Page 27

“Easy,” Jake says with supreme confidence. “He’s got speed and teeth. You don’t stand a chance.”

Beck laughs, and I feel it — that familiar tug in my chest that’s becoming impossible to ignore. Seeing Beck with Jake? It does something to me, something that makes my carefully built defenses feel about as sturdy as wet tissue paper.

Don’t fall for him, Abby. But who am I kidding? It’s a past tense thought.

How am I supposed to keep my heart on lockdown when Beck looks at Jake like he’s the coolest kid on the planet? And the way Jake looks up to him? It’s dangerous. The kind of dangerous I vowed to avoid.

"Alright, superstar," Beck says, ruffling Jake’s hair. "Want to help me pack up?"

Jake’s eyes light up like it’s Christmas morning. "Really?"

“Absolutely. I need an assistant, and you’re my guy.”

As Jake darts off with Beck to gather sticks, Spotty finally gives up on the puck and plops down by my feet, his tongue hanging out in pure puppy satisfaction.

“You’re not supposed to make this so easy,” I mutter to no one in particular, running my hand over Spotty’s head.

But it’s Beck who’s making it too easy.

I keep watching as Beck chats with Jake, explaining how to stack sticks properly while Jake listens with awe. It’s like they’ve formed their own little team, and my heart doesn’t know whether to cheer or hide in the locker room.

"How do you do it?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.

Beck looks up, his expression curious. "Do what?"

"Be so…" I wave a hand vaguely, searching for the right words. "Good with him. You’re patient. Kind. You make him feel like he matters."

Beck’s eyes soften as he straightens, walking back toward me with Jake trailing behind, holding what looks like half the team’s equipment.

"It’s easy when the kid’s as awesome as Jake," Beck says, his voice quieter now. "He’s smart. Funny. And he’s got a heart bigger than this whole arena."

Oh great. Just go ahead and melt, Abby. Right here. In public.

I swallow, forcing a smile. "Yeah. He’s one of a kind."

“And he’s got a one of a kind mom,” Beck adds, his eyes locking onto mine.

Oh no. No, no, no.

Abort. Abort.

I glance away, focusing way too hard on Spotty, who’s now sniffing an abandoned glove like it might be his long-lost sibling.

“I’m just doing what I can.” My voice is barely above a whisper.

“Abby…” Beck’s voice is softer now, almost hesitant.

And then I feel it—that slight shift in the air between us. The magnetic pull I’ve been trying so hard to ignore.

I look up, and Beck is closer than I realized. Way too close.

His eyes — that impossible shade of stormy blue — search mine, and for a moment, I forget how to breathe.

"You’re amazing," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

My heart pounds as Beck lifts a hand, brushing a stray lock of hair away from my cheek. His touch is gentle, his fingertips lingering just a second too long.

"Beck…" I breathe, but I don’t move.