Chapter Six
EDDIE
I’ve watched this scenario hundreds of times.
Joey and his teammates being led out for warm-ups, all limbs and laughter, helmets bopping and skates slashing across the ice. Basically, pure chaos on blades.
It’s a scene I love to watch because I know my kid is out there, having fun. Living his best life. Today is hitting differently. I wasn’t prepared for the sight that comes next.
Sidney gracefully glides around the rink, laughing with my son. When he’s on the ice, he just looks so at peace. Like he was made to glide on frozen water.
This isn’t the hospital version of him with messy hair and panic in his eyes. It isn’t the charity-event version in a team jacket, standing a bit too stiff and uncomfortable. This version of Sidney is electric. With his helmet off, gloves on, and confident smile, he is a masterpiece to behold.
When I think of him from this moment forward—because let’s face it, I will be—I’ll think of this version of him. Strong and happy and carefree. Beautiful beyond anything I’ve ever seen.
Graceful isn’t even the right word. The man moves with ease, with purpose, with the kind of natural fluidity that makes professional athletes look almost unreal up close.
And Joey. Oh my God, Joey. My boy is grinning so hard his face might crack. I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy and actually showing it in a long while. He’s so good at hiding what he’s feeling these days. The joys of being a mom to a teenager.
My fingers slide against the cold plastic rim of the rink, watching as Sidney adjusts Joey’s stance with a tap of his stick.
Joey pivots slightly, earning a nod from his mentor.
Sidney may be a professional goalie, but he knows about every position in the game and is sharing that knowledge with my son.
I keep replaying parts of his speech as I stood there, watching.
The way his voice didn’t waver, even when the truth of his past clearly weighed on him.
To look at him, you would never know that he struggled with anxiety.
The kind that follows him into sold-out arenas and quiet hotel rooms alike.
I think about the pressure stitched into every part of his life: the net behind him, the country watching, the expectation that he’ll always be unbreakable.
And yet he stood there today and chose vulnerability anyway.
Not for headlines. Not for sympathy. For kids. For parents. For people like me, who need to see that strength doesn’t mean silence. Hockey is a beautiful sport, but it can also come with a cost.
I watch him now, how gentle he is with Joey, how patient, how present—like the noise of the world goes quiet when he’s focused on helping someone else stand a little taller.
Knowing that what he carries, what he fights through just to show up like this, makes something warm and fierce bloom in my chest.
I feel closer to him than I did an hour ago. Sidney isn’t just brave on the ice. He’s brave in the places that actually count. And God help me, I think that might be what’s pulling me in the hardest of all
You’re giving away your shot position, I hear Sidney tell Joey with a concentrated look. Which is okay, but you want some mystery when you’re closing in on the net. Your stick is going behind your body and signalling a long-range shot.
Joey looks stunned, like this never occurred to him. I can see him lock in and memorize everything Sidney details to him to develop this new skill.
And that’s it. That’s the moment the warm, gooey part of my heart I’d been keeping under lock and key for the last fourteen years…twitches. Just slightly. It rattles in my chest just enough to catch my attention and have me pausing. Son of a bitch.
I sigh, unable to stop watching. Sidney is patient. Attentive. Encouraging, even when they mess up. All the qualities you want in a coach. Or a…well. No. Nope. Not going there.
I’m sure Sidney’s interest in me is fleeting. I can understand that. Forming a bond in a high-pressure situation has been known to happen, but they always fizzle out. There’s no real way a man like him would be interested in a single mom who’s struggling to get by.
As if he feels my line of thinking, Sidney glances up. Our eyes meet across the rink.
It’s not some dramatic, cinematic moment where the lights dim and angels sing—but it’s close enough that I jerk upright in embarrassment. His mouth curves in a small smile, warm and startled at the same time.
I manage a weak wave, needing to do something with my hands. I could’ve melted through the floor. This is getting ridiculous. I need to get a handle on my emotions. I’ve been in this man’s presence for all of ten consecutive minutes, and I’m already acting like a giggling schoolgirl.
You have got to be kidding me, someone says beside me.
I turn. And immediately regret it.
Rhonda. Of course.
I hadn’t noticed it before—blame it on the caffeine not having hit my system yet an hour ago—but Rhonda is dressed like she’s heading to a morning business interview, not supervising a group of sugar-fuelled all-aged hockey players.
Her arms are crossed, lips pursed, eyes following my line of sight like a hawk zeroing in on prey.
He’s good with the kids, I said casually, praying she’ll take the hint and move along.
Mhmm, she hums. He’s spending an awful lot of time with Joey.
I frown. What do you mean? They just got on the ice.
She tilts her head, giving me the kind of sympathetic look people give when they’re about to say something deeply unhelpful. Borderline crushing.
Oh, Eddie, she sighs. What did I say about keeping it professional?
Excuse me? Who are you, the friend police?
Friends? Is that what you think the rest of us are seeing? She makes a rude noise. You know, she says, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper, men like him aren’t…for people like you.
My stomach dips. What in the actual hell is this woman saying?
I lick my lips, reminding myself that I’m in public, surrounded by young, impressionable kids. It wouldn’t do any good for me to resort to violence. But maybe a good jab in the boob with my elbow—accidentally—would get her to mind her own business. People like me?
You think we don’t know? Me and the other hockey parents?
You can try to hide it all you want, but we know who you’re related to.
She flaps her hand toward Sidney. He dates models.
Actresses. Influencers. You should see the women he’s been photographed with, she cackles.
There’s absolutely no way he’d tarnish his career for you.
I blink, trying very hard not to laugh from the sheer audacity—even though her words hit with more sting than I want to admit.
I had been thinking something along similar lines moments ago.
Yet for her to say that my family is the reason he wouldn’t date me…
is…okay, it’s fair. I can’t let her know that she’s right though. That would give her too much power.
You don’t know anything, Rhonda. He’s just helping the kids run drills.
Ooh, of course, dear, she says soothingly, like I’m a toddler insisting my imaginary friend was real. Just don’t read too much into it. Or…into the staring.
My face heats. What staring?
Oh, please. She smirks. He looked at you the entire time he was reciting his speech. It was almost uncomfortable.
I choke on air. He did not.
She shrugs. Believe what you want. Just remember—men like Sidney Crane don’t settle down with single moms with…
Her lip curls, and I know I’m going to hate her closing line.
Let’s just say, tarnished pasts. This isn’t some romance novel where he’ll risk it all for the woman who is always late to important events.
And with that final dagger, she struts off to the snack table like she hadn’t just slapped me with insecurities I work very hard to keep buried. I press a hand to my chest, trying to breathe past the tightness. It shouldn’t get under my skin. Not really. She doesn’t know anything about me. Or him.
But it does. Of course it does. Goddamn Rhonda.
Sidney Crane is…well, Sidney Crane. A professional hockey player adored by millions.
A celebrity, with the world at his fingertips and the money and connections to do whatever he wants.
He is terrifyingly attractive, charming, and stupidly good with kids.
I’m sure he has his flaws, but from where I’m standing, I can’t see any.
He’s a man who exists in a world I have no business stepping foot into. Rhonda’s right. Not about the single mom bullshit she spewed. I know that was crap, and she was talking out of her ass. But she hit the nail on the head about my past.
There’s no chance I’m going to put Joey in the line of fire.
He already went through being rejected and abandoned by his father and knows that my family wants nothing to do with us.
There’s no way I’m going to let anyone or anything else hurt him.
We’re strong, but even bulletproof glass has its breaking point.
Still… When I look back at the ice, all that doubt wobbles.
Sidney is laughing at something Joey said. Laughing in that rare, genuine way that reaches his eyes. He grabs the top of my son’s helmet and gives it a little shake back and forth, then nudges him back into position with a gentle pat on the shoulder.
My heart flips. Hard.
No. Stop it, Eddie.
You’re imagining things. You’re sleep-deprived. You’re riding a caffeine high and a crush that should not, under any circumstances, exist.
Yet as I watch them side by side—Joey glowing with pure hero worship, Sidney patient and steady and bright—a small part of me, the part that still believes in impossible things, thinks maybe.
Maybe.
Sidney skates one more lap with the kids before volunteers on the ice call out about the last ten minutes of free skate. The group disperses in a chaotic swarm, and Sidney peels off toward the boards. He pops his helmet up, hair damp and cheeks flushed from exertion.
And then he heads straight for me. All that attention and focus directed at me is truly something.
He steps off the ice, unstraps one glove, and offers me a smile that’s too warm, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous sheen. I absolutely do not need this today.
Hey, he says, breath still coming a little fast. Joey’s great out there. He’s got good instincts.
I know, I tell him with absolute confidence. But thank you for saying it, I manage, trying not to let my voice waver. He really looks up to you. He’ll be talking about this event for weeks.
Yeah? His smile softens. Well, he made my morning.
Of course, he has to say things like that. Of course, he has to be kind on top of being stupidly good-looking. Sidney’s gaze flicks briefly past me, checking for nosy hockey moms or stray children, and then his gaze returns, warmer than before.
Listen, he says gently, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s the one who’s nervous. I, um…I’m heading to training camp this week. The season starts soon, and my schedule honestly blows up. It’s going to be chaotic.
My pulse thuds once, hard. He swallows, looking like he’s gathering his courage.
But I’d really like to keep in touch. If that’s something you want too.
My brain scrambles for a polite, mature decline. I want to give him my number. Yet I know if I open that door, it would be near-impossible to close it.
I open my mouth—to say what, I have no clue—but Joey beats me to it.
Mom, Joey says behind me, loud enough to make me jump. Did Sidney just ask for your number?
I snap around. Joey—
But he’s already digging into my sweater pocket like a raccoon. He pulls out my phone, unlocks it with the ease of a child who has absolutely zero respect for personal boundaries, and shoves it into Sidney’s waiting hand.
Here you go! Joey beams, proud of himself. She has no time to text people, so you gotta text her first.
I want the ice to crack open so I can take a running leap into that void and have it swallow me into an alternate dimension.
Sidney doesn’t move though. Probably too stunned by my traitor of a son.
He just holds the phone loosely, eyes lifting to mine for permission.
When he tilts his head, as if to say a silent please, I give in. There’s no other option.
It disarms me more than the request itself. I swallow, and my stomach flips. My feet feel rooted to the floor.
Finally, with a tiny sigh of surrender—because saying no in front of my starstruck son feels impossible—I give a reluctant nod.
Sidney’s smile spreads slowly, lighting up his whole face. He types in his number, saves it, then types something else out before handing the phone back with a soft There. No pressure, but I will text first.
I look at my screen and see that he’s texted himself, so he now has my number too. Joey practically levitates beside me, grinning so hard his cheeks wobble. Mom, you have Sidney Crane’s number, he whisper-yells beside me. He reaches to adjust my phone so he can see the contact name and gasps.
Okay, that’s enough, I say, redirecting his face toward the concession stand before he explodes.
Sidney chuckles, sliding his helmet under his arm. I should get back out there.
Right, I say, my voice an octave too high.
It was really good seeing you, Eddie.
You too.
He starts to turn away, then glances back for one last look, eyes sweeping over me as if he wants to say something else but decides against it.
Talk soon, he says softly.
And then he’s gone, following a line of kids back onto the ice, all of them wearing matching gleeful smiles. I stand there gripping my phone, heart pounding, Rhonda’s words buzzing faintly in the back of my mind.
Because suddenly, it feels like I’m standing on the edge of something enormous.
A cliff. A terrifying, dizzying shift I hadn’t prepared for.
And I’m not sure whether I’m about to fall…or find new ground to stand on.