I’ve loved Harper Richardson since the moment I laid eyes on her during my early college years. I knew she was the one for me and had every intention of making her my wife. But then she left and I never heard from her again. She broke my heart and left me alone to find my way in this world. Yet still, after all these years of not being with her, I miss her. Part of me wants to wrap my arms around her and beg her to take me back. To tell her I still love her and will do anything in my power to make her happy.
But the other part is even more devastated than I was the day she left me.
“I…I honestly don’t know, Mom.”
“Well, I hope if and when the time comes, you’ll find a way for all of this to work out. For Connor’s sake and for yours.”
Frank takes the seat next to me and places a hand on my shoulder. “Listen Harrison. I want you to think back to young you, learning to skate, learning to play hockey, the practices, the games, all the highs and the lows. You fell, right?”
I huff a soft laugh. “About a thousand times, yeah.”
“And every time you fell, you got back up. You kept moving. Kept fighting. You knew what you wanted and you went after it and look at where you are now. You’re a fucking Anaheim Star, son,” he says. “You’re a professional hockey player, who people love and adore, and now you have the opportunity to change your life all over again. I know it feels like you’ve fallen down hard and it fucking hurts this time.”
He’s not wrong.
“But you have the chance to get back up again and do things a little differently now. You have the chance to make changes in your life in order to find exactly what it is that makes you happy. You can channel the love and passion inside you toward a little boy who deserves everything you can give him.”
I nod silently, following his words.
“Or you can ignore the world and focus on hockey.” Frank sits back in his chair watching me, gauging my reaction. “The choice is yours. Now what are you going to do about it?”
There’s no question that I want to move forward.
Forward toward Connor.
Toward being there for him. For Harper.
“You’re right.” I nod. “Thanks, Dad.”
For the first time since everything shattered open, the fear loosens its grip just enough for something else to slip in.
Hope.
CHAPTER EIGHT
HARPER
The last day of the summer league wraps with a medal ceremony, a chaotic team photo, and at least twelve kids crying because they don’t want hockey to be over. Connor isn’t one of them. He’s too pumped. He’s vibrating.
I am…less vibrating. More surviving.
Because Harrison is here looking stupidly good in a team tee and mesh shorts, hair still damp from the end-of-session scrimmage. Every time I accidentally look at him, something low in my stomach pulls tight.
He’s giving medals out one by one, kneeling to be eye-level with the kids, laughing when they hug him, signing sticks and hats and arms.
He looks like he was carved for this.
Which somehow makes everything harder.
Connor sprints across the rink toward me, medal bouncing against his chest. “Mom! Mom! Did you see? Coach Harrison said I have great hands! He said I’m fast!”
“You are fast,” I say, smoothing his hair back. “You’re practically a blur.”
The rink is finally emptying out with congratulatory high-fives, parents gathering water bottles, kids buzzing from sugar and end-of-season adrenaline. Connor bounces beside me, clutching his autographed cap like it’s pure treasure.
He elbows me, subtle as a brick. “Mom. Can we go?”
“Wearegoing.”
