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I nod, understanding more than she probably realizes.

“I get that.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” I glance toward Jake, watching as he skates effortlessly around the rink. “My parents… they poured everything they had into giving me and my brother a better life. But after I made it big, I felt this weight… this pressure to live up to their sacrifices. I still feel it sometimes.”

Abby’s eyes soften, her head tilting slightly. “That’s a lot to carry.”

“Yeah.” I let out a slow breath. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And I’m sure Ethan wouldn’t either.”

Abby’s lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile. “No, he wouldn’t.”

For a moment, we just stand there in comfortable silence, watching Jake glide across the ice, his laughter echoing in the empty rink.

“You’re really good with him, you know,” she says softly, her voice barely above the hum of the arena.

“Jake makes it easy.”

“Still.” Her eyes meet mine again, and this time, there’s no mistaking the warmth there. “Thank you, Beck.”

“Anytime.”

Just as I’m about to suggest we call it a day I notice Abby’s expression change. Her smile fades, replaced by a tightness around her mouth, and her eyes cloud over as she watches Jake skate.

“Abby?” I ask softly, but her focus is locked on Jake.

I see it then—the flicker of worry, the weight of single parenthood, and the ache of loss she tries so hard to hide.

She’s carrying more than she lets on.

And I’m starting to wonder if I’m ready to carry some of it with her.

Chapter nine

Abby

Iclosethefrontdoor behind me and lean against it, pressing my palm flat against the cool wood. My heart’s still racing since the afternoon. The sound of Jake’s laughter echoes in my mind, and I can’t stop thinking about the way Beck guided him across the ice with such patience. The easy confidence in his movements, the gentle encouragement in his voice…

And the way he looks at me.

My chest tightens.Why does he have to be so… so good?

Spotty bounds toward me, his tail wagging wildly as he nudges my leg, demanding attention. “Hey, Spotty,” I murmur, running my fingers through his soft fur. But even his warm presence isn’t enough to quiet the swirling storm in my head.

I push away from the door, walking toward the kitchen on autopilot. Jake’s already in his room, probably replaying the entire afternoon in his head. I can practically hear him narrating every move Beck showed him on the ice. My son is completely smitten with Beck Hayes.

And I’m afraid I might be, too.

“Get it together, Abby,” I whisper, reaching for a glass of water. But my hand trembles slightly as I set the glass on the counter.

This isn’t just a crush.

It’s more.

The way Beck is with Jake… it’s not just kindness or obligation. He genuinely cares. I saw it today in the way he crouched to Jake’s level, explaining the right way to angle his skates. In the way he celebrated every small victory, making Jake feel like the king of the ice.

And then there’s the way Beck looks at me.