Page 54

Later that day, Abby drops by with Violet and two steaming cups of chai.

"I come bearing caffeine and moral support," she says, placing a cup in my hand.

I raise an eyebrow. "You heard."

"The rumor? Please. Mrs. O’Hara was practically shouting it from the produce aisle."

I sigh. "He said he turned it down."

Abby settles into the chair beside me. Violet gnaws on a giraffe teether, her big eyes blinking sleepily as I gather her up into my arms.

"He did. Beckett told me. Said Wes turned it down the morningafterthe offer came in. Didn’t even hesitate. He didn’t want to leave you guessing."

The tightness in my chest eases, but only slightly. "Then why is it still being talked about?"

Abby shrugs. "Because the internet never dies, and people love drama. But he pickedyou, Quinn. He didn’t even flinch."

I stare into my cup and sleeping Violet. The warmth of both sinks into my hands and deeper into my heart.

"You really think he meant it? That he’s staying for good?"

Abby smiles softly. "I think he’s never been more sure of anything. And I think you know that."

I do. Deep down, I do.

***

That night, I head to the youth rink, not sure what I’ll say. But Wes is already waiting near the entrance, leaning against the wall with that familiar crooked smile.

"Hey," he says, straightening. "Was hoping I’d see you."

"You got time to talk?"

He nods. "Always."

We walk toward the side bleachers where the Zamboni hums softly in the background.

"There’s a rumor going around," I begin. "That you… might still be considering that coaching offer."

He lets out a breath. "I figured it would surface."

"You told me you turned it down."

"I did. Before our picnic. Before the skate. I turned it down because I wantthis."

He gestures around—the rink, the community, me.

"I believe you," I say quietly. "But hearing it this morning… it got to me."

Wes steps closer. "You have every right to doubt, after what I put you through. But I swear, Quinn. I’m here. I’m staying. I want to build something that lasts—with you."

My throat tightens.

"I want that too," I whisper.

His hand finds mine, warm and solid. Then he pulls me into his arms, into the safety of his embrace.

"I told Beckett and Griff today I definitely want to continue helping run the summer clinic full-time. And I asked Beck if he thought I deserved to keep my permanent role after all of this back-and-forth I’ve put them and everyone through."