Page 8

Chapter eight

Beck

Earlier in the morning I’m already halfway through my second cup of coffee when my phone buzzes with a familiar name.

Dexter Stone, the team Manager.

I sigh, knowing this conversation is long overdue. “Dex. What’s up?”

“Checking in, Beck.” His voice is all business, but there’s a thread of concern underneath. “Haven’t heard from you in a while. I figured you were keeping busy, but… you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” I glance toward the window where Biscuit is perched on the sill, watching the world go by. Mitts and Hat Trick are curled up on the couch, blissfully unaware that I’m about to get an earful. “Just… taking some time to breathe, you know?”

“Breathing doesn’t make the Ice Hawks millions, Beck.” Dexter’s tone is half-joking, half-serious. “You’ve got a lot on your plate—on and off the ice. And you’re not exactly the type to sit still for long.”

“I’m not.” I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck. “But maybe that’s the problem.”

There’s a beat of silence on the other end before Dexter speaks again. “This isn’t just about hockey, is it?”

“No.” I hesitate, knowing Dex will see right through any half-hearted excuse I give him. “It’s… Abby and Jake.”

“Ah.” Dexter’s tone shifts, softer now. “The writer and her kid?”

“Yeah.” I run a hand through my hair, leaning against the counter. “I don’t know, Dex. They’re… different.”

“Different how?”

“It’s not just the usual fan interaction. Jake’s got this energy… this passion for hockey that reminds me of me when I was his age.” I pause, feeling that familiar tug in my chest. “And Abby… she’s…”

“She’s got you tied in knots.”

I huff out a quiet laugh. “Something like that.”

“So, what’s the holdup?” Dexter’s voice is practical, but I can hear the unspoken question beneath it. “You’ve got the world at your feet, Beck. Money. Fame. Options. If she’s worth it, go for it.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’ve worked too hard to keep my life private.” I exhale slowly, feeling the weight of it settle on my shoulders. “I’ve built walls, Dex. Big ones. And letting Abby in… letting Jake in… it means tearing those walls down.”

“Maybe it’s time,” he says quietly. “You’ve spent years building this empire. You’ve got more money than you know what to do with. But what’s it all for if you’re not happy?”

I glance around my penthouse—sleek, modern, and empty. The view of Elmwood and the surrounding hills and lakes is breathtaking, but lately, it feels like I’m looking out at a world I’m not really a part of.

“I don’t know, Dex,” I murmur. “But I think I’m starting to figure it out.”

“Good.” His voice is lighter now. “Just don’t wait too long, Beck. Life doesn’t wait for anyone.”

“Yeah.” I hang up, but his words echo long after the call ends.

***

Abby and Jake are in my thoughts basically all the time. It’s time to test my heart along with my head again. So, I feed the herd of cats, grab my gear and head to the rink.

The rink feels different today.

It’s quieter, the usual roar of the crowd replaced by the hum of the cooling system and the occasional scrape of skates against the ice. I’ve been in this arena thousands of times, but standing here with Jake and Abby makes it feel… personal.

I steer them to the outside practice rink where we can skate as long as we want. “Ready, buddy?” I ask, watching Jake’s eager eyes widen as he grips his stick with both hands.

“Ready!” His grin is infectious, and I can’t help but smile back.

I crouch slightly, giving him a quick nod. “Okay, try that wrist shot again. Aim for the corner this time.”

Jake skates forward, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he lines up the shot. His form is getting better, more balanced. He’s determined, and I respect that.

“You got this, kid,” I murmur under my breath, watching as he pulls back and sends the puck toward the net.

Ping.

The puck hits the post. Close, but not quite.

“Almost!” I call out encouragingly. “You’re getting there.”

Jake’s face twists with frustration, and he starts to skate toward the puck to try again.

“Hey.” I glide toward him, keeping my tone light. “Wanna know a secret?”

His eyes light up. “A secret?”

I crouch down to his level, lowering my voice like we’re conspirators. “Even the best players miss sometimes. The trick is not letting it mess with your head.” I tap my temple for emphasis. “You miss. You reset. You shoot again.”

Jake nods, his determination returning as he grabs the puck and lines up another shot.

“That’s it,” I murmur softly, pride swelling in my chest.

Abby’s laugh echoes softly from the sideline.

I glance up to see her standing there, bundled in a cozy coat and scarf, her cheeks flushed from the chill in the air. Spotty sits patiently beside her, his tail sweeping back and forth on the smooth concrete as he watches Jake with unwavering focus.

“You’ve got a certain way with him,” Abby says, her voice warm and filled with something I can’t quite name.

“He’s a natural,” I reply, skating over to her. “You’ve got a future All-Star on your hands.”

Her smile is soft, but I catch the flicker of uncertainty in her eyes before she masks it.

“He loves it,” she says softly. “It’s all he talks about.”

“I can tell.” I lean against the boards, close enough to feel the warmth radiating off her despite the chill of the rink. “He’s got good instincts. And that focus? That’s not something you can teach.”

“Alright, Jake,” I call out after another round of drills. “Why don’t you take a few laps while I talk to your mom?”

“Okay!” Jake doesn’t need to be told twice. He zooms off, Spotty watching intently from the sidelines like a loyal coach.

I turn back to Abby, who’s watching Jake with that same faraway look in her eyes.

“You alright?” I ask gently.

She hesitates for a moment before sighing. “It’s just… sometimes I look at him, and I see Ethan. The way he skates. His determination. It’s like… he’s carrying a piece of his dad with him.” Her voice catches slightly, and I see the flicker of pain she tries so hard to hide.

“That’s not a bad thing,” I murmur softly. “It means Ethan’s still with him. With both of you.”

Abby’s eyes meet mine, and for a moment, I see her walls lower just a little. “I know,” she whispers. “But sometimes… it feels like I’m walking a tightrope. Trying to let Jake hold onto those memories while making sure he doesn’t get stuck in the past.”

I nod, understanding more than she probably realizes.

“I get that.”

Her brow furrows slightly. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” I glance toward Jake, watching as he skates effortlessly around the rink. “My parents… they poured everything they had into giving me and my brother a better life. But after I made it big, I felt this weight… this pressure to live up to their sacrifices. I still feel it sometimes.”

Abby’s eyes soften, her head tilting slightly. “That’s a lot to carry.”

“Yeah.” I let out a slow breath. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. And I’m sure Ethan wouldn’t either.”

Abby’s lips curve into a small, bittersweet smile. “No, he wouldn’t.”

For a moment, we just stand there in comfortable silence, watching Jake glide across the ice, his laughter echoing in the empty rink.

“You’re really good with him, you know,” she says softly, her voice barely above the hum of the arena.

“Jake makes it easy.”

“Still.” Her eyes meet mine again, and this time, there’s no mistaking the warmth there. “Thank you, Beck.”

“Anytime.”

Just as I’m about to suggest we call it a day I notice Abby’s expression change. Her smile fades, replaced by a tightness around her mouth, and her eyes cloud over as she watches Jake skate.

“Abby?” I ask softly, but her focus is locked on Jake.

I see it then—the flicker of worry, the weight of single parenthood, and the ache of loss she tries so hard to hide.

She’s carrying more than she lets on.

And I’m starting to wonder if I’m ready to carry some of it with her.