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There’s no mention of a wife and kids on his Wikipedia page. A little sliver of hope makes itself known. I take another sip of wine to try and drown it out.
I have enough to worry about with Lucas, I can’t be getting my own hopes up too.
There would be no getting over that.
I’m about to turn off my phone when I spot something.
“What’s this?” I whisper as I click on it.
My heart races as I read the page.
Harris will be attending a charity signing in Kansas City next weekend with a bunch of other pro athletes. The athletes charge twenty dollars for an autograph and all the proceeds go to the children’s hospital in town.
This has to be fate.
“Stop,” I warn myself. “It’s just a coincidence.”
He must do stuff like this all the time.
I scroll down to where you can purchase tickets.
But… Could it be fate?
I hover my finger over the purchase button and take another big sip of wine.
CHAPTER FIVE
Harris
This place is packed.
There are over fifty professional athletes in the conference center signing autographs and taking pictures with fans. A few big basketball stars are getting most of the attention.
Washed-up old hockey players like me don’t draw crowds like they used to.
The organizer put me in the back.
I wouldn’t even have agreed to come, but it was in Kansas City and I never turn down an opportunity to come here. You never know who you’re going to run into.
I straighten my pile of eight-by-ten photos and clasp my hands on the table.
A bored-looking teenage boy about sixteen years old wanders over.
He picks up my photo and twists his face up.
“Who’s The Flamethrower?” he asks.
“That’s me,” I say, forcing out a smile. “They used to call me that.”
He looks at me. “They don’t anymore?”
“Not really.”
He looks at the sign with the price on it.
“Twenty dollars for a photo?”
“It’s for charity.”
