Chapter 7 #3
“No,” she says, turning to him briefly, then back to me. “You were there for him. At every rink. Every early morning. Every busted knuckle and missed shot. You taught him what showing up looks like.”
She looks at me again.
“And that’s what he learned. He’s not like his father. He’s better. He’s like his stepfather.”
My chest tightens and tears spill down my cheeks.
“I don’t feel like I deserve that comparison either,” I say quietly.
“Well, you get it anyway,” Frank says gruffly. “Because you already care too damn much not to or you wouldn’t be here.”
I scrub my hand over my face. “Harper kept him from me. Ten years. And I get why…I think. I mean, I fucking hate it, but I’m trying to understand.
” I pound the table with my fist making my mom jump.
“But it wasn’t her decision to make. She took something from me.
She took something from you too, Mom.” I gesture toward her. “You have a grandson you’ve never met.”
My mom nods slowly. “You’re right. It doesn’t feel fair.”
Relief flickers in my chest at the validation.
“But,” she continues gently, “imagine where you’d be if she had told you.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Harrison, you were young. You were chasing something you loved. You were barely holding yourself together back then,” she says. “If she hadn’t carried that weight alone—Connor, motherhood, survival—would you be where you are now?”
The question settles deep.
I don’t answer, because I know the truth.
Frank speaks this time. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you now. But it means she protected something. Maybe even protected you.”
I shake my head weakly. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” my mom agrees. “But it happened. And you can’t change it.”
She reaches up and cups my cheek, the way she used to when I was a kid who skinned his knees and thought the world was ending.
“You were both so young,” she says softly. “And she did everything she needed to do. And Connor?” Her voice warms. “He’s perfect, right? Is he good? Healthy? A good kid?”
More tears spill over and I don’t fight them. “He’s so goddamn perfect, Mom. So, fucking talented on the ice. He…he reminds me of myself when I was that age but he’s better. God, he’s so much better.”
“Then stop looking back,” she says firmly, squeezing my hand again. “You’re not going that way.”
I swallow hard.
“All you can do now,” she finishes, “is move forward.”
I nod slowly, breathing through the ache in my chest.
“What about Harper?”
“What about her?” Mom shrugs. “Are you two—”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, not…no. I can’t,” I say, trying to strengthen my resolve. “I can’t even think about her when I’ve done nothing but think about Connor.”
“That’s understandable,” she responds. “Can I assume you’re going to be in his life from here on out?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I scoff. “I mean, unless the kid doesn’t want me.”
“A kid who loves hockey enough to be in your youth league but doesn’t want to hang out with Harrison Meers?” Frank chuckles. “Fat chance.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t mean he wants me to be his dad.”
“Does he know?” Mom asks curiously.
“No. At least I don’t think so.” I sigh. “Honestly I’m surprised he doesn’t see it. I mean, I guess I didn’t see it either, but once I put all the pieces together I noticed the kid is the spitting image of me when I was ten.”
“You loved Harper once,” Mom reminds me.
“I know.”
“I remember how hard things were for you when she left.” She pats my arm lovingly. “But she named your son after you, Harrison. She gave him your middle name, and she raised him on the ice. There’s no way that’s a coincidence. She still loves you.”
My shoulders fall. “Mom, I really have no way of knowing that. And I won’t assume anything at this point.”
“Can you see a time when things between the two of you might…you know,” she lifts a shoulder. “Rekindle?”
I’ve loved Harper Richardson since the moment I laid eyes on her during my early college years.
I knew she was the one for me and had every intention of making her my wife.
But then she left and I never heard from her again.
She broke my heart and left me alone to find my way in this world.
Yet still, after all these years of not being with her, I miss her.
Part of me wants to wrap my arms around her and beg her to take me back.
To tell her I still love her and will do anything in my power to make her happy.
But the other part is even more devastated than I was the day she left me.
“I…I honestly don’t know, Mom.”
“Well, I hope if and when the time comes, you’ll find a way for all of this to work out. For Connor’s sake and for yours.”
Frank takes the seat next to me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Listen Harrison. I want you to think back to young you, learning to skate, learning to play hockey, the practices, the games, all the highs and the lows. You fell, right?”
I huff a soft laugh. “About a thousand times, yeah.”
“And every time you fell, you got back up. You kept moving. Kept fighting. You knew what you wanted and you went after it and look at where you are now. You’re a fucking Anaheim Star, son,” he says.
“You’re a professional hockey player, who people love and adore, and now you have the opportunity to change your life all over again.
I know it feels like you’ve fallen down hard and it fucking hurts this time. ”
He’s not wrong.
“But you have the chance to get back up again and do things a little differently now. You have the chance to make changes in your life in order to find exactly what it is that makes you happy. You can channel the love and passion inside you toward a little boy who deserves everything you can give him.”
I nod silently, following his words.
“Or you can ignore the world and focus on hockey.” Frank sits back in his chair watching me, gauging my reaction. “The choice is yours. Now what are you going to do about it?”
There’s no question that I want to move forward.
Forward toward Connor.
Toward being there for him. For Harper.
“You’re right.” I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
For the first time since everything shattered open, the fear loosens its grip just enough for something else to slip in.
Hope.