Harper approaches from behind him, gym bag slung over her shoulder, hair pulled back in a low ponytail. She smiles when she sees me, soft and a little shy. It’s still something that makes my pulse trip.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming,” she says.
“I know.” I shrug. “Wasn’t sure I’d get out of my team meeting on time and I didn’t want to distract him.”
Her expression warms. “Well, I’m glad you’re here.”
Connor starts peeling off his gloves, talking a mile a minute about drills and a kid who chirped him and how he totally chirped back but, like, respectfully. Harper and I laugh and for a few minutes, everything between us feels normal. Like we’re a real family. We sit on the bench together while Connor unlaces his skates, humming off-key. I help him tug one skate free and he doesn’t even question it. He just hands it to me like this is how it’s always been.
That simple trust nearly wrecks me.
“So,” Harper says casually, nudging my knee with hers, “are you ready for tonight?”
Tonight.
I straighten a little. “Yeah. I think so.”
Connor looks up immediately. “What’s tonight?”
I glance at Harper, who raises a brow likego ahead.
“I’m taking your mom out,” I say carefully.
Connor cocks his head, squinting at the both of us. “Like…on a date?”
Heat creeps up my neck. “Uh, yeah,” I say. “Sort of. The guys on the team invited us to go out with them so they can meet your mom. And their wives and girlfriends want to meet her too.”
Harper clears her throat but she’s smiling.
Connor considers this seriously. Then he nods. “Okay. That’s cool.”
I blink. “That’s it?”
“Yeah,” he says, hopping down from the bench. “Just don’t be weird.”
Harper snorts and I laugh.
“I’ll do my best,” I promise him.
As we walk toward the exit together, Connor planted comfortably between us, it hits me again, this quiet, terrifying, incredible truth.
This is what I want.
Not perfection. Not instant forgiveness. Not a neatly wrapped family bow.
Just moments like this.
Showing up.
Standing beside them.
And hoping, with everything I’ve got, that it’s enough.
“Are we getting burgers?” Connor asks with a shit-eating grin as if he knows he can use this moment of softness between us to get something he wants.
He’s right. I’m a sucker for this kid. I’d gladly give him the world to make up for all the time I’ve lost.
I grin and then ask him, “Is that the only acceptable food group?”
