For a moment, neither of us speaks. The silence is tight and loaded. Her eyes shimmer, like she’s trying not to feel everything at once.
Just like I told Connor…adults with big feelings.
I grip the top of the boards so I won’t reach for her because fuck, do I want to reach for her. “He’s a great kid,” I say. “You did an amazing job. You’re doing an amazing job.”
Her lips part like she wants to argue—because Harper Richardson never takes credit for anything good—but then she closes them and nods. “Thank you,” she whispers.
Connor calls my name, breaking the moment.
I turn, raising my hand. “Coming, bud!”
When I look back at Harper, she’s watching me like she’s trying to memorize something.
Me.
This.
Us.
And for the first time in ten years…
I let her.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HARPER
The moment I clickJoin Meeting, my computer speakers explode with overlapping voices.
“Move over. Your giant head is blocking the camera?—”
“My head is normal-sized?—”
“Actually, Mom said your head was the biggest?—”
“Oh my god, Killian, shut up?—”
The Haynes triplets—college seniors, elite athletes, and collectively a walking tornado—are wrestling for dominance on a shared dorm couch in front of the Zoom camera. Seeing them all on the other side of the screen is almost as if my eyes are playing tricks on me.
Triplets.
Identical. Triplets.
Jean didn’t tell me they were identical.
This is…well, I don’t even have words for it.
“Hello gentlemen,” I say as calmly as I can manage. “I can see all three of you regardless of head size, so please don’t injure each other before draft season.”
Three heads snap toward the screen.
According to the files Jean sent me a while ago, I’m looking at Shepherd, the quarterback—clean-cut, charming, and annoyingly beautiful— who gives me his best media-ready smile. Seriously I think one of his teeth just sparkled at me. Next to him is Killian, the baseball pitcher. I only know it’s him because Jean said he’s the tattooed one. He’s seemingly a bit more cantankerous than his brothers and currently munching on what appears to be a protein bar. And on the other end is Bishop, the catcher to Killian’s pitches. Surprisingly he’s the broadest of the three in size, though their faces look alike, and nodding like he’s mom’s favorite, which makes me smile on the inside.
Seriously.
Triplet pro athletes.
What are the odds?
