I should be heading out by now. We just won another home game, so all is well. My usual post-game routine is clockwork— quick media interviews, a cool-down stretch, a shower, and I’m out of here before the arena empties. But tonight?
I’m still here.
Because Jake and Abby Price are still here.
I glance over to where they’re standing by the player benches, waiting patiently while Spotty sniffs every square inch of the rubber matting. Jake’s animatedly recounting Beck’s third goal to his mom—complete with dramatic reenactments—and Abby’s eyes are glued on him, her smile soft and full of love.
They’re different.
Most of the fans I meet fall into two categories—starstruck superfans or parents dragging their kids through meet-and-greets while checking their phones. But Jake? He’s all heart. And Abby…
I can’t quite put my finger on it, but something about her has me hooked.
Maybe it’s how she watches Jake with such quiet devotion, or the way her laughter feels unfiltered and real. Or maybe it’s the way her eyes—warm hazel flecked with gold—linger on me when she thinks I’m not looking.
Whatever it is… I’m not ready to say goodbye yet.
“Hey, Jake!” I call out, my voice carrying over the low buzz of post-game cleanup. “You ever seen the players’ locker room up close?”
Jake’s head snaps up, his eyes going wide. “Seriously?”
“Seriously.” I grin. “Want a tour?”
“YES!” Jake practically jumps out of his skin, and Spotty barks his approval.
I glance at Abby, raising an eyebrow. “What do you think? Up for a behind-the-scenes tour?”
Abby hesitates, her lips tugging into a half-smile. “As longas Spotty doesn’t destroy anything.”
“Eh, the place has survived worse.” I flash her a reassuring smile. “Come on. I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into too much trouble.”
“Famous last words,” she murmurs, but there’s a flicker of warmth in her eyes as she nods.
“Alright then.” I clap my hands. “Let’s go.”
The moment we step into the locker room, Jake’s eyes go as wide as saucers. “Whoa…” He spins around, taking in the rows of wooden stalls lined with gear, the team’s logo emblazoned on the walls, and the scent of leather, sweat, and fresh tape hanging in the air.
“This is… awesome,” he breathes, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Glad you think so,” I say with a chuckle. “Come on, I’ll show you where the magic happens.”
As I guide them toward the stalls, Spotty trots ahead, his nose twitching as he investigates every corner. Jake follows close behind, his energy practically vibrating off him, while Abby keeps a wary eye on her enthusiastic Dalmatian.
“Just wait until he finds the tape rolls,” I murmur to Abby with a grin. “Dogs love those things. Something about the smell.”
Abby arches an eyebrow, her lips quirking. “Good to know. I’ll add that to the list of things Spotty loves to destroy.”
“I’ve got a list like that for my cats. One of them shredded a vintage jersey once. I still can’t talk about it.”
“Oh no. A jersey tragedy?” she teases.
“The stuff of legends,” I say with a mock-serious nod. “Biscuit the Cat is still on thin ice.”
She laughs, and it settles something in me.
We’re halfway through the tour when I hear the familiar sound of voices and footsteps approaching.
Abby’s watching Jake take in every detail like it’s Disney on Ice. Her expression shifts between amused and awed, like this moment is something she’ll tuck away in her heart.
And suddenly, I want to be part of more moments like that. I’m not the guy who lingers after games. I don’t give tours. I don’t... crave this kind of quiet connection.
But tonight? I’m all in.
Uh oh.
“Yo, Hayes!”
I know that voice. Griffin.
Before I can warn Abby, Griffin Shaw—one of my best friends and the team’s biggest prankster—rounds the corner with Wes Archer right behind him. Both are still in their workout gear, towels slung around their necks and grins plastered across their faces.
“Look who’s giving VIP tours after hours,” Griffin says, his grin widening when he spots Jake and Abby. “And here I thought you were allergic to socializing.”
“Shut up, Griff,” I mutter, but it’s too late.
“Wait, is this the kid who was louder than the announcer tonight?” Wes asks, his eyes landing on Jake with a playful grin.
“Yep,” I reply, ruffling Jake’s hair. “Meet Jake Price. And his mom, Abby.”
Griffin’s eyes flick to Abby, and his grin turns downright wicked. “Ahhh. So that’s why Beck’s still hanging around. Now it all makes sense.”
Abby’s cheeks flush, but she recovers quickly, offering a polite smile. “Nice to meet you both.”
“Pleasure’s ours,” Wes says with an easy nod. “Beck doesn’t give private tours to just anyone. Must be special.”
“Real special,” Griffin adds with a wink, and I swear I’m going to tape his mouth shut.
“Alright, that’s enough,” I cut in, shooting him a warning glare.
“Relax, Hayes,” Griffin laughs, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “Just making an observation.”
“Ignore them,” I tell Abby, giving her a sheepish smile. “They’re harmless.”
“Mostly,” Wes adds with a chuckle.
Jake, oblivious to the teasing, points excitedly at the wall of sticks. “Whoa! Beck, is that your stick?”
“Sure is,” I say, grateful for the distraction. “Want to hold it?”
Jake’s eyes light up. “Can I?”
“Of course.” I grab my backup stick and hand it to him. “Just don’t let Spotty think it’s a chew toy.”
Jake giggles as he grips the stick, holding it like a pro. “I’m gonna practice my slapshot with this!”
“You’ve got a killer wrist shot, kid,” Wes says, ruffling Jake’s hair. “Keep it up, and maybe you’ll be out here with us someday.”
“Really?” Jake’s eyes widen with pure excitement.
“Absolutely.” Wes winks. “We could use someone with that kind of enthusiasm.”
“See, Hayes?” Griffin smirks, leaning casually against the stall. “This kid’s already got a spot on the team. You better watch your back.”
“Yeah, yeah.” I roll my eyes, but I can’t help but smile.
Just as I’m about to steer the conversation back on track, Spotty decides that now is the perfect time to wreak havoc.
With his nose buried in one of the team gear bags, he snags a sock and takes off like a rocket, weaving through the stalls with a victorious bark.
“Spotty, no!” Jake cries, but it’s too late.
Griffin’s laughter echoes through the room. “Oh man, we’ve got a thief on the loose!”
“Get back here, Spotty!” Abby calls, her voice laced with a mix of exasperation and amusement.
But he’s having way too much fun to listen. He zigzags around benches, narrowly avoiding a collision with Wes, who’s doubled over laughing.
“Don’t worry,” I say, already moving to intercept. “I got him.”
I crouch low, waiting for the perfect moment… and pounce.
“Gotcha. Nice try, buddy,” I say, holding Spotty firmly but gently as I wrestle the sock from his mouth. “But I don’t think this is regulation gear.”
Spotty gives me a slobbery lick across the face in response, his tail wagging furiously.
“Gross,” I laugh, wiping my cheek. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”
The entire room erupts with laughter, and when I glance at Abby, her eyes are sparkling with amusement.
We finish the tour a few minutes later, and as I’m walking them toward the exit, I lag behind, giving Jake and Abby a little space.
That’s when I hear it.
“Mom,” Jake whispers, his voice barely carrying over the hum of the empty hallway. “Are you really gonna interview Beck for your article?”
I stop in my tracks, my brows furrowing.
Interview? Abby’s response is quiet, but I catch enough to make my pulse skip. “Yes, honey… but I’m a little nervous about it.”
Why wouldn’t she tell me that herself? And why would she be nervous?
My curiosity sharpens, and for the first time all night, I feel a twinge of something I can’t quite name.
Abby’s hiding something— and for whatever reason I don’t fully understand, it matters more to me than it should.