Page 47

I hope he’s right.

I glance at him. “I try. But sometimes, I still feel like I can’t let anything crack, even for a second. Jake looks up to me now,but will I be good enough as his aunt later when he’s a teen, an adult?”

He nods, understanding softening his features. “That’s not a burden you need to carry on your own. Especially when he has such loving, attentive parents.”

My eyes linger on Jake rocking Violet with such care it makes my heart ache. “He’s my nephew. I love him like my own. But there’s always this quiet fear… that I’m not enough.”

Wes’s voice is low, firm. “You are. More than enough. And I want to be here. For you. For them. For all of it.”

The way he says it—soft but certain—makes me want to believe him.

And maybe, just maybe, I already do.

Because down deep I know that I’ll be enough for them both.

And maybe—for the first time—I’m starting to believe that I can be there for Wes in the same way.

Just then, Wes’s phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out, glances at the screen, and frowns slightly. “Sorry,” he murmurs. “I need to take this.”

He steps quietly down the hall, out of earshot, but I watch his posture stiffen as he listens. His back straightens, and he runs a hand through his hair—the kind of nervous habit I haven’t seen in a while.

When he returns, his expression is thoughtful, almost conflicted.

“Everything okay?” I ask.

He nods slowly, but there’s hesitation in his voice. “That was someone from the league. There’s a coaching position open. Not here—out of state. One of the teams I used to play for. They’re looking to rebuild, and apparently, my name came up.”

I blink, unsure what to say. “Wow. That’s... a big deal.”

“Yeah. It is.” He slips his phone back into his pocket. “But so is this. You. Our friends. The kids. This little town.”

His eyes search mine, and I know this isn’t just a passing call. It’s a moment. A fork in the road.

But for now, neither of us moves. The air is thick with possibility—and something dangerously close to hope.

Chapter eighteen

Wes

The morning after the call, the weight of it hangs in my chest like a puck to my gut. I barely slept. My brain keeps running the same mental drill, over and over. Do I take the job? What happens if I leave? What happens if I stay?

It all started last night, when Quinn and I were at Abby and Beckett’s. Jake had fallen asleep in the back seat, his head leaning against his hockey bag. But as soon as we drove into his driveway, he was instantly alert and running to find his baby sister. We were watching the two of them – adorable as he rocked and hummed to her. That’s when my phone rang.

I didn’t recognize the number, but instinct told me to answer.

"Wes Archer? This is Coach Lanning, from the Avalanche organization."

The name brought back a flood of memories—tryout drills, locker room pep talks, cold early mornings with everything on the line.

"Coach," I said. "It’s been a while."

"It has. I’ll cut to the chase—we’ve been watching your transition into coaching. You’ve got a reputation for connecting with players, and we’ve got a development spot opening. Colorado’s junior affiliate, assistant coaching position, and a fast track toward head coaching if all goes well."

My throat had gone dry. "That’s… unexpected."

"Your name came up for a reason. We want you, Wes. Full benefits, relocation assistance, solid salary. You’d be building the next generation—and you’ll have the resources to do it right."

He paused. "But we need a decision fast. We’ve got two other names, and training camp starts soon. Can you let me know by tomorrow?"