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A slow grin tugs at my lips. “You’re inviting me over, huh? Are you sure you can handle Spotty and me in your kitchen at the same time? We both seem to be accidents waiting to happen.”

She laughs softly, and the sound sends a warm ache straight to my chest. “I think I can handle it. But… there’s something else.”

“Yeah?”

“Jake’s been talking nonstop about that puck you gave him. He wants to know more about how it works… the tape, the stick, everything.”

“Ahhh.” I chuckle. “A future playmaker in the making. I’d love to talk hockey with him. But…” I glance toward the framed photo of me with my cats on the shelf near the TV, an idea forming.

“How about I have you and Jake over to my place after lunch?” I suggest casually, trying to keep my voice even. “I’ve got all my gear there. He can check out my sticks, my old jerseys… and maybe meet the other important members of the Hayes household.”

“Other members?” Abby sounds curious.

“My cats.” I grin. “Biscuit, Mitts, and Hat Trick. They’re quite the welcoming committee.”

Silence stretches on the line for a beat before I hear her soft laugh. “I do remember the pictures of your cats. Pretty funny for such a jock as yourself, Mr. Hayes.”

“Yep. Three of them. They’re a handful.” I smile, picturing Jake’s reaction. “I think Jake would love them. I’m not completely sure about Sir Spotsalot or Lotsaspots, or …”

“Okay,” she says softly, her tone filled with something I can’t quite place. “That sounds… really nice. Let’s just settle on Spotty for the name. And this time I think we’ll leave him behind.” Her grin makes me laugh.

Score.

“Great. I’ll see you both in a bit.”

***

Her invite to lunch has been a wonderful surprise. Seeing her and Jake in their own home shows me even more what a great mother she is. Their place is warm and friendly. The minute I walk in I feel good being there.

Jake chatters non-stop as I sit at Abby’s kitchen table, polishing off the last bite of her homemade grilled cheese.

I think I complemented her three times, at least. Probably a little overkill but dang, I’m nervous.

“And then I turned my stick just like you said, Beck!” Jake’s eyes shine with excitement as he demonstrates an exaggerated wrist shot with an invisible hockey stick. “Boom! Right past Spotty!”

“Nice form, buddy.” I grin, punching him gently in the arm. “Keep practicing that wrist shot, and you’ll be unstoppable.”

“Can we practice at your place?” Jake asks eagerly, bouncing in his seat. “You said you have all your gear, right?”

“Yup.” I glance at Abby, who’s been quietly watching us with a soft smile that makes my chest ache. “I thought maybe after lunch we could head over there.”

Jake’s grin stretches from ear to ear. With one knee up, he pumps his arms, elbows bend, fists tight. “Yes!”

“Only if it’s okay with your mom,” I add gently, my gaze meeting Abby’s.

Her eyes soften, and after a beat, she nods. “I think that’s a great idea.”

***

“Whoa…” Jake’s eyes widen as we step into my penthouse. His gaze sweeps across the open-concept living space—exposed brick walls, modern furnishings, and a massive wall-mounted TV displaying highlights from the latest NHL games.

As I see Abby taking in the view from the wall of windows, I’m immediately wondering.Should I worry that she’s afraid of heights?But as she walks toward them with a smile on her face, I let out the breath I didn’t realize I was holding.

Score one for the living quarters.

My focus turns back as I hear a drawn out “Cool!” Jake’s eyes are locked on the framed jerseys hanging on the wall—one from my rookie year, another from my Stanley Cup win.

“Make yourself at home,” I say, setting my keys on the counter. “But Jake, be warned… you’re about to meet the real rulers of this house.”