Page 15

The camp’s held at the local rink complex. Pulling into the gravel lot, I sit in my car for a full minute before getting out. The sun’s already climbing, warming the metal door handles. I square my shoulders and step out.

Inside, the place is a buzz of energy. Kids laugh and shout as they tug on gear, helmets bobbing as they sprint between locker rooms and ice.

“Quinn!”

I turn to see Liv jogging toward me with a clipboard and a walkie-talkie clipped to her waist. “You showed up!”

“Regretting it already,” I mutter.

She loops an arm through mine. “Come on. I’ll show you the med station.”

It’s tucked into the corner near the team benches—an area outfitted with folding chairs, a stocked cabinet, and a first aid kit the size of a suitcase. Not bad, all things considered.

“You’ll do great,” Liv says. “Honestly, most of it’s just bumps and bruises. Ice packs and encouragement.”

I nod, trying to believe her.

She squeezes my hand. “You’ve got this. And hey—maybe Wes showing up is fate. Closure or… something more. You know I’m rooting for option B.”

I give her a look. “Not. Happening.”

Liv just hums under her breath like she knows better.

Then I hear it—his voice.

Low. Calm. Too familiar.

“Hey, guys, circle up by the blue line. Let’s go.”

I turn before I can stop myself.

And there he is.

Wes. On the ice in warmup gear, whistle around his neck, coaching like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Confident. In his element.

His laugh echoes off the boards when one of the kids falls doing crossovers. He helps him up, ruffles his hair through the helmet, and gestures him back into line. Easy. Affectionate. Like he was made for this.

I grip the edge of the table.

Liv follows my gaze. “You okay?”

I swallow hard. “Yeah. Totally fine.”

But I’m not. Not even close.

Because I just agreed to spend the next week watching the man who broke my heart lead drills in a hoodie that still fits too well.

And my first shift?

Starts now.

As I settle into the med station, a voice behind me says, “They give you the fun post, huh?”

I turn slowly, and of course it’s him.

Wes.

Closer now. Too close.