He shakes his head.
“It means she wasn’t doing it to hurt me. She thought she was protecting me. Protecting you too. So yeah, even though I don’t agree with her decision to do that, I know she still loved me enough to want the best for me and loved you so much that she wanted to protect you.”
Connor plops down on the ice, his stick resting against his skate as he processes my words.
“I don’t know if I can yet,” he admits quietly. “Forgive her, I mean.”
I slowly take a seat next to him. “That’s okay,” I say, keeping my voice steady even as my heart aches for both of them. “You don’t have to right now. Feelings take time.”
He nods, looking relieved that I’m not pressuring him. “Yeah,” he says, then adds quietly, “I told Mom I hated her.”
I wince internally but keep my expression neutral. “How do you feel about that now?”
He shrugs, eyes downcast. “Bad. I don’t hate her. I was just really mad.”
“I know you were.” I bump his shoulder with my own. “And deep down she knows that too. Might be nice if you tell her that, you know, whenever you’re ready.”
“Yeah, I know.”
We sit in silence for a few moments, the sound of the arena’s cooling system humming around us. It’s peaceful here, just the two of us on this massive sheet of ice, working through things at our own pace. I realize this is the first time we’ve truly been alone together since everything changed.
“Can I ask you one more question?”
“You can ask me a thousand questions, bud. Shoot.”
“Do you love my mom? I mean…I know you loved her when you were her boyfriend in college but what about, like, now?”
I take a deep breath and smile. “I never stopped loving her,” I say, the truth flowing easily from my heart. “Not for a single day in the last ten years. Even when I didn’t know where she was or what she was doing, she was always with me. Always in the back of my mind.”
Connor studies my face intensely. He’s looking for any hint of a lie, any crack in my sincerity, but I’ll be damned if he finds any.
“And I’ll tell you a secret.”
His eyes grow to large bright blue orbs. “What?”
“I love her now more than ever,” I continue, holding his gaze. “Seeing her with you, seeing what an amazing mom she is, how she’s raised this incredible kid all on her own…gave you my middle name. Introduced you to hockey…it just makes me love her more.”
“Hmm.” He nods slowly, processing my confession. “Might be nice if you tell her that, you know, whenever you’re ready.”
His wit catches me off guard and the knowing little smirk on his face as he repeats my words back to me makes me laugh. I bump him just enough to tip him over and into a fit of giggles. “Get outta here.”
This kid—mykid—is sharp. Smart. Observant. And he’s got a sense of humor that cuts right to the core of things. I laugh as Connor pushes himself up, still grinning at his own cleverness.
“So,” Connor says finally, his voice small but steady, “you’re really my dad.”
It’s not a question this time, but a statement, like he’s trying the words out, seeing how they feel in his mouth.
“I really am,” I confirm, my throat tightening with emotion.
He studies my face for a long moment, and I can almost see him cataloging our similarities; the eyes, the jawline, the way we both tap our sticks against the ice when we’re thinking.
“That’s why I’m so good at hockey,” he says suddenly, a hint of his usual confidence breaking through.
I laugh again, relief washing through me at this glimpse of the kid I’ve come to know. “I told you, you could be an Anaheim Star yourself one day, didn’t I?”
“Can we practice some more? I want to try that thing you did in your game against Vancouver.”
“The between-the-legs shot? That’s pretty advanced, bud.”
