Page 9

Chapter nine

Abby

I close the front door behind me and lean against it, pressing my palm flat against the cool wood. My heart’s still racing since the afternoon. The sound of Jake’s laughter echoes in my mind, and I can’t stop thinking about the way Beck guided him across the ice with such patience. The easy confidence in his movements, the gentle encouragement in his voice…

And the way he looks at me.

My chest tightens. Why does he have to be so… so good?

Spotty bounds toward me, his tail wagging wildly as he nudges my leg, demanding attention. “Hey, Spotty,” I murmur, running my fingers through his soft fur. But even his warm presence isn’t enough to quiet the swirling storm in my head.

I push away from the door, walking toward the kitchen on autopilot. Jake’s already in his room, probably replaying the entire afternoon in his head. I can practically hear him narrating every move Beck showed him on the ice. My son is completely smitten with Beck Hayes.

And I’m afraid I might be, too.

“Get it together, Abby,” I whisper, reaching for a glass of water. But my hand trembles slightly as I set the glass on the counter.

This isn’t just a crush.

It’s more.

The way Beck is with Jake… it’s not just kindness or obligation. He genuinely cares. I saw it today in the way he crouched to Jake’s level, explaining the right way to angle his skates. In the way he celebrated every small victory, making Jake feel like the king of the ice.

And then there’s the way Beck looks at me.

Like he sees through every wall I’ve built.

I press my lips together, trying to push away the memories of Beck’s smile when I laughed at Spotty slip-sliding across the ice or the brush of his hand against mine when he steadied me after I nearly fell.

I shouldn’t be feeling this way.

Not after everything I’ve been through.

You can’t risk your heart again, Abby.

But no matter how much I try to convince myself… it’s not working.

I close my eyes, but instead of calming the chaos in my mind, it dredges up a memory I haven’t allowed myself to think about in a long time.

Ethan, my lost husband.

Ethan’s laugh echoes in my ears, warm and familiar. “Come on, Abs. You’re overthinking it,” he’d said one night when we were painting Jake’s nursery. I was agonizing over shades of blue, and Ethan—ever the optimist—just grabbed the brush and started painting.

“It’s just paint. If we hate it, we’ll redo it,” he’d said with that easy smile of his.

Simple. Confident. Sure.

Ethan had a way of making life feel… steady. Like nothing could ever go wrong as long as we faced it together.

But life didn’t play by those rules.

I lost him. Lost him to a drunk driver. Lost him for no other reason than he was at the wrong place at the wrong time.

And when he died, that steadiness—the foundation I built my life on—shattered.

And I’ve been walking on that broken glass ever since.

Beck isn’t like Ethan.

Where Ethan was steady, Beck is a force of nature. His energy pulls me in, shakes up everything I thought I knew, and leaves me breathless.

And that scares me.

Because if I give in… if I let Beck in and everything falls apart again…

I don’t think I’ll survive it.

***

After driving myself half mad with these thoughts playing over and over in my head, I figure I need some distraction.

I don’t even think about it this time. I grab my phone and press Quinn’s name before I can change my mind.

“Hey, Abs!” Quinn’s cheerful voice fills the line, a little burst of sunshine in my otherwise stormy thoughts.

“Hey,” I say softly, curling up on the couch with Spotty by my side.

The silence that follows stretches just a little too long, and I know Quinn’s radar is already up.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her voice immediately laced with concern.

“Why do you always assume something’s wrong?” I try to keep my tone light, but I don’t quite pull it off.

“Because I know you,” she replies gently. “And that’s your ‘I’m trying to pretend everything’s fine’ voice.”

I sigh, rubbing my forehead. “It’s Beck,” I murmur, feeling my heart squeeze just saying his name.

Quinn’s silence is deafening for a beat. Then, “I figured.”

“You did?” I blink, surprised.

“Abby.” Quinn’s voice is softer now, more understanding. “You’ve been quieter lately. And I see the way you look at him at the games when Jake is talking his ear off. You’re not as good at hiding your feelings as you think you are.”

I press my lips together, my throat tightening.

“So…” Quinn coaxes gently. “What’s going on?”

I draw in a shaky breath. “Jake’s crazy about him,” I whisper, my voice barely above a whisper. “And Beck… he’s amazing with Jake. So patient, so kind. He treats him like…”

“Like he’s his own,” Quinn finishes softly.

I nod, even though she can’t see me. “Yeah.”

“And that’s a good thing, right?”

“It should be,” I murmur. “But what if…” My voice catches, and I swallow hard.

“What if he leaves?” Quinn says softly.

The ache in my chest deepens, and my eyes burn with unshed tears. “Jake’s already attached,” I whisper. “If this doesn’t work out…”

“He’ll be heartbroken,” Quinn finishes gently.

“And so will I,” I admit softly, the words finally tumbling out of me. “But it’s Jake I’m most worried about. I can’t let him go through that.”

Quinn’s voice is quiet but firm. “Abby, you can’t live your life preparing for heartbreak. That’s not living. That’s… surviving.”

I bite my bottom lip, blinking rapidly. “I don’t know how to do anything else.”

“Yes, you do.” Quinn’s voice is full of quiet conviction. “You did it before. When you fell in love with Ethan.”

I flinch at the mention of my dead husband’s name, but I don’t pull away.

“He wouldn’t want you to close yourself off forever, Abby,” she says softly. “And I don’t think Beck would hurt Jake. Or you.”

Her words hit me square in the chest.

Could she be right?

“Maybe,” I murmur, my throat tight.

“Just… don’t let fear make the decision for you,” Quinn adds gently. “You owe it to yourself—and to Jake—to give happiness a chance.”

***

The house is quiet. Jake’s asleep, and Spotty is curled up at the foot of his bed, his snores so loud I can hear him in my room down the hall.

With sleep evading me, I sit up in bed hugging my knees to my chest as my mind spins with thoughts of Beck.

What am I so afraid of?

Beck isn’t Ethan. He’s not steady and predictable—he’s unexpected, intense, and… real.

And that’s what terrifies me. Because falling for Beck means stepping into the unknown, and I’ve lived in fear of the unknown since the day I lost Ethan.

But Beck makes me feel things I didn’t think I’d ever feel again.

Hope. Possibility. Love.

My heart clenches painfully at that last word.

I’m falling for him.

Hard.

But if I let myself love him—if I let Jake get too close—and Beck walks away?

It won’t just be me who’s shattered. It’ll be Jake, too.

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I bury my face in my knees.

Beck feels like everything I never knew that I was missing.

But maybe that’s the problem.

Because I know what it’s like to lose everything.

And if Beck leaves, I’m not sure I’ll survive that kind of heartbreak again.

And neither will Jake.