“Goodbye, darling,” she sings, blowing me a kiss before logging off.
The call ends, and I’m left staring at my reflection on the blank screen. The city sun filters through the coffee shop window, lighting up the stack of files sitting on the table in front of me, the half-empty coffee cup, and my phone currently dinging to remind me it’s time to go pick up Connor. I stop the alarm and smile at the picture of my son in his hockey gear, his helmet slightly crooked, his grin pure joy.
And then I lean back and sigh.
Triplet athletes, new opportunities for Connor and me, a move across the country. Every box of my plan checked off one by one.
If only I didn’t feel like I’m skating on thin ice.
I toss my laptop into my bag, grab my phone, and pitch the hours-old coffee in the garbage on my way out of the cafe. Then I head down the street toward the arena to watch the last thirty minutes of Connor’s practice.
When I get inside I quietly find a seat among a sea of other parents where I can blend in and not draw attention to myself. I smile when I catch a glimpse of Connor racing down the ice, giggling as one of the Stars players chases him.
Barrett Cunningham. At least I assume it’s him judging by the number on his jersey. I can’t help but chuckle as I watch Connor try to evade Barrett, his laughter ringing through the rink like music. He’s got that kid energy, the kind that can light up a room, or in this case, an ice arena, just by being himself. It’s infectious. The kid’s natural talent is undeniable, and seeing him out there, skating with the Stars’ players, makes my heart swell with pride.
As hard as I try not to look, my eyes betray me and find Harrison on the other end of the ice. In a way he hasn’t changed a bit from the man I once knew. Harrison stands tall and confident on the ice; his hockey jersey fitted perfectly to his muscular frame. His dark hair is slightly longer but still styled in the same messy yet charming way it always was. His eyes still hold that piercing gaze, and a faint smile plays on his lips. He skates with ease and grace, just like he did when I first met him. Despite the passing years, he looks good.
Really good.
As much as I’ve missed him, the wave of pride that courses through me knowing how hard he’s worked to get where he is, is almost worth the pain I felt walking away from him. I take a deep breath, the cool rink air filling my lungs, but it does little to quell the storm brewing inside me. There’s so much to unpack between us, too much history.
Too many unspoken words.
And now with Connor in the mix, I’m in over my head. I have no idea how to navigate these waters, and I don’t know what Harrison might say if and when he puts two and two together. Promising my kid this hockey camp experience was what got him to agree to making the cross-country move with me. He loves the Anaheim Stars. They’re his favorite team. They always have been because I’m nothing if not a forever fan of one of their star players. If there’s one thing I’ve done right by my son, it’s fostering his love of hockey from an early age. He lives and breathes it just like I did all those years ago.
Just like I still do.
“Now don’t forget,” Harrison pipes up, his voice booming around the ice as the kids gather closer to him. “After tomorrow’s scrimmage the whole Anaheim Stars team will be here. You and your families will get to meet everyone, and you’ll have the opportunity to get your picture taken with your favorite player.” He clears his throat. “Which means Barrett here will be all alone and I’ll be ridiculously busy.”
There’s a collective chuckle from the parents around me that thankfully swallows the sound of my rapidly beating heart and cacophony of nerves banging around inside me.
Tomorrow?
Pictures?
Shit.
It’s too soon!
I’m not ready.
Most of the kids begin to exit the ice where they reunite with their parents and head out for the day. But not my kid.
When I get down to the tunnel where I’m supposed to meet him, I peek out at the ice and spot him with Harrison.
Of course, my kid is the one who stays back to help clean up the pucks, helping Harrison get them all into the bucket. Harrison rubs the top of his head and says something to him I can’t hear from where I’m standing and then by some divine grace, as he watches Connor skate toward me, his eyes find mine.
Fuck!
It’s a split second. A sheer moment in time faster than a breath before I gasp and lower my head turning my body back down the tunnel and sprinting to the hallway where I throw myself up against the opposite wall and try to breathe while I wait for Connor.
I can’t believe he saw me!
Shit!
I didn’t want it to be like this!
Did he recognize me?
