HARRISON
Idon’t even remember getting home.
One minute I was in the shower, knees on wet tile, chest caving in like someone took a sledgehammer to my ribs. The next, I was in my truck, hands shaking on the steering wheel, staring at the concrete wall of the parking garage like it owed me answers.
Now I’m in my living room. Duffel bag dumped somewhere between the front door and the kitchen. Practice jersey half out of the washer. A pair of my skates sitting on the damn counter like a psychotic centerpiece.
I can’t focus.
Can’t breathe right.
I can’t get the image of Harper’s face out of my head.
The way our eyes met.
The way she looked at me like she’s seen me a million times over the last ten to eleven years.
The way she pretended not to know me.
The way her eyes begged me not to ask about Connor.
Ten.
The kid is ten.
My hand is still shaking when I tug my laptop across the counter and open the Pucks & Blades youth league portal I probably shouldn’t have access to. Being the founder has its perks. I’ve signed so many sticks and jerseys for these kids that I barely think about it anymore.
But tonight?
Tonight, I’m digging through the parent contact spreadsheet like a man possessed.
There he is.
Connor Richardson — Age 10
And there it is, right next to his name:
Parent/Guardian: Harper Richardson.
Address: Anaheim, CA.
I stare at the address for a full ten seconds before the thudding in my chest drowns out everything else.
She lives ten minutes from me.
Ten fucking minutes.
I grab my keys without thinking.
Ten minutes later I park across the street from a beige apartment building near the marina. It’s nothing fancy but it looks safe enough. A quiet neighborhood. The kind of place I might choose if I wanted stability for a kid.
A kid who might very well be mine.
Honestly, at this point, if he’s not mine, I might be equally as devastated because that would mean she was with someone soon after we split.
Call me naive but I just don’t see how that’s possible knowing the Harper I knew back then…but then again, maybe that’s why she left me in the first place.
Fuck.
