Page 1

Chapter one

Abby

“Mom, he’s right there! Look!” Jake’s little hand grabs mine, his fingers sticky from the cotton candy he devoured five minutes ago. His blue eyes, wide with awe, lock on Beckett Hayes as he skates past. “Did you see that move? That was sick!”

“Totally,” I murmur, but my gaze drifts more to Jake’s face than the action on the ice. His cheeks flush with excitement, and his smile stretches ear to ear. The pure joy radiating from him tugs at my heart.

The roar of the crowd echoes around us as the Irondale Ice Hawks dominate the third period. Beckett Hayes—Jake’s idol—skates effortlessly, commanding the rink like he owns it. Every pass, every shot, every calculated move seems perfectly timed.

“Mom, I think Beck’s going for a hat trick!” Jake’s voice rises with anticipation, practically bouncing off the walls of the packed arena.

“Maybe,” I reply with a smile, ruffling his hair. I might not know all the hockey lingo, but I’ve learned enough to keep up with my son’s obsession. Ever since Jake discovered hockey, life has been a whirlwind of practices, early morning ice times, and endless stats recited at the dinner table. So, I know that, according to my son, a hat trick is when one player scores three goals in a single game.

But it’s worth every second. Especially after everything we’ve been through.

“Spotty agrees!” Jake grins as he pats Spotty’s head. Our Dalmatian, Sir Lotsaspots—appropriately named by a six-year-old with a love for both knights and animals—sits dutifully by Jake’s side, his tail thumping against the floor. The arena’s pet-friendly nights are a godsend for families like ours. Jake wouldn’t dream of leaving Spotty at home, and honestly, neither would I.

“Easy, Spotty.” I chuckle as the pup tries to sneak a lick of Jake’s face. “We don’t need slobber all over the jersey.”

“Mom, he’s a good luck charm!” Jake beams and wipes his face with the sleeve of his Ice Hawks hoodie. “Right, boy?”

Spotty barks softly, as if agreeing, and Jake grins even wider.

My heart swells as I take in the moment. These little pockets of happiness remind me why I work so hard to keep life steady for Jake. Three years after losing his dad in an accident, I’m still figuring out how to navigate single motherhood. But moments like this? They make it all worth it.

CRASH!

The sound of bodies slamming into the boards jolts me out of my thoughts. The crowd erupts as Beck rips the puck away from the opposing forward and speeds toward the goal. My stomach tightens as I watch Jake practically hold his breath.

“Come on, Beck,” Jake whispers, his eyes glued to the ice. “You’ve got this.”

And then it happens. Beck winds up, his powerful shot slicing through the air.

GOAL! The arena explodes as the puck hits the back of the net.

“YES!” Jake jumps up, nearly knocking over his popcorn. “Hat trick! Hat trick!” He waves his arms wildly, and Spotty joins the celebration with a series of excited barks. Fans are throwing their hats onto the ice while wildly screaming. It’s bedlam for at least five minutes while the officials have the hats picked up and the ice brought back to some semblance of normal.

I laugh, scooping up the popcorn before it ends up everywhere. “Okay, buddy, calm down before Spotty starts doing laps around the arena.”

But it’s too late. Spotty’s wagging tail knocks over Jake’s drink, sending soda cascading onto the concrete floor.

“Oops.” Jake looks down sheepishly. “Sorry, Mom.”

I sigh but can’t help but smile. “It’s okay. I packed extra napkins.”

As I mop up the mess, I notice a few fans nearby chuckling at the commotion. One of them, a woman with a soft smile, leans over. “Your little guy’s got a lot of spirit. And that pup? Adorable.”

“Thanks,” I reply, flashing a quick smile before turning my attention back to Jake. He’s still bouncing with excitement, his eyes glued to the ice where Beck skates by, acknowledging the crowd.

And that’s when it happens.

THWACK!

A rogue puck deflects off a player’s stick and hurtles toward the stands—straight toward us.

My heart leaps into my throat. “Jake, watch out—”

But before I can react, Beck skates toward the boards, eyes locked on the puck. In a blur of motion, his gloved hand snatches it out of midair, just before it reaches our section.

The crowd gasps, then bursts into applause.

Jake’s jaw drops. “Mom… did you see that?” His voice is barely above a whisper, pure awe in every syllable.

“I saw,” I breathe, my pulse still pounding.

Beck’s eyes lift toward the stands, searching for the puck’s intended target. When his gaze finds Jake—and me—his expression softens.

Our eyes meet.

I freeze.

A spark of something—recognition? Curiosity?—flickers in his eyes. Or maybe I’m imagining it. I blink, and the moment’s gone. Beck skates back toward the bench, puck still in hand.

“Mom, he looked at us!” Jake’s excitement is off the charts. “Do you think he saw me?”

“I… think he did,” I murmur, trying to steady my breathing.

Minutes Later…

With just over a minute left in the game, Beck circles back to our section, puck in hand. My heart hammers as he stops right by the glass and gestures toward Jake.

“Whoa… is he—” Jake’s eyes are as wide as saucers.

“Go ahead,” I nudge him gently.

Jake inches forward, his little hand pressed to the plexiglass. Beck leans closer, his smile warm and genuine as he taps the glass lightly with the puck.

“For you, buddy,” Beck mouths.

Jake’s face lights up as he accepts the puck from the arena staff who delivers it to us. His smile is pure joy. “Thank you, Mr. Hayes!” he shouts, his voice carrying over the din of the crowd.

Beck gives a small salute before skating away, but not before his eyes meet mine one more time. This time, there’s no mistaking it. There’s curiosity in his gaze.

***

Thirty Minutes Later…

And everything … everything that could go wrong … does.

Spotty, who had been a model of perfect behavior during the game, turns into a whirlwind of chaos the second we step into the designated meet-and-greet area. His leash slips from Jake’s hand, and he bolts toward the players, tail wagging like a propeller.

“Spotty, no!” I lunge after him, but it’s too late.

The next few seconds unfold in slow motion. Spotty barrels straight toward Beck.

And Beck?

He bends down, laughing as Spotty practically tackles him.

“Well, hello there, buddy,” Beck says, scratching Spotty’s ears like they’re old friends. “You trying to take me down?”

My heart pounds as I catch up, breathless. “I’m so sorry! He’s usually better behaved, I swear.”

Beck looks up, and for the second time tonight, our eyes meet. This time, there’s no mistaking it. Amusement dances in his gaze, but there’s something else too.

“Don’t worry about it.” His smile is easy, genuine. “I like dogs. And this guy’s got good taste.”

I bite my lip, trying to calm my racing heart. “Well, he’s definitely a fan.”

“Just like his owner, I’m guessing?” Beck’s eyes twinkle as he stands, his full six-foot-three frame towering over me.

My breath catches. Why does he have to be even more attractive up close?

“I’m Abby,” I manage, extending my hand. “And this is Jake.”

Jake, who’s been unusually quiet, steps forward, his eyes as wide as saucers. “You’re…you’re Beckett Hayes.”

Beck grins, crouching down to Jake’s level. “I sure am. And you must be Jake. I saw you cheering out there. Best fan in the house.”

Jake beams. “Really?”

“Really.” Beck’s sincerity is palpable, and my heart melts a little more.

“Mom’s writing an article about the Ice Hawks,” Jake blurts out, and my stomach drops.

“Jake—”

“That’s awesome,” Beck says, standing again and meeting my gaze. “I’d love to read it when it’s done.”

My cheeks flush. “It’s…a work in progress.”

“I’ll bet it’s great.” His smile is warm, making my pulse do an embarrassing little flip.

And before I realize it, Jake continues. I’m sure he’s just enamored that his hero is talking to him and doesn’t want it to stop. To my horror, Jake pulls out another tidbit to share.

Jake nods enthusiastically. “Mom knows all about hockey! She writes lots of stories about it.”

Beckett arches a brow at her. “Really? Where do you—?”

“I write for Sports Weekly ,” she cut in smoothly, watching for any flicker of recognition.

Nothing.

She tried again. “I was at your last post-game presser. You answered one of my questions.”

Still nothing. His expression was open, friendly, but utterly clueless.

Abby stifled a laugh. Of course. One face in a crowd of reporters? No wonder he had no idea.

Before I could say anything else, Jake pipes up, “Mom also wrote about how you skated right into the goalpost last season.”

Beckett groans. “Oh man, that story? You’re that reporter?” He gives her a playfully wounded look. “Brutal.”

Abby smirks. “To be fair, I did say you recovered gracefully.”

Beckett crosses his arms, eyeing her as if trying to place her all over again. “And yet, I only remember the part about the goalpost.”

Abby chuckles, shaking her head. “Selective memory.”

He flashes her a crooked grin, then turns back to Jake. “Hey, buddy, I think your mom’s trying to make me look bad.”

Jake giggles. “You made yourself look bad when you crashed.”

Beckett gasps in mock offense. “Wow. Tough crowd.”

Abby laughs, warmth spreading through her.

“Come on, Jake,” I say, gently steering him back. “We should let Mr. Hayes get back to—”

“Actually,” Beck interrupts, his tone casual but curious, “I’d love to show you both around the arena sometime. If you’re interested.”

Jake’s eyes widen. “Really?”

“Really.” Beck’s gaze flickers to mine, and for a moment, the world tilts.

I swallow hard, nodding. “That…would be great.”

“Cool.” Beck grins. “I’ll make it happen.”

As we walk away, Jake bounces with excitement, and I can’t help but wonder what I’ve just gotten myself into.

And why does part of me already want more?