Chapter 52 Ryan
The arena buzzed with life–voices humming, skates slicing across the ice, the occasional burst of laughter echoing through the space.
I walked in just in time, my phone still warm in my hand from my call with Harper.
She and Connor had just gotten home from the hospital, and though her voice had been soft, it was full of relief.
“Good,” I’d told her, grinning like an idiot as I stood just inside the entrance. “I’m here too. Made it with time to spare.”
“Good,” she’d echoed, amusement threading through her tone. “Now go and show them what you’ve got, Coach.”
It didn’t matter that the rain was still coming down hard or that I’d just driven through what felt like a monsoon to get here. Nothing could dampen my mood–not after the last twenty-four hours.
As I rolled my bag into the dressing room, Kyle spotted me from across the space. He manoeuvred his wheelchair smoothly between players and coaches before stopping in front of me.
“I’d ask if everything’s okay,” he said, one eyebrow raised, his lips quirking into a smirk, “but judging by the look on your face, I’d say things are pretty damn good.”
I laughed, shaking my head. “You have no idea.”
“Why don’t you tell me then?”
So I did. I told him everything–Harper, Connor, the hospital, the rain-soaked confession in the parking lot. By the time I was finished, Kyle was grinning from ear to ear.
“Man, I knew you had it bad for her.” He let out a low whistle.
“Shut up,” I muttered, though I couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off my face.
Kyle chuckled, clapping me on the shoulder. “Seriously though, I’m happy for you. You deserve this, Ry. You’ve been through enough shit. It’s about time something good came your way.”
“Thanks, man.”
We headed out to the ice, and the second my skates hit the surface, the familiar energy wrapped around me like a second skin.
Practice was smooth–better than smooth. The boys were locked in, pushing themselves harder than I’d ever seen.
Every drill, every play, every pass was crisp, and I couldn’t help but feel a deep sense of pride watching them.
By the end of practice, my buzz still hadn’t worn off. I was gathering pucks when Jeff skated up beside me, his whistle dangling from his neck.
“Hell of a practice today,” he said, leaning on his stick.
“Yeah,” I agreed, dropping another puck into the bucket. “The guys are really stepping it up.”
He nodded, then tilted his head slightly. “Have you given any more thought to the offer?”
I hesitated, gripping the edge of the bucket a little tighter. “Yeah. I’m still thinking about it. There’s… someone back home I need to have a proper conversation with first.”
Jeff’s expression softened. “Harper, right?”
Heat crept up my neck, and I nodded.
It wasn’t surprising that he knew her name.
Over the past six weeks, Jeff and I had spent hours together–long practices, bus rides, late-night strategy meetings that bled into conversations about life.
Inevitably, Harper’s name came up. I didn’t even realize how often until Jeff started teasing me about it, calling her “your girl back home” with a knowing grin.
I’d told him about Connor too, about the way that kid lit up a rink, about how much Harper had been through and how fiercely she fought to build a better life.
Maybe I hadn’t meant to spill so much, but Jeff had a way of listening that made it easy.
“Listen,” Jeff began, his voice quiet but deliberate, “this job? It’s incredible. It’s rewarding in ways I can’t even describe. There’s nothing like family, though, Ryan. Nothing. If you’ve got someone back home who supports you, who makes you happy… that’s not something you take lightly.”
I swallowed hard, his words hitting deeper than I expected.
“I’ve seen a lot of coaches come through here,” Jeff continues.
“Good ones, great ones. But you? You’ve got something special.
The way you connect with the guys, the way you push them while still making them feel supported?
That’s rare. You’ve been the best addition this program’s ever had, hands down.
Losing you would be a massive blow–not just to the team, but to me, personally. ”
I exhaled sharply, my chest tightening. “Thanks, Jeff.”
“I get it,” he added, “Family comes first, and it always should. If this isn’t what’s best for you and them, I won’t stand in your way. I just want you to know how much we value you here.”
I nodded, pressing my lips together. “That means a lot. It really does.”
He studied me for a moment before saying, “You’re lucky to have someone like Harper. I can tell just by the way you talk about her. And from everything you’ve told me? She’s probably just as supportive of you.”
“She is,” I admitted, my voice softening.
“She’d never stand in the way of this. She’d probably push me to take it.
But…” I ran a hand over my face. “It’s a lot of travel.
A lot of time away from her and Connor. I just got them back, Jeff.
I need to make sure Harper fully understands what this job entails before I make any decisions. ”
Jeff gave me a knowing look. “You’re right. It’s a conversation you need to have. This is big. Life-changing. You’re not just committing to us; you’re committing to a new way of living.”
His words settled heavy in my chest.
Jeff clapped me on the shoulder, his smile genuine. “Take your time, Ryan. We’re lucky to have you, and I mean it when I say you’ve got a home here. Whatever you decide, just make sure it’s what feels right for you. You’ve got the talent, the passion–hell, the whole package. Don’t doubt that.”
This time my voice was steadier. “Thanks, Jeff.”
As he skated off, I stayed behind, staring at the ice. His words played over in my head and an idea began to form–a spark of possibility. If Jeff wanted to keep me this badly… maybe there was room for negotiation.
A slow grin spread across my face, but I kept the thought to myself. I’d figure it out. For Harper. For Connor. For us.
By the time the kids cleared out, the idea had settled into something I couldn’t ignore. My phone was in my hand before I was even in my truck.
Shane picked up on the second ring. “You surviving?" he asked, amusement dripping from his tone.
“Barely,” I said, still grinning. “But listen–I’ve been thinking.”
“That’s dangerous.”
“Shut up for a second. What if…” I hesitated, then let the words spill.
There was silence, then Shane let out a low whistle. “That would be sick. You really think it could work?”
“Yeah,” I said, my pulse picking up. “I’ll talk to Jeff. See what he says.”
“Man,” Shane laughed, the sound echoing through the line, “if you pull this off… it changes everything.”
“Exactly,” I murmured, my grin widening. “That’s the point.”
I was sprawled out on the office couch, my laptop balanced on my legs as I sketched out tomorrow’s practice plan. The arena was quiet this late at night, the hum of the day replaced by a peaceful stillness.
It had been three days since I last saw Harper and Connor. Three long days. And I still had three more to go.
I grinned at the thought–three more days until I could wrap my arms around them, until I could spend every waking moment with them. Until everything felt right again.
The sharp buzz of my phone cut through the silence. A FaceTime call.
Harper’s name lit up the screen, and my heart did a little flip.
I answered immediately, my excitement spiking. “Hey–”
Before I could finish, the screen filled with Connor’s grinning face. “Hi, Ryan!” he said, his voice bright and full of energy.
I laughed, warmth spreading through me at the sight of him. “Hey, buddy! How’s my favourite hockey star doing?”
Connor launched into an animated recap of his day, words tumbling over each other as he told me about a project at school and how he’d finally beaten a tricky level in one of his video games. His enthusiasm was contagious, and I found myself grinning so hard my cheeks hurt.
“Guess what else?” Connor asked, his eyes lighting up.
“What?” I leaned closer, fully invested.
“I taught Mrs. Knox how to play Mario Kart! She’s not very good, though.” He giggled, clearly delighted.
I chuckled. “Well, you’re a tough opponent. I’m not surprised she’s struggling to keep up.”
Connor puffed out his chest. “She said I’m a mean driver.”
“You are,” I teased. “I’ve been on the receiving end of those banana peels, remember?”
Connor’s laugh filled the room, wrapping around me like a hug. God, I missed this. Missed him. Missed them.
“Connor, tell Ryan goodnight and hand me the phone!” Harper’s voice called from somewhere offscreen.
Connor groaned but turned back to the camera. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you in three days, right?”
“You bet. And get ready–I’ve been practicing. Your Mario Kart reign is coming to an end.”
“No way!” he shouted before shoving the phone toward Harper and darting off.
And then there she was.
Harper’s face filled the screen, and for a moment, I forgot how to breathe. Her hair was loose, framing her face in soft waves, and that smile–damn, that smile–knocked me flat every time.
“You’re stunning,” I blurted, unable to stop myself.
Her cheeks flushed, her smile growing wider. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft, almost shy.
“You’re welcome,” I replied, my voice dropping. “But I’m not sure you get just how much I mean that.”
She shook her head, laughing lightly. “You’re sweet. I can’t wait to see you.”
I leaned back, grinning. “Three days feels like forever.”
“It really does,” she agreed, her tone matching mine.
I hesitated before lowering my voice, letting a playful edge creep in. “Do you want to know what I’m going to do the second I see you?”
Her eyes widened slightly, curiosity and something else sparking within them. “What’s that?”