Griff crosses his arms, studying me, and then he’s joined by Ledger and Barrett.
“Worse than the time Barrett’s cat puked in your shoes?” Ledger offers.
I don’t even have to respond. The flat sickening expression on my face is enough that he stops smiling.
“What happened?”
I drag the towel over my face and sink to the bench just outside the shower, elbows on my knees. My voice barely comes out. “She’s here.”
Barrett frowns. “Who’s?—”
“Harper.”
Recognition flashes across his face, followed by a low whistle. “Holy shit.”
“Wait.” Ledger frowns. “You mean Harper, Harper? As in your Harper?”
Griffin adds, “Harper as in the woman you’ve been hung up on for?—”
“Yeah.”
He lets out a slow breath, sitting down on the bench across from me. “That explains the ghost look. How long’s it been?”
“Ten fucking years.”
“Damn.” Ledger cocks his head, his eyes narrowing. “And she just shows up? Out of nowhere?”
“Yep.”
“Lucky you, then, huh?” Barrett suggests but my look has him changing his tune. “Then again…maybe not. I take it you two ended on bad terms?”
I shake my head. “No. Yes.” I rake my hand through my wet hair. “It fucking sucked if I’m being honest. I loved her. I wanted to marry her. I wanted her to follow me wherever hockey took me, but she didn’t want that life. Said she didn’t want to slow me down and I didn’t understand what she meant at the time. And now…”
“Now what?” Griffin asks.
I take a deep breath and swallow back the urge to dry heave all over again. “She didn’t show up alone.”
Barrett hums. “She’s married now?”
“No, worse.”
Griffin raises a brow. “Okay spill the tea. What could be worse than the love of your life being married to someone else?”
I stare at the floor. “She could be the mother of Connor Richardson.”
“Connor Richardson?” Ledger repeats. “Oh, that kid from the youth league?”
“Yeah.”
“Hmm.” He nods in understanding. “You know, it’s funny, I always kind of thought that kid looked like…” That gets him. His brows lift, and I can see the gears turning. “Oh.”
“Yeah.Oh.” I wipe my hand down my face. “He’s ten. Connor is ten.”
Silence falls heavily between us. For a long beat, the only sound is the shower still running behind me.
“Fuck,” Griffin says finally, his voice soft. “And you think he’s?—”
“I don’t know,” I cut him off, because saying it out loud makes it too real. “Idon’t know. But he’s got my eyes. My goddamn grin. He looks like me at that age. Fucking spitting image if I think about it.”
