Relief flickers in my chest at the validation.
“But,” she continues gently, “imagine where you’d be if shehadtold you.”
I frown. “What do you mean?”
“Harrison, you were young. You were chasing something you loved. You were barely holding yourself together back then,” she says. “If she hadn’t carried that weight alone—Connor, motherhood, survival—would you be where you are now?”
The question settles deep.
I don’t answer, because I know the truth.
Frank speaks this time. “Doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt you now. But it means she protected something. Maybe even protectedyou.”
I shake my head weakly. “That doesn’t make it okay.”
“No,” my mom agrees. “But it happened. And you can’t change it.”
She reaches up and cups my cheek, the way she used to when I was a kid who skinned his knees and thought the world was ending.
“You were both so young,” she says softly. “And she did everything she needed to do. And Connor?” Her voice warms. “He’s perfect, right? Is he good? Healthy? A good kid?”
More tears spill over and I don’t fight them. “He’s so goddamn perfect, Mom. So, fucking talented on the ice. He…he reminds me of myself when I was that age but he’s better. God, he’s so much better.”
“Then stop looking back,” she says firmly, squeezing my hand again. “You’re not going that way.”
I swallow hard.
“All you can do now,” she finishes, “is move forward.”
I nod slowly, breathing through the ache in my chest.
“What about Harper?”
“What about her?” Mom shrugs. “Are you two?—”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, not…no. I can’t,” I say, trying to strengthen my resolve. “I can’t even think about her when I’ve done nothing but think about Connor.”
“That’s understandable,” she responds. “Can I assume you’re going to be in his life from here on out?”
“Abso-fucking-lutely,” I scoff. “I mean, unless the kid doesn’t want me.”
“A kid who loves hockey enough to be in your youth league but doesn’t want to hang out with Harrison Meers?” Frank chuckles. “Fat chance.”
I shrug. “Doesn’t mean he wants me to be his dad.”
“Does he know?” Mom asks curiously.
“No. At least I don’t think so.” I sigh. “Honestly I’m surprised he doesn’t see it. I mean, I guess I didn’t see it either, but once I put all the pieces together I noticed the kid is the spitting image of me when I was ten.”
“You loved Harper once,” Mom reminds me.
“I know.”
“I remember how hard things were for you when she left.” She pats my arm lovingly. “But she named your son after you, Harrison. She gave him your middle name, and she raised him on the ice. There’s no way that’s a coincidence. She still loves you.”
My shoulders fall. “Mom, I really have no way of knowing that. And I won’t assume anything at this point.”
“Can you see a time when things between the two of you might…you know,” she lifts a shoulder. “Rekindle?”
