Page 3

Chapter three

Abby

“Come on, Jake!” I call, my voice barely carrying over the sound of skates slicing the ice.

Jake zips past me, his little frame bundled up in his hockey gear, weaving through his teammates with growing confidence. His focus is laser sharp as he lines up for another shot, sending the puck sliding straight toward the net.

Clang! The puck smacks the post and ricochets wide, but Jake doesn’t miss a beat. He skates after it as his determination never wavers.

“Good hustle, buddy!” I cheer, warmth spreading through my chest.

Jake’s been practicing harder than ever since our nights at the Ice Hawks games. Meeting Beckett Hayes has left a lasting impression on him. It’s all he’s talked about for the past two weeks—reliving every moment of the games, the meet-and-greet, and the locker room tour like it was a fairy tale come to life.

And honestly? It kind of was. For both of us.

“Nice work, Jake!” His coach gives him a thumbs-up, and Jake beams as he circles back toward the bench.

“Did you see that, Mom?” Skating over, breathless but grinning he says: “I almost nailed it!”

“I saw,” I say, matching his excitement. “You’re getting better every practice.”

Jake’s eyes sparkle. “Beck said I had a good wrist shot. I bet if he saw me now, he’d say I’m even better!”

My heart clenches at the mention of Beck’s name.

Jake hasn’t stopped talking about him. And if I’m being honest… I haven’t stopped thinking about him myself.

That evening I sit at the kitchen table; my laptop’s open but the blinking cursor on the blank document taunts me. My notes for the feature article on Beck sit neatly organized, but I’m no closer to figuring out how to approach this piece.

Professionally, it should be easy. I’ve interviewed countless athletes, coaches, and team owners. But Beck? Beck’s different.

My fingers hover over the keys as I stare at the questions I’ve prepared. They’re solid—direct, probing, and insightful. But none of them capture what I really want to ask.

What’s beneath the surface, Beck?

I rub my temples, sighing.

Jake’s admiration for Beck is understandable. But me? I should know better. I’m supposed to stay objective—keep my feelings out of my work. I cover multiple teams and players. Favoritism isn’t an option. And yet…

Beck Hayes is making it impossible.

His easy charm, his quiet kindness, and the way he genuinely connected with Jake that night—none of it felt forced. And that’s the problem.

It felt real.

Get a grip, Abby. I’m muttering to myself, but the words ring hollow. It’s obvious that I’m no closer to my interview plan than I was two hours ago. I’m staring at the screen hoping an idea will write itself, I think.

I’m in this silent inner debate when I hear: “Earth to Abby!”

I blink, startled out of my thoughts as my sister Quinn’s voice snaps me back to the present.

“Hmm?” I look up from my laptop to see my sister standing in the doorway, arms crossed, eyebrows raised.

“You’ve been staring at that screen for ten minutes.” She steps closer, peering at my notes. “Oooh… I see. We’re back to Mr. Hockey Superstar. ”

“Quinn…” I groan, closing my laptop with a sigh. “Don’t start.”

“Oh, I’m definitely starting.” She plops down across from me, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “So, how’s the big article coming along? Or is it more like The Secret Diary of Abby Price and Her Hockey Crush ?”

“Stop.” I laugh despite myself. “It’s just… complicated.”

Quinn leans back, her expression softening. “Abby. You know I’m just teasing. But… is it complicated because of Jake? Or because of you?”

My stomach twists. “Both,” I admit quietly. Quinn’s playful demeanor fades, replaced by that familiar protective sister vibe. “Talk to me, Abs.”

I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “It’s just… Jake’s already so attached. He talks about Beck all the time. And Beck’s been amazing with him. I just…”

“Don’t want Jake to get hurt,” Quinn finishes softly.

“Exactly.” I glance down at my hands, my fingers nervously twisting together. “He’s been through so much already losing his dad in that auto accident. It’s been a lot, even though he was so little, I don’t think he has any vivid memories of that time. I don’t want to bring someone into his life who might not stick around.”

Quinn’s quiet for a moment. “And what about you?”

I look up, confused. “What do you mean?”

“Are you protecting Jake… or are you protecting yourself?”

Her words hit me square in the chest. I open my mouth to protest, but nothing comes out.

“Abby,” Quinn says gently, her eyes full of understanding. “You deserve to be happy too.”

My throat tightens. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”

“And that’s okay,” she says softly. “But don’t push something away just because you’re scared. Beck seems like a good guy. And Jake… well, he already adores him.”

“I know,” I whisper, my voice barely audible.

“And maybe,” Quinn adds, a glint of mischief returning to her eyes, “you’re just as smitten as Jake is.”

“Quinn!” I groan, but the heat rising to my cheeks gives me away.

***

Later that night, as I’m settling into bed, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. When I glance at the screen I feel my stomach flip.

Beck: Hope Jake’s keeping that wrist shot sharp. Let me know if you’re still up for that article. I promise not to make it too easy on you. ??

My pulse quickens.

I should wait to respond. Be cool. Professional. But my fingers have a mind of their own.

Me: He’s practicing like a champ. And I’m ready whenever you are. Just don’t expect me to go easy on you either . ??

Beck: I’d be disappointed if you did.

I bite my lip, warmth spreading through me in ways it shouldn’t.

This is dangerous. I set my phone down and curl up under my covers, but sleep doesn’t come easily.

What am I doing?

Beck is… dangerous. Not in the usual way. He’s not a player. I don’t think he’s after some fleeting thrill. He’s the kind of man who sneaks past defenses and makes you feel like you want to trust again.

And that’s terrifying.

My heart’s been locked away for so long that I’m not sure I even know how to open it again. And if I let Beck in—really let him in—what happens when he realizes I’m not the carefree woman I used to be?

What happens when he realizes I’m still broken?

I sigh, rolling onto my side and pulling the covers tighter around me.

Jake’s heart isn’t the only one at risk here.

Mine is too.

***

A few days later, Beck suggests we meet at Jake’s practice for a casual chat. Nothing formal, nothing intimidating—just two people talking about hockey.

At least, that’s what it’s supposed to be.

But as I watch him approach from across Jake’s rink, his easy smile making my heart race, I know there’s nothing casual about the way my pulse reacts to him.

“Hey,” Beck greets me, his gaze lingering just a beat too long. “How’s Jake doing?”

“Better every day.” I smile, but my nerves tangle with anticipation.

Beck’s eyes warm. “Kid’s got potential. You should be proud.”

“I am,” I murmur, but my throat feels dry.

We walk along the edge of the rink, talking easily about Jake, his practice, and the article. Beck answers my questions with thoughtfulness and humor, making it impossible not to be drawn in.

But then… he says something that stops me cold.

“People think I’ve got it all,” Beck says softly, his gaze fixed on the ice where Jake skates with pure joy. “But… sometimes it feels like I’m still searching for what really matters.”

My breath catches.

What does that mean? Is he hinting of a secret or what?

I open my mouth to ask, but Beck’s expression shifts—guarded, almost as if he didn’t mean to say it aloud.

“Anyway,” he says quickly, flashing a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Enough about me. What else do you want to know about the Ice Hawks?”

But I don’t want to ask about hockey stats or career highlights.

I want to know what he’s hiding.

And worse? I want to know why I care so much.