What?
The accusation hits me like a physical blow. My lungs empty, vision tunneling. “What?” I whisper, the word barely audible as I whip toward Harper. “You told him that?”
“Oh, God.” Harper’s face crumples as she falls to her knees before Connor, mascara tracking black rivers down her flushed cheeks. “No, bud,” she pleads, voice raw and desperate. “I said I didn’t want to pressure him into being a dad.”
Connor’s brows furrow like every word is painful for him and Christ, it probably is because it’s fucking torture for me. And then his sweet face locks on mine, swimming with betrayal that pierces straight through my chest.
“You didn’t want to be my dad?” His voice shrinks to that of a much younger child, punctuated by hiccupping sobs. “You didn’t like me?”
Something shatters inside me. I crouch before him, my hands trembling so violently I have to press them against my thighs.
“What?” I choke out, shaking my head with such force it blurs my vision. “No. No, no, no, Connor, that’s not it at all.” My chin quivers uncontrollably as I stare into the mirror of my own eyes, terrified, devastated, lost.
“Then…I don’t…” He sniffles and stutters a few breaths. “I don’t understand why you didn’t want me?” His voice drops to a whisper that fucking destroys me. “Was I bad?”
Oh God.
His question guts me completely and my throat closes up.
“Connor, I didn’t—” The words strangle me, but I try again, my voice raw. “I didn’t know you existed, bud. Your mom never told me about you. Not once.” Tears blur my vision as I watch his little face crumple. “But God, Connor, if I’d known—” My voice breaks completely. “If I’d known, I would’ve moved mountains to be with you. Every. Single. Day.” I pound my fist against my heart with each word. “I would’ve chosen you over everything. Hockey. Money. Fame. Everything.”
Connor’s face contorts as he turns to Harper, his voice rising to a desperate pitch. “Why, Mom? WHY?” He pounds the bed with his small fists. “He was RIGHT HERE!” His chest heaves as he points wildly at me, tears streaming down his flushed cheeks. “I’ve been wearing his JERSEY! You put his poster in my room! All this time—” His voice cracks into a strangled sob. “We’ve been watching him play hockey for a long time, ever since I was…I don’t know. Littler. He’s my favorite player ever in the whole world.”
“Baby, please—” Harper reaches for him, her face ravaged with tears.
“NO!” Connor jerks away, his whole body trembling. “You KNEW! You KNEW he was my dad and you didn’t let him be my dad! I hate you!”
“Connor.” My voice is sharp as I come to Harper’s defense. “You don’t talk that way to your mo?—”
“It’s okay, H.” Harper stops me with a trembling hand to my arm. “I deserve this. I knew it would come. He’s processing.”
For fuck’s sake.
I can’t believe this is happening like this.
I hate that I’m sitting here dying inside for the love of my family and watching them both have to work through this pain and anguish.
Why can’t this just be easy?
“Connor, I was terrified!” Harper cries out, her voice shattering. She clutches at her chest like she’s trying to hold herself together. Her sobs making me want to pick her up and hold her…cry with her. “When I found out I was pregnant with you, Harrison was about to sign with the NHL and I—” She gasps for breath. “I was just a scared girl who thought she’d ruin his life if I told him about you.” Her fingers tremble as she reaches for Connor’s hand. “I was afraid Harrison wouldn’t have time to be your dad. And I was more afraid that Harrison’s bosses wouldn’t let us be a family. That they would tell him I couldn’t come with him and I was scared that even if I did go with him to whatever team he was going to, that he’d choose hockey over us, and you’d be left waiting by windows, watching the door, wondering why your daddy didn’t want you enough to come home, and I didn’t want that life for you, Connor.”
Connor’s lower lip quivers violently. “But he might have wanted me.”
Harper’s tears fall onto his small hand. “You’re right. And I know now that he would’ve wanted you. He would’ve loved you every single day. And I’ll regret not giving him that chance for the rest of my life.”
He sobs, harsh and wet as he turns back to me. “You missed…” He flails his arms dramatically. “Everything! You missed everything!”
He’s right.
And there is no defense for that.
“You’re right bud,” I say, my voice trembling, desperate to break through his pain. “I wish I could’ve been there. I wish I could’ve known you. I would’ve been there for you every day if I could and I’ll be there for you now. Every minute of every day. “
All I want to do is reach out to him, to reassure him, but I feel like a complete failure. “I’m sorry. I?—”
“No!” he shouts, shaking his head stubbornly as if my apology is a physical blow. “I don’t want you to say you’re sorry!” He covers his face with his hands, shoulders trembling. “You weren’t there. You didn’t even know I existed and you don’t know me now!”
The pain in his voice guts me. I don’t know what to say, what to do, or how to fix this and I’m terrified of pushing him further away. I feel Harper’s presence beside me, her tears cascading down her cheeks, and I realize she’s hurting just as much. We’re both trapped in this moment of raw emotion, desperation, and regret.
