the sharpies squeaks against the plastic because I’m pressing too damn hard.
“You know, if you keep gripping that marker like that,” he adds, “it’s gonna file a lawsuit.”
I don’t look up. “Then it can get in line.”
Bodhi leans his chair back, balancing on two legs like an idiot. “Anyone else feel like they’re sitting next to a ticking bomb? No? Just me?”
August mutters, “Not just you, bro.” He gently pushes another stack of mini sticks my way. “Here, uh, maybe focus on these. Low risk. Harder to snap.”
I take one from the pile, snap it in half, and toss it to the floor just because I can. August merely scoffs and shakes his head without another word. Griffin signs a puck, tosses it into the “finished” bin, and clears his throat from across the table.
“So. You gonna tell us what’s going on? Or should we start placing bets?”
Barrett points his marker at him. “Dude. This is not a betting situation.”
Ledger looks between all of us. “Are we sure? Because last time Harrison looked like this, it was after he found out the team shop put his jersey on a clearance rack.”
“I WAS COMING OFF AN INJURY,” I bark.
Every head snaps up.
Oliver lifts his hands in surrender. “Noted. No jokes about clearance jerseys. Or injuries. Or, uh…anything.”
For half a minute, the only noise is the sound of markers clicking against merch.
I try not to think about anything but I’m doing a shit job of it, unsurprisingly. I try not to see Harper’s face when she finally told me the truth about Connor but that doesn’t work either.
I try not to hear her voice. “I didn’t want you to throw your dreams away all because we made a mistake.”
A fucking mistake.
She walked away.
Threw me away like I was a fucking mistake.
Like our son was a mistake.
I’m a goddamn cyclone of emotions, each one crashing into the other.
The anger, the hurt, and the bewilderment all fighting for space in my chest, tangled up with the tiniest flickers of hope.
I wanted to be a father someday. Hell, there was a day I even saw myself having kids with Harper.
I just never envisioned life handing me a ten-year-old and the woman I once loved with my whole heart.
Finally, August leans forward, forearms on the table, his voice low and soft. “Harrison, talk to us, bro. What happened? Something’s…different. And not just bad mood different.”
I drag both hands over my face. It’s pointless to try to keep all my thoughts inside, because I can’t scrub the last forty-eight hours out of my brain.
“I talked to Harper.”
Oliver whistles low under his breath. “Oh, shit. Okay. Keep going. Did it not go well?”
I swallow hard, the words scraping against the back of my throat as I say, “She confirmed it.”
Griffin sets down his marker. “Connor.”
My throat tightens as I nod.
Ledger leans back slowly, eyes wide. “So, it’s…official. You have a son.”
“Yeah.” My voice cracks in the middle, which is humiliating on at least twelve levels. “It’s official.”
For a moment, none of them speak, like the weight of that truth has settled over the entire room.
Then Bodhi says gently, “Man…I’m really sorry. That’s a lot.”
I shake my head, trying—and failing—to control the burn behind my eyes.
“I don’t know what to fucking feel, you guys.
I mean, he’s my kid for fuck’s sake. My kid.
For ten years I’ve had a kid and I missed all of it.
Every fucking thing. First steps, first words, first time feeling the ice under his feet first…
everything. And every time I picture him now I just—”
I stop, because my voice is about to break again.
Barrett nods slowly, leaning forward. “And Harper?”
That’s another knife to the ribs.
“She didn’t tell me,” I whisper, my throat tightening as tears prick my eyes.
“Ten years. She carried that alone, and I get why she did.” I bury my head in my hands.
“I mean, fuck, no, I don’t understand why.
This is all a motherfucking mess and no matter what I say or what I do nothing makes any of it hurt any fucking less. ”
Griffin shifts in his chair. “So, what now?”
I let out a rough, humorless laugh. “Now? I have no idea. I want to know him. I want to be in his life. But Harper…I think she’s scared.
Rightfully so I suppose, but it’s me we’re talking about.
” I pound my chest with my fist. “ME! We were together for four years. We were solid. I loved her so goddamn much and then she—” I pause, choking on my words.
“And now I’m pissed. And fucking hurt. And everything feels…
fragile as hell and I don’t know what to do. ”
Bodhi pats my shoulder, awkward as a dude who’s never comforted anyone in his life. “Well…I mean…at least he’s cool. You know? He’s a cool kid.”
“He’s a great kid,” I say quietly, my chest clenching. “Smart. Confident. He’s got a raw talent about him. He reminds me of…me. And that’s the part that keeps fucking me up.”
Oliver points his pen at me. “You’re allowed to be mad. You’re allowed to be sad. You’re allowed to be everything at once. But what you can’t do is beat yourself up for something you didn’t know.”
Ledger nods. “And you’re not doing this alone, dude. We’ve got your back.”
Barrett smirks. “Even if you cry on us.”
“But cry and we’re taking photos,” Griffin adds.
“Try it,” I warn.
They laugh, light and stupid, but it cuts the tension enough that for just a second, I can breathe again.
It doesn’t last long though because when Ledger asks, “So I assume Connor doesn’t know that you’re his father?” I start to panic all over again as I toss my marker on the table and stare at Ledger with wide eyes.
“I have no fucking idea.”
“I would think if he knew, he’d be talking about it.” Barrett winks at me in that just-trying-to-be-supportive kind of way. “There’s no doubt the kid idolizes you. If he knew you were his dad I’m pretty damn sure there wouldn’t be a human being in the entire arena that wouldn’t hear about it.”
“Bear’s got a point,” Oliver says, tipping his marker toward me.
I guess they’re right. I should’ve asked Harper last night what her plan was to tell him.
Does she plan on telling him?
“What if Harper doesn’t want to tell him?” I ask the guys, bewildered at the possibility.
“The kid is pretty smart,” Ledger points out. “He could figure it out if he really paid attention. I mean you guys look like the spitting image of each other.”
“What if he asks me?” I push my hand through my hair. “Am I supposed to lie? I don’t want to lie to him. That’s not a good way to start a relationship with anyone.”
“I suppose that’s something you and Harper will have to discuss,” Oliver says.
Fuck.
“Speaking of Harper…” August looks up from the stick he was just signing. “Since she’s here now, and back in your life, do you think you two will—”
“No.” I shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
The table goes silent and when I lift my gaze I notice each of the guys staring at me.
“What?”
Barrett cocks his head. “You loved this woman at one time in your life.”
“Ten fucking years ago.” I scoff. “A lot happens in ten years. People have babies that they don’t tell anyone about for example.”
Griffin winces. “Ouch.”
I slam my fist on the table, making the markers jump.
“Well, what the FUCK does she expect? She didn’t just break my heart.
She goddamn shattered it, ground it into dust, and left me bleeding for years.
Now she waltzes back into my life with MY SON—a kid who has my eyes, my smile, my fucking DNA—and acts like I’m supposed to just nod and say ‘cool, cool, thanks for the decade of lies’?
He’s ten years old for Christ’s sake! Ten birthdays, ten Christmases I can never get back while she’s been playing happy family without me! ”
“Hey guys!” Our heads turn as Ella practically skips into the room. “Are you working hard or hardly working?” She takes one quick sweep of our faces and stops. “Oh…did I just interrupt something?”
“Oh nothing,” Griffin explains. “We’re just helping Harrison here deal with his innermost feelings of anger and despair over learning he does, indeed, have a ten-year old son.”
“And wondering if he still has feelings for the woman who raised him,” August adds.
“Aww, Harrison.” Ella brings a hand to her chest, right over her heart, and then stops next to me placing her other hand on my shoulder. Her expression hopeful.
At least someone is.
“You have a son! You’re a father!”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes. “Some father I am, huh?”
“No, no, no,” she says softly, shaking her head. “You can’t think of it like that. You didn’t know. You can’t spend time faulting yourself for something you were never aware of.”
“See?” Oliver says. “Told you.”
Ella takes a seat on the table right beside me and reaches over to squeeze my hand. “But you can look at this whole thing as an opportunity to be the dad you’ve always wanted to be. You’ve said before that you saw yourself being a dad one day.”
“Yeah, one day.”
“Well, that day is today.” She shrugs. “Sure, maybe it’s sooner than you were expecting or even sooner than you were ready for but that doesn’t change who you are.
It doesn’t change who Harrison Meers is.
You’re a good guy and you’re fantastic with kids.
You’re going to be a great dad. It’s just… in you.”