Chapter Eight
Becca
Swallowing hard, I’m determined to keep my focus on what my son is doing and not the man coaching him. I don’t need to look at Jacob to know he’s watching me. Every time he glances up, I feel heat prick against my skin like little sparks of energy buzzing through every inch of me.
What made me think touching him at the coffee shop was a good idea? The moment my palm made contact with his arm, there was an immediate reaction that shot straight to my chest. It wasn’t smart, but when his eyes filled with fear at the mention of the fundraiser, I felt compelled to comfort him.
I thought bringing up a neutral topic would settle my nerves, not to mention distract me from the emotions his being back has brought to the surface. Instead, I opened a Pandora’s box, one that I want to explore deeper.
Slowly inhaling, I run a hand through my hair before blowing out a huff of breath. My phone buzzes, and I see a text from Wyatt.
Wyatt:
We’re almost there! Steven isn’t done yet, is he?
Becca:
Nope. Just getting started on round two!
Wyatt:
YES!
A grin spreads across my face, and I lift my gaze to the ice. Steven is making his way back to Duncan and Jacob, determined but tired. I let my eyes drift past my son over to his coach, only to slam into a pair of dark brown eyes.
My heart jumps to my throat, and my throat works to push it down, then slowly look away. Acting like it didn’t mean a thing. Flexing my hands, I take a few deep breaths in an attempt to gain control of my galloping pulse.
I forgot how dark his eyes can look at times, almost black, like they could pull me in without even trying.
“I’m gonna miss you so much, Becs. But I promise to call once I’m settled in.” Jacob’s arms are wrapped around me, crushing me to him. It’s hard to breathe, but I don’t care. He’s leaving, and my soul is begging him to stay. “Then we’ll figure things out, okay?”
I nod against his neck, my throat too tight for words to push through.
“Becca?” He says, concern dripping from his voice, before he puts my feet back on the ground. “Look at me, Becs.”
Shaking my head, tears burn the back of my eyes. He gently places a thumb under my chin and lifts. I’m so happy for him and this opportunity, yet I’m so ridiculously sad. We just admitted our feelings, and now he’s leaving; it’s not fair.
“Rebecca,” Jacob’s voice takes on a teasing tone, and my mouth tugs up. I know he’s trying to get a rise out of me. “Please look at me.”
His voice is pleading, making my core melt. I lift my gaze to his. The love reflected in his eyes steals my breath. Lifting me up, he pulls me so close that I’m not sure where he begins and I end.
“I love you so much. I promise I’ll call,” he says, his voice gruff.
“I know.” I pull back from him and force a smile. “I love you too, and I’m truly so excited for you. Really.”
“The timing stinks.” He leans in and gently presses his lips to mine and lingers. Then blows out a deep breath.
“C’mon, Jake!” My brother yells next to our faces, and the clap of his hand on Jacob’s shoulder echoes. “You’re gonna miss your flight!”
One more squeeze, and then Jacob puts me down and heads to the car. He gets in the passenger seat and points at me. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
Pressing my hand to my mouth, I blow him a kiss, and watch the car drive away, feeling like I’ll never see him again…
“Mom.” Wyatt’s deep voice pulls me from a memory I’ve buried. One that had me crying for months after Jacob left to go play in the NHL. “Are you okay?”
“Hey, honey!” I lean into him and give him a side hug. “I’m fine, just got a bit lost in the past. Where’s your brother?”
“He’s down by Scarlett.” Wyatt points a few rows down where Miles is listening intently to whatever she’s saying. “I think he’s trying to get dirt on Steven’s training.”
“Well, that’s not going to happen. If we know anything about Scarlett, it’s that she only tells Steven what she really thinks about his skating. And she’s usually right…”
“Who’s usually right?” Miles asks as he leans in and kisses me on the cheek before sitting on my other side.
“Scarlett,” Wyatt answers. “Did you get the inside scoop?”
“Nah, she just said that Steven is taking a beating.” Miles sits down next to me and rests his hands on his knees, watching Steven intently. “Wow! Look at him. Huge improvement from the last time I saw him play. I can barely tell which side is his weak one.”
“Coach James made the right choice calling in ‘The Jet’ for help.” My cheeks pull up at that stupid nickname. Yeah, I said it, it’s dumb. So Jacob was fast, but why couldn’t they come up with something more clever? Wyatt’s brows knit together as he watches me. “You don’t think so, Mom?”
“Think so, about what?”
“Are you sure you’re okay, lady? Usually you’re on top of the conversation.” Miles throws his arm around me and gives me a gentle shake, making me giggle.
“Maybe the cold air is getting to me.” I gently shove him off, only to have him wrap his arms around me and squeeze tighter, while rocking me back and forth. “Miles! What are you doing?”
“I think you need a hug.”
Blowing out a chuckle, I wrap my arms around my goofy son, squeezing, and for the first time since Jacob arrived in town, I feel my body relax.
“Oh snap!” Wyatt exclaims.
“What?!” Miles looks around the rink, trying to figure out what’s going on.
Glancing down at the ice, I see Duncan handing Jacob a bucket of pucks.
“J.T. just told Steven to do the Puck Punisher.”
Watching Steven’s face, I see the determination, but also the fatigue.
As a mom, one of the hardest things to do is stand by and watch how hard your sons have to train in order to be elite athletes.
Steven is strong. He can do this, but all I want to do is wave my hand and tell them practice is over.
“Whoa. Did you see that, Miles?”
“See what?”
“‘The Jet’ checking out Mom.” Miles’ brows pull together, and his lips form a hard, straight line.
“I’m sure you’re misreading things. Jacob is Uncle John’s best friend.” I wave a hand in the air, attempting to dismiss his theory. “We grew up together.”
“And he had a thing for you,” Wyatt scowls at Jacob, and a nervous chuckle falls from my mouth, causing both my sons to whip their heads toward me. “And you had a thing for him?”
“Boys,” I cover a nervous laugh with a cough, patting them both on their arms. “You’re making something out of nothing. It was ages ago.”
“WHAT?!” They rumble, staring open-mouthed at me before turning to glare at Jacob.
And just like that, my son's wanting to grill J.T. ‘The Jet’ Thornton takes on a completely different meaning.