Chapter 6
six
. . .
The banner above the stage reads “Briarwood Heroes Charity Auction — For the Youth Rink Fund!” in letters that are simultaneously too big and poorly aligned. That must have been done at the last minute.
I’m working the check-in table, smiling through chaos like I’ve been trained for this my entire life. Which, as Coach Kessler’s daughter, I basically have been.
“This is going to be a disaster,” I mutter, checking names off the list as people arrive.
“This is going to be amazing,” Ivy corrects, practically vibrating with excitement.
“So,” she says, counting envelopes that people have already submitted with their maximum bids, “five local heroes tonight. Two firefighters, a deputy, one of the new teachers, and—”
She grins wickedly. Dangerously.
“—a surprise hockey player.”
My stomach drops straight through the floor. “No. Absolutely not.”
“Absolutely yes,” Hadley says, not even looking up from the cash box. “And rumor is, your dad volunteered him.”
I squeeze the pen so hard it bends. The plastic cracks under my thumb.
It’s been three days since Jude walked away from me in that hallway. Three days of radio silence. Three days of me pretending I’m fine while teaching scales to children who can sense weakness like sharks sense blood.
And now my father has volunteered him for a bachelor auction.
What in the world is he butting in for?
The lights dim and the crowd starts hooting before the MC even takes the stage. Sheriff Glasgow is up first, looking uncomfortable in a suit that’s slightly too tight around the middle. He goes for fifty bucks to Darlene Snow, who’s been trying to set him up with her daughter for months.
Then the second firefighter, Adam Jacobs, steps up and flexes once. Just once. The PTA loses their collective minds and starts bidding like it’s a Vegas poker game. He goes for a hundred and twenty dollars to the school nurse, who looks far too pleased with herself.
By the time Mr. Bart Landry, the new high school science teacher, gets “sold” the small-town gossip mill is running wild.
I’m starting to relax. Starting to think maybe Jude backed out. Maybe he refused. Maybe he’s not even—
The MC leans into the microphone. He’s also the local radio host and he knows how to work a crowd.
“Ladies and gentlemen, fresh off last week’s Bobcats win, let’s welcome our final bachelor. Number five. JUDE BLOCKTON!”
The room erupts.
My heart stops.
Jude walks out from backstage like a man facing execution. No smile. Just that glacial calm I’ve come to recognize as his default armor. He’s wearing jeans and a button-down shirt. Dark blue. It makes his eyes even more striking under the stage lights.
He looks good. Too good.
He also looks like he’s planning seventeen different escape routes.
Ivy leans over, her voice barely audible over the crowd noise. “Your man cleans up nice.”
“He’s not—” I start, but my voice cracks.
Because he is. He’s definitely my man. Or he was. Or he could be.
Oh my, this is complicated.
The MC launches into a list of Jude’s stats like he’s announcing a boxing match. “Height six-two, plays defense for our beloved Bobcats, rumored to have a heart of gold beneath that scowl. Starting bid twenty dollars!”
Crickets.
Complete silence.
Someone in the back yells, “He doesn’t smile enough!”
Laughter ripples through the room like a wave. Jude’s jaw flexes. That muscle I’ve watched tick a hundred times when he’s annoyed or uncomfortable or trying not to say something.
I can feel the secondhand embarrassment crawling up my neck, hot and prickly.
Ivy elbows me hard enough to just about take my breath. “Bid.”
“I can’t!”
“You must,” Hadley hisses from my other side. “Look at him. You can’t let this happen.”
Another woman calls out, “Ten dollars if he promises to smile!”
Jude’s lips twitch. Almost a smile but not quite. He’s fighting it.
The MC shrugs, trying to keep the energy up. “Do I hear fifteen? Anyone? Fifteen dollars for a date with our star defenseman?”
The silence stretches. Painful and awkward.
Jude’s eyes scan the crowd. I see the moment he finds me. The moment his expression shifts from stoic to something else. Something that looks almost vulnerable.
And then I do it.
“Seventy-five!”
Every head in the room turns toward me.
The crowd gasps. Someone actually gasps.
Jude’s head snaps in my direction so fast I’m worried about his neck.
I’m halfway out of my seat before I realize what I’ve done. My cheeks are burning. My hands are shaking.
The MC grins like Christmas came early. “Sold! To the lovely piano teacher in the front row!”
I bury my face in my hands.
Ivy’s laughing so hard she’s crying. Actual tears streaming down her face. “Sophie. You just bought a man.”
“Not just any man,” Hadley adds, her voice full of unhelpful glee. “Bruiser.”
“I did not! It’s a date. And it’s for charity.”
On stage, Jude rubs the back of his neck. Shakes his head. But I swear, just before he steps down and disappears backstage, I see it.
A smile.
Real and wide and devastating.
The auction continues with raffles and announcements but I can’t focus on any of it. My heart is hammering. My brain is screaming. Ivy keeps elbowing me and making comments I can’t process.
When the crowd finally starts dispersing, I’m still at the table pretending to count cash I can’t actually see through my embarrassment-induced haze.
Footsteps approach. Heavy and deliberate.
I look up.
Jude stands there, towering over the check-in table, arms crossed, expression smug.
“So,” he says, voice low and amused. “You bought me.”
“Technically I bought a date. And technically, I panicked.”
He crosses his arms, eyes glinting with something I can’t quite read. Amusement, maybe. Or satisfaction. “That explains the seventy-five.”
“It was for charity!” My voice comes out higher than intended. “The youth rink fund. That’s a very important cause.”
“Uh-huh.” He leans closer, forearms resting on the table. I can smell his cologne. Something clean and sharp that makes my brain short-circuit.
He lowers his voice. “You realize what this means, right?”
“What?” I manage.
“You owe me dinner. Publicly.”
I blink. “That’s not how auctions work. You owe me the date. I’m the winner.”
He smiles. Slow and wicked and beautiful. “Guess we’ll see.”
Before I can respond, before I can process the fact that we’re actually talking again and he’s not running away, someone calls from across the room.
“Hey, Blockton! You two make a cute couple!”
The whole place laughs. Knowing laughs. Small-town laughs that say everyone’s been watching this unfold.
I look up to fire back something witty. Something deflecting.
But Jude’s expression has shifted. The smile’s gone. That careful mask sliding back into place.
“I should go,” he says abruptly.
“Wait, what—”
But he’s already moving toward the exit.
My dad appears from somewhere, clapping Jude on the shoulder as he passes. “Blockton! Didn’t know my daughter had such good taste.” Dad’s grinning, clearly thinking this is hilarious. “Guess I’ll have to approve all your plays extra carefully now, huh? Make sure you’re good enough for my girl.”
He’s joking. Obviously joking. That’s just how Dad talks.
But Jude’s jaw tightens. “Coach.”
“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.” Dad laughs, squeezing Jude’s shoulder. “Though you better treat her right. I know where you work.”
More jokes. So much for the stern coach persona that would come in handy about now.
Jude nods stiffly and continues toward the door.
I grab my coat and head outside. The cold hits me immediately, sharp and biting.
The parking lot is mostly empty now. Just a few cars left.
Jude’s truck is still here but he’s not in it. He’s standing near the community center’s side entrance, hands shoved in his pockets, staring at nothing.
I’m about to call out to him when I hear voices.
Two guys from the team. Dax and someone else I don’t recognize. They’re walking to their cars, close enough that I can hear them clearly.
“Did you see Blockton up there?” Dax laughs. “Coach’s daughter bought him. That’s hilarious.”
“Think Coach is gonna go soft on him now?” the other guy asks.
“Probably. You know how it is. Date the coach’s kid, suddenly you’re getting extra ice time.”
They’re joking. Just talking trash the way hockey players do. And they’re his friends so surely he knows they’re kidding.
But Jude’s entire body has gone rigid.
“Or maybe Coach’ll be harder on him,” Dax continues. “You know, prove there’s no favoritism. Either way, it’s gonna be weird.”
“Yeah. Team dynamics are gonna be all messed up.”
They laugh and get in their car, completely unaware that Jude heard every word.
I watch him stand there, shoulders tense, jaw working.
Then he gets in his truck.
The engine starts.
I step forward, waving, trying to catch his attention.
He sees me. I know he does.
But he backs out anyway. Drives away without stopping.
I stand in the parking lot, snow starting to fall again, watching his taillights disappear.
My phone buzzes. A text from an unknown number.
It’s just an auction date. Don’t worry about it. - Jude
Just an auction date.
Like it doesn’t mean anything.
Like we don’t mean anything.
The community center door opens behind me. Music and laughter spill out. The party’s still going.
But all I can think about is the look on his face when Dad made that joke. When those guys talked about team dynamics.
He’s running again.
Not from Briarwood this time.
From me.
I pull my coat tighter and head to my car. The snow is falling harder now. Covering everything. Making the world quiet and white and impossibly lonely.
I bought a date with him at an auction tonight.
But I’m pretty sure I just lost him anyway.