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“Beck,” I say gently, reaching across the table to cover his hand with mine. “What is it?”

He hesitates, his jaw tightening for a brief moment before he exhales slowly.

“There’s something I need to tell you.”

My heart skips.Oh no, another life, a WIFE?

But I just say: “Okay.”

He looks down, his thumb brushing absently over the back of my hand.

“I haven’t been completely honest with you.” His voice is low, almost hesitant. It’s a tone I’ve never heard from Beck before.

I feel my chest tightening. Oh no, a wife somewhere? Another family? “About what?”

“My… situation.” He lifts his eyes to meet mine, and for the first time, I see vulnerability there. “Abby… I’m not just a hockey player.”

“I know,” I whisper, my throat dry, “you’re so much more.”

He swallows; his jaw clenched tight. “No, I don’t think you understand. I’m also… I own a lot of businesses. Investments. Real estate. I’ve built a lot outside of hockey.”

My heart pounds as realization dawns. It’s not about a wife or a family or anything that would keep us from having a relationship. I’m shocked, but so relieved.

“I’ve got a lot of money, Abby. I’m a billionaire.” His words hang between us, heavy and filled with uncertainty. “And I didn’t tell you because… I was afraid.”

“Afraid?”

“Afraid that you wouldn’t want to be part of that world. That it would scare you away. Or worse…” His voice softens. “That you’d think I was keeping it from you because I didn’t trust you.”

I blink, and my throat tightens. “Beck, I begin …”

“I just…” He shakes his head while interrupting me, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t want that to come between us.”

For a moment, I don’t speak. I just feel.

I feel the weight of his words. His fear. His honesty.

And in that moment… my heart softens.

“I don’t care about any money you have, Beck.” My voice is barely above a whisper. “I care about you.”

His shoulders sag with relief, and for the first time all night, I see the tension leave his body.

“Abby…”

Our conversation continues and we both share more. I feel I know the real Beckett Hayes, more than ever. Then he tells me more.

“I didn’t grow up with money,” Beck starts, his voice soft but steady. “My parents worked hard to give me and my brother a good life, but we weren’t wealthy. My dad worked nights at the post office, and my mom ran a small catering business out of our house. She also cleaned houses – at least four or five each week. Everything I’ve built… it didn’t come from family money.”

My initial contract as a professional hockey player gave me my first real financial cushion. “I got a pretty big sign-on bonus, so instead of a fancy car or house I began to plan for when my knees or shoulders would begin to give out.

I knew hockey wouldn’t last forever,” he says, his gaze locked on Abby’s. “So, I started investing. First in real estate—small properties that I flipped or rented out. Then, I expanded into commercial real estate and started branching out into tech startups.”

“My investments took off, and with the right partnerships, I quickly turned my earnings into something far bigger than I ever imagined. I own several companies now,” he admits, almost reluctantly. “Tech firms. Real estate developments. Even a couple of international ventures.”

I have a private investment firm, Hayes Capital, which manages portfolios for athletes and other high-profile clients, helping them grow their wealth responsibly.

“But I didn’t want all this success to just be about money,” he says softly. “So, I put a lot of it back into causes I care about—youth hockey programs, education, and shelters that support underprivileged kids.”