I tap my stick against the ice, considering my answer. “She thought I was just some dumb jock who wouldn’t take school seriously. But I proved her wrong.”
Connor skates a bit closer, his interest piqued. “How?”
“I showed up at the library where she was studying and brought her coffee. Every day for two weeks.” I smile at the memory. “Eventually she agreed to one date just to shut me up.”
“And then she liked you?”
“Not right away,” I admit. “But I grew on her. Kind of like an invasive weed.”
That gets a small laugh out of him as he nods like he’s fitting all the pieces together in his head.
“Mom said you were her first love.”
My heart stutters at that.
Harper told him that?
Even when she’d kept the rest from him?
“She told you that?”
“Mhmm, last night.”
“Well, if we’re being honest with each other, she was mine too,” I admit, feeling vulnerable but knowing he deserves every truth I can give him. “My first and only real love.”
Connor skates a small figure eight, processing this. “So, what happened? Why’d you break up?”
I exhale slowly, weighing how much to share with an eleven-year-old. “We were young. I was about to get drafted, and she was afraid she’d hold me back from reaching my hockey dreams, which I thought was bullshit by the way. I wanted her there with me. I knew she was the one for me but…” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “Sometimes when you’re that age, you make decisions thinking you’re doing what’s best, but you don’t have all the information yet.”
“Like Mom not telling you about me,” he says bluntly.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Like that.”
He takes another shot at the net, this one harder, more focused. It sails in cleanly.
“Nice one,” I say.
He doesn’t acknowledge the compliment, just collects another puck. “If you knew about me back then, would you…” His voice is soft but insistent, like he needs this answer more than anything. “Would you have come back?”
I don’t hesitate. “In a heartbeat.”
He studies my face like he’s searching for a lie, but there isn’t one to find because I mean every word I say to him.
“Even if it meant giving up hockey?”
That question hits deeper, and I take a moment to really think about it. Not because I don’t know the answer, but because I want him to understand I’m being completely honest.
“Yeah,” I finally say. “I would’ve found a way to do both. To be your dad first, and a hockey player, but I hands down would’ve been your dad first and foremost. Hockey was my dream kind of like it’s yours right now, and I worked hard for it just like you’re working hard now too, but you, Connor…you would’ve been more important than anything to me.”
Connor processes this, his eyes locked on the puck as he passes it back and forth with his stick. “Mom said the same thing. That she didn’t want to make you choose.”
“I know,” I sigh. “And part of me understands why she thought that. But she should’ve let me make that choice myself.”
“Yeah,” he agrees, then looks up at me with those eyes that are so much like mine it still startles me. “Did you forgive her?”
I find myself nodding slowly, considering Connor’s question with the weight it deserves. Forgiveness isn’t something you can fake, especially not to a kid who’s already had enough lies in his life.
“Yeah,” I tell him honestly. “I did. I do.” I shrug. “Maybe not all at once, because there are still moments when I think about what I missed and it hurts like hell and I get angry about it all over again. But I choose to forgive her because I understand why she did it, even if I don’t agree with it. Her keeping you from me wasn’t a malicious act. Do you know what that means?”
