“Waking up every day and realizing my son is growing whether I’m there or not.”
Fuck.
Well, when he puts it like that…
I reach for him without thinking, my fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.
“You don’t owe Connor your entire career, H,” I say gently. “You didn’t choose to miss those years. That’s on me. And being a good father doesn’t mean sacrificing everything else that makes youyou.”
He cups my cheek. “No. But I want to choose him now. On purpose.”
My throat tightens.
“So,” I say, managing a small smile, “my professional opinion is this: don’t rush. Finish your current contract. Start planning financially, emotionally, and mentally. Figure out what comes nextbeforeyou walk away.”
“And your personal opinion?” he asks.
I press my palms to his strong chest.
“That our son is incredibly lucky,” I whisper. “Because wanting to be there for him matters more to you than how many hockey games you play.”
He exhales, something easing in his shoulders. “I love you, you know that?”
I kiss his cheek and then his lips gently. “Right back at you, H.”
We’re going to be okay, right?
This is all…it’s fine. Everything’s fine.
Because whatever Harrison decides, he’s already retired from being just a hockey player and promoted himself to dad…
Times two.
“He’s thinking about retirement!”
“What?” Ella scowls, sipping her water.
Layken’s jaw falls open. “He said that?”
“Retiring?” Scarlett’s eyebrows shoot up as she joins us at the table. “Who’s retiring?”
In tandem the ladies answer, “Meers.”
“But was he being serious?” Marlee asks as she pushes another bite of her salad into her mouth.
“It seemed like it. And he doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean.”
I needed a minute to get my thoughts out in the open, especially to someone who might understand something as big as retiring from the hockey league. The WAGs were the first group I thought of and when I texted them out of the blue begging to meet they jumped at the chance.
“And I honestly don’t think he’s just saying it to impress me or Connor either,” I add, wrapping my hands around my water glass. “He seems…resolved about it.”
“Well,” Marlee says, poking at her salad with her fork, “it’s not unheard of. Some guys do retire in their mid-thirties. Especially if they’ve had a good career.”
“Or if they have other priorities,” Layken adds, giving me a meaningful look.
I shift uncomfortably in my seat, my hand automatically drifting to my stomach before I catch myself and grab my napkin instead. I haven’t told anyone about the pregnancy yet, not even Harrison.
Especially not Harrison.
