Page 19 of Second Chance with the Single Dad Goalie (Second Chance Hockey Players #2)

Chapter thirteen

Whitney

T ime moves fast when you’re not watching it.

One moment, I was arriving in Autumn Cove, wondering if I made the right decision. The next, I blink, and three weeks have passed.

Between taking care of the kids and keeping up with work, my days have blurred together in a whirlwind of activity. I’ve filmed more videos and written more posts about Autumn Cove than I can count, capturing its charm in a way that has my audience hooked. It’s been good. Busy, but good.

Yesterday was the annual Bloomtide Festival, and the theme was renewal, hope, and community.

It was nothing short of magical.

The entire town felt like it had stepped straight out of a storybook, every street bursting with color and life.

Flowers were everywhere - woven into braids, pinned to lapels, twining around bicycles, and even the occasional overenthusiastic golden retriever.

The scent of fresh blooms of lilacs, roses, and honeysuckle mixed with the aroma of sugar-dusted pastries, grilled corn, and warm honey drizzling over flaky pastries from the festival stalls lingered in the air.

Music played from speakers along the sidewalks, a light, cheerful melody that set the mood for the day.

Families, couples, and groups of friends strolled through the streets, dressed in soft pastels and floral prints, their laughter blending with the hum of activity.

I spent some time with my family before I had to get the kids ready for the flower parade.

The Flower Parade started in the morning, and the kids were ecstatic.

Children, including Mia and Nico, paraded through town, pushing their tiny, decorated carts filled with carefully arranged spring flowers.

The kids had taken their decorating very seriously—Mia’s cart was an explosion of pink and purple blossoms, while Nico had insisted on adding twigs and tiny stones, claiming they made him ‘cooler’.

Blake walked with them due to Mia’s insistence.

By midday, the Spring Feast which is my favorite because it had one thing I love, food, was next.

Long wooden tables stretched down the main square, covered in white linen and overflowing with trays of pastries, berry pies, roasted vegetables, and fresh fruit.

There was homemade lemonade, honey-drizzled biscuits, bread so soft it practically melted in your mouth, and many other delicacies brought by almost everyone.

Everyone ate to their heart content. I am very sure no one was left out of having a protruding belly.

Then came the Secret Blossom Exchange - a new addition to the Bloomtide Festival tradition. Throughout the festival, people left small bouquets, flower-themed gifts, flower-pressed bookmarks, or handwritten notes anonymously for friends, family, or - most intriguing - secret crushes.

I found a bouquet waiting for me on a bench - a mix of wildflowers and soft pink roses, tied together with twine. There was a note attached to it.

"Some flowers bloom effortlessly, drawing everyone in without even trying. You’re one of them."

No signature. No hint of who left it. Just those words, simple yet strangely intimate.

I stared at the note for a long moment, my heart doing something weird in my chest. Then, almost instinctively, I glanced around the festival crowd, searching for a clue.

Nothing.

The flower is currently in a glass jar by my bedside with the note in my drawer.

By sunset, the energy of the festival softened, and the Wishing Lantern Release began. The Wishing Lantern Release has always been my favorite part. Hundreds of lanterns filled the air and the river. It was breathtaking - like watching dreams take flight.

Nico, who was in Blake’s arms, couldn't take his eyes off the lanterns floating above. Crouching down, I asked Mia.

"What did you wish for?"

"It's a secret!" Mia said, eyes wide with the importance of it as her gaze locked on the lantern as it drifted upward, glowing against the deepening twilight.

And then, to close the night, there was The First Bloom Dance.

The day was so much fun.

Even now, as I sit curled up by the fireplace, watching the flames flicker and crackle, I can still hear the laughter, the music, the warmth of the town coming alive. The scent of spring flowers lingers in my mind.

I pulled the throw blanket tighter around my shoulders and let out a quiet sigh.

"What are you doing here all alone?"

The deep voice startles me, and I jolt, my head snapping toward the doorway. Blake leans against the frame, arms crossed, watching me with that unreadable look he always wears so well.

"Blake!" I press a hand to my chest, glaring at him. "You scared me."

A slow smirk tugs at his lips. "Did I? You looked pretty deep in thought. Should I have sent a warning first?"

I roll my eyes, but he just grins.

"Sorry," he says.

I narrow my eyes on him. “You don’t sound sorry.”

Blake tilts his head, considering. “You’re right. I’m not.”

Resisting the urge to throw a pillow at him, he pushes off the door frame and steps inside. "Mind if I join you?"

I wave a hand toward the couch. "It’s a free country. Knock yourself out."

He huffs a small laugh, crosses the room, and sinks onto the couch beside me, stretching his legs out. The firelight casts warm shadows over his face, softening the sharp angles of his jaw. The only sounds in the room are the low crackling of the fire and the occasional hum of the heater.

"So," he says, stretching his arm across the back of the couch, "why aren’t you sleeping?"

I arch a brow. "Only if you tell me why you aren’t."

His lips twitch. "Oh, I was asleep," he says. "Got up to get water, went to the kitchen, and then…" He gestures lazily toward me. "Saw you sitting here."

"Fascinating," I deadpan.

He chuckles, his voice low. "That’s my deepest, darkest secret. What’s yours?"

“I just…, couldn’t sleep,” I sigh, shifting slightly.

“Hmmm.”

I glance over. “What?”

He shrugs. “Nothing.”

I tilt my head. “No, really. What?”

“Just thinking.”

“About?”

“Never mind.”

Blake studies me for a second like he’s debating whether to push, but then he sighs, clearly letting it go. Instead, he says,

"I came across your article. The recent one, I think. No, you had various recent ones."

I glance at him, surprised. "You did?"

"Yeah." He nods.

“Which one?”

“The one about the hidden spots in Autumn Cove. I really liked it."

A small smile tugs at my lips. "Oh? You don’t have to say that just to be nice, you know."

He huffs out a quiet laugh. "I’m not. I mean it. You made those places sound so incredible. I have to say, you almost convinced me to check out that little book café by the marina.”

I smirk. “Almost?”

“Well, I actually did go.”

My eyes widen slightly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” He leans back against the couch, stretching his legs out. “I had some time after practice, so I stopped by. It’s been a while since I've been there. Well…, not since you…

I frown slightly. “Since me?”

He exhales a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “Have you forgotten? You used to drag me there with whatever change you get.”

Something in my chest tightens.

That’s right. I used to beg him to go with me whenever he was around - shoving books in his hands, forcing him to sit through my readings of fairy tales, romance novels, and adventure stories.

“You hated it,” I murmur, a small smile playing on my lips.

He scoffs. “I tolerated it.”

I laugh. “You complained the entire time.”

“And yet, somehow, you always got your way.” He shakes his head like he still doesn’t know how I managed it. “Anyway, I walked in today, and it was like stepping into a memory. I’ve forgotten how great - quiet, cozy, the place used to be. That old lady who runs it… uh, what’s her name again?”

“Miss Eleanor.”

“Yeah, her. She gave me a whole speech about how people don’t appreciate handwritten letters anymore.”

I laugh. “She does that. She’s a big believer in old-fashioned romance.”

Blake snorts. “She basically called me a lost cause.”

I shake my head, grinning. “I would’ve paid to see that.”

He smirks but then tilts his head slightly. “I also watched some of the videos you took around town. You really captured the beauty of Autumn Cove.”

I smile, warmth blooming in my chest. “Well, Autumn Cove is a beautiful place.”

He nods, his gaze flickering to the fire before returning to me. “You really enjoy this, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” I say without hesitation. “As a travel and lifestyle influencer, I get to explore new places, share experiences, and help people see the world through a different lens. It’s exciting.”

“What’s your favorite place you’ve traveled to?”

I exhale, thinking. “That’s a tough one. But if I had to pick…, Santorini was breathtaking. Kyoto had this perfect mix of old and new, and the Amalfi Coast? Unreal. New Orleans has its own magic, too. The energy, the food, the music - it's incredible.”

Blake listens, nodding occasionally. “Sounds amazing.”

“It really is.” I smirk. "Oh, and I once accidentally ate fried spiders in Thailand."

His expression is blank. "Accidentally?"

I sigh. "Fine. I was curious. But I thought they’d be crispy, not…, whatever texture they were."

Blake shakes his head, chuckling. "Sounds like a self-inflicted problem, Whit."

I place a dramatic hand over my heart. "Wow. No sympathy. Noted."

He grins and I glance at him. “What about you? Ever traveled anywhere outside of hockey trips?”

He gives a small shrug. “Not much. Most of my travel has been for games, so it’s usually hotel rooms, rinks, and airports.”

I hum. “That’s a shame. You should travel for fun at least once.”

“Maybe one day.” His tone is light, but there’s something unreadable in his expression.

We fall into a comfortable silence, the fire crackling between us. The warmth of the room, the quiet of the night - it’s…, nice.

Should I or should I not ask?

"Ask," Blake says suddenly.

I blink at him. "What?"

His gaze holds mine. "Whatever it is you want to ask, Whitney."

I frown. "How…"