But he was, because he was standing half naked onmypatio. With that damn gold chain. A hockey player half naked in a locker room? Fine, whatever.Thishockey player on my patio half naked? Why was the world so cruel? He shoved his pants down, bending to step out of them and his socks. They joined the pile on the patio chair.
Harlan Royce, in all his wild-haired, toned-muscled glory stood on my patio in just his gold chain and a pair of Calvins. He rested his perfectly round ass on the lip of the tub, swinging his legs over and sitting directly across from me in the water.
Liam returned and pressed a cold seltzer can into Harlan’s hand at the edge of the tub. Harlan saluted Liam, cracked the lid, and ripped a sip off the top.
It was all so . . . manly. To be a man and comfortable in your skin.
I remembered that he’d been making conversation and I hadn’t responded.
“Thank you. Li and I have been here a long time. But he won’t be here much longer,” I said, reaching over to pat Liam’s cheek as he settled back in the water.
“I still might do another year of juniors,” Liam said.
“Liam’s torn,” I said to Harlan. “He could do another year of juniors and try to get drafted or scouted by a university, or he might just play club hockey somewhere and go to school.”
Harlan nodded. “Tough call. What position are you?”
“Right wing.”
“You any good?” he asked.
“I mean, I think so. I’ve heard a scout from State College is coming to one of our games. I think it’s for me, but my friend Jayden thinks it’s for him.”
“State’s got a hell of a hockey program,” Harlan said.
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her,” Liam said. The two of them launched into a spirited discussion about college hockey, which allowed me a beat to take in the absurdity of it all.
This was strange. So very, very strange.
Harlan irritated me at work. He criticized me, made my days more difficult. He was a know-it-all. A borderline mansplainer.
Then he had to go put himself in harm’s way and I couldn’t let him get hurt.
Now, he was at my house, in a hot tub he bought for me, cracking jokes with my son and me like he’d been here all along.
My son, who, until twenty minutes ago, he hadn’t known existed. Here, he just took it in stride.
How many men, no, how manypeoplehad walked into my life and walked right back out when they learned I had a son? Judged me for being a young mom? Judged me for being divorced at a young age, like I was spoiled goods or something? I’d think someone was my friend, and once they found out I was a mom, it was like this unforgivable dividing line. Cool or not cool. In or out.
Some stuck around. Cindy and the culinary school folks. I considered Miguel a friend. I was still friends with Liam’s dad, another thing that made me weird. And some of the Rusties’ partners were cool.
Then there were the other parents at his school. Because I was on the younger end, they talked down to me. I was rarely invited to mom hangouts, and when I was, I often had to work because I had weird hours.
That’s not to mention my own parents, who told me I wasn’t allowed to come home if I had “that boy’s baby.”
And men? Forget about it. I’d basically have a bet going as to how long they’d keep the ruse up after they found out about Liam. I wasn’t ashamed of my son or of having him young, and it was an immediate red flag if they put up any resistance.
So to see Harlan so comfortable hanging out with my son, who he just found out about, was remarkable. And here, they’d been carrying on a conversation without me. Harlan was asking Liam about his high school team and actually listening to his answers. How was this possible?
“But hey, what’s it like playing in the show?” Liam asked. The show. The NHL.
Harlan twisted his lip to chew on the corner. “It’s pretty cool. Been in a few years. I was in the AHL, and the guy above me got injured. I got called up, and he stayed hurt so . . . here I am.”
I wrinkled my brow. “You act like you got here by accident.”
He shrugged. “Kind of. The right set of circumstances.”
“But you worked hard to get here.”