Chapter 7 #2
She speaks so matter-of-factly it’s as if she’s always known my fate. “And what about his mother? This is the Harper you’ve been talking about forever? The one who loves romcoms? I remember you telling us about her.”
I huff a short laugh but I don’t smile. “Yeah. She used to drive me crazy with her love of romcoms.”
“So, there are still feelings there?”
“I don’t see how there could be now,” I tell her. “Not after what she’s done.”
“What she’s done?” Ella tips her head. “You mean raise your son—on her own, I might add—to be a perfectly respectable, well-balanced kid with a love of hockey and an obvious talent on the ice unlike any of the other kids in the youth league?”
I let out a frustrated sigh. “I see what you’re doing, Ella but that doesn’t negate the fact that she kept him from me all this time.”
“Let me ask you something,” she says as the guys listen in. “Take your son out of the equation for just a moment. Pretend he doesn’t exist.”
“But he—”
“Ah-ah-ah.” She waves her finger in front of me.
“For just a second, he doesn’t. Pretend for a moment that the woman you were head over heels in love with years ago, the woman you have talked about over and over again for the last ten years, the woman you once saw a future with, is now living in the same town you live in…
and she’s single. I mean…I assume she’s single? ”
“Honestly?” I shrug. “I don’t even know. We didn’t talk about it.”
Fuck me.
What if she’s with somebody else now?
It wouldn’t surprise me.
She’s still as beautiful as ever.
“Okay so let’s just say for shits and giggles that she’s single. And still super-hot…obviously. Would you want to see her?”
Yes.
Unequivocally yes.
I sigh again. “Yeah. I suppose I would.”
“Because…?” she goads.
“Because she was everything to me then. I loved her. I wanted a life with her.”
“Then don’t you think it’s okay to be curious even after all this time?”
“But how could I ever trust her again? After all she’s done?”
Ella’s eyes soften as she meets mine, her voice dropping to that gentle tone she reserves for moments that matter.
“You won’t trust her again,” she says with a confident shake of her head, her blonde ponytail swishing against her shoulders.
“Not until you can forgive her. And maybe not until you can forgive yourself…” Her fingers squeeze mine, warm and steady.
“Though between you and me, you’ve done nothing wrong and have nothing to forgive.
Those feelings churning inside you? They’re valid.
And I get why you feel the way you do. I imagine anyone in your skates would feel the same. ”
She tilts her head, a strand of hair falling across her cheek.
“But eventually, if you give yourself the space to feel and a little grace for what you’re working through, who knows…
” The corner of her mouth lifts in that knowing half-smile.
“Maybe the two of you will find your way back to each other and you’ll all get one big happily ever after. ”
“Babe,” August tips his head, his wedding band catching the fluorescent light as he gestures toward his wife. “When did you earn your degree in psychology and become a world-renowned therapist?”
The guys erupt in laughter that echoes off the walls, and I find myself joining in, the tightness in my chest loosening for the first time today.
“I’m just offering a more…positive perspective.
” Ella hops down from the table, her sneakers squeaking against the floor.
She plants her hands on her hips, scanning our faces with mock disapproval.
“Because from the looks of things when I walked into this room, you sorry assholes weren’t doing shit for our beloved Meers. ”
She leans down, the faint scent of sweet cinnamon rolls enveloping me as she wraps her arms around my shoulders. Her embrace is firm and grounding, the kind that reminds you that you’re not alone in whatever storm you’re weathering.
“You deserve to be happy, Harrison,” she whispers. “We all want that for you. And maybe…just maybe…this is the universe’s way of giving you everything you’ve always wanted.” She pulls back, her eyes searching mine. “Either way, we’re here for you and with you, okay?”
My throat tightens. “Thanks, Ella.”
“Of course. And also, have you called your mom yet?”
Another pang of guilt. “No, why?”
Ella gives me a knowing eyebrow raise. “Don’t you think she’d want to know? You’ve always talked lovingly about your mom and your stepdad, is it?”
I nod. “Yeah. Frank.”
“Well, I think for one, they would want to know that they have a grandchild to love on and secondly, moms just have a way of calming your fears and helping you see the forest through the trees.”
“I suppose you have a point.”
“Right?” She nods. “And listen, I have a shit ton of cinnamon rolls in my dressing room if you ever need one. I mean, they’re basically the official food of the Anaheim Stars now, so…
” She winks at me and I smile back as she kisses her husband and then waves at us all before she walks out of the room.
Maybe she’s what I needed all along.
Maybe I just needed to hear a different perspective.
Maybe I have a lot of thinking to do.
“You’re wife’s not bad, Blackstone,” I tell him as I take a deep breath, pick up my marker, and reach for a few more pucks. “I think you should probably keep her.”
He laughs. “Trust me. She’s stuck with me forever whether she likes it or not.”
I know I may still have a past with Harper that feels like a bruise someone won’t stop pressing on but at least as I look around this table I know I’m not alone.
Even if I feel alone everywhere else.
I don’t know how I got here.
I certainly didn’t plan on taking a two-hour drive and I don’t remember turning onto my mom’s street. One second I’m driving with no destination, radio off, thoughts too loud, and the next I’m pulling up in front of the house my mom and stepdad moved into not long after I was drafted to the Stars.
The porch light is on.
It’s always on.
It’s almost like she knew I might show up even though she doesn’t know a thing about what’s going on.
I sit in the car longer than I should, hands resting on the steering wheel, my chest tight.
I haven’t planned what I’m going to say because I didn’t know I was coming here today.
But I know I can’t carry this alone anymore.
Mom’s always been the one I turn to and although this is going to rock her as much as it has me, I don’t want to keep it from her.
And I’m secretly praying she’ll know exactly what to say to help me feel better.
Moms know best and all that shit.
When I knock, the door opens almost immediately.
“Harrison?” my mom says, surprise flickering across her face before it softens into concern. “Honey—what’s wrong?”
That’s all it takes.
“I uh…Mom, I…” I push my hands through my hair trying to think of the next words. “Can I come in?”
She doesn’t ask questions. Just pulls me into a hug that smells like laundry detergent and home. Frank appears behind her, socked feet and flannel shirt, eyes already reading me like he always could.
“Hey, kid,” Frank says gently. “You look wrecked.”
“Understatement of the year,” I mutter.
They sit me at the kitchen table like I’m sixteen again. My mom pours coffee I won’t drink and Frank leans against the counter, arms crossed, quiet but present, like always.
I stare at the wood grain, tracing old scratches with my eyes.
“I have a son,” I say finally.
The silence is immediate and heavy.
My mom’s hand flies to her mouth. Frank straightens.
“What?” she whispers.
I swallow all the pain I’ve been feeling these last several days and lick my lips before I speak. “His name is Connor,” I tell them. “And he’s ten.”
Ten years.
The words still feel unreal in my mouth.
Mom slowly shakes her head like she can’t comprehend anything I just said. “But…I don’t…who—”
“Harper.” It’s the only thing I have to say. “It’s Harper, Mom.”
Her shoulders deflate, her face falls ashen, and she tilts her head, sympathy pouring out of her. “Oh, Harrison.”
I tell them everything. About Harper, about college, about why she didn’t tell me. I tell them how I found out about the little boy in the youth league program who looks just like me and I never saw it…until I saw her.
My voice breaks and I don’t bother stopping it.
“I didn’t know,” I say hoarsely. “I swear to God I didn’t know. But now it doesn’t matter because I wasn’t there. I wasn’t the father that little boy deserved. He’s grown up for ten years without his dad and that’s on me.”
Frank exhales slowly, shaking his head. “That’s not on you, son.”
My mom reaches across the table and takes my hand, gently squeezing. She’s the epitome of comfort and peace when I’m with her but even now, I see the confusion and shock in her gaze.
“Harrison,” she says softly, “look at me.”
I raise my eyes to find hers, glistening but steady. “You are not your father.”
The words land like a lifeline.
“I’m scared I am,” I admit. “I keep thinking—what if this is how Connor sees me? Some guy who just…wasn’t there. What if he thinks I chose hockey over him? I’ve already failed him.”
She squeezes my hand. Hard.
“You listen to me,” she says. “Your father left because of me. Not you. And you’re right.
He could’ve been present in your life, but that was a choice he made and in a way, I thank God that he did, because you allowed Frank to fill the void you had at that age.
So, Harrison, if you are anything like anyone, you are like Frank.
He’s the one who helped get you started in hockey.
He’s the one who was at every practice. Every game.
He’s the one who has been cheering you on since you could skate. Don’t you see?”
Frank clears his throat, uncomfortable. “Now, Mar—”