Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Jacob
Taking a swig of my drink, I wish it were something stronger.
The last time I felt this exposed was when I announced I’d be retiring.
Setting my glass on the table, my eyes lift to the woman across from me, and I pin her with my gaze.
“No, it wasn’t. There was only one thing I loved as much as hockey back then, and it was your mom. ”
Becca’s eyes widen, and her face flushes. She turns her gaze to the menu in her hand, avoiding meeting mine, or any of her sons’, eyes.
Looking over at Wyatt, I see his jaw is slightly hinged. He snaps it shut and gives me the slightest nod, and the vice gripping my chest eases a smidge.
“Were you a player on and off the ice?” Miles’ questions next, his voice clipped. I consider what he said and look him square in the eye when his glittering gaze catches mine. I gulp, against the sudden dryness in my throat. This young man is on a mission, and I’m the assignment.
“Not really.” I hold his stare as I respond, knowing that any sign of hesitancy is going to make him and Wyatt more suspicious.
If I want any chance with Becs, I have to get through her boys first. “It took me a few years to settle in when I made it to The Show. A couple of times, I thought I was getting bumped.”
Some of the hardness leaves Miles’ expression, and I hear Becca gasp from the other end of the table.
“I didn’t know.”
“No one did.” I shrug, wrapping my hand around the cup in front of me, pulling my gaze from Becca’s surprised one, and glancing down. “I didn’t even tell John.”
Taking another sip, I work to get rid of the cotton that’s making a home in my throat. I haven’t ever said the words I’m about to say out loud before, and yet it feels like the right time.
Gripping the glass so tight I’m afraid it might break, I finally speak.
“I lost my mom less than a year before I was drafted. My dad didn’t take it very well and wasn’t there to support me.
The family I relied on while in Maple Ridge was your mom and your uncle, but I didn’t want them to know how hard it was for me being out on my own.
Anytime John called, I told him everything was great. ”
Lifting my eyes up, I glance around the table, stopping to look directly at Steven, Wyatt, and Miles. Steven stares back at me with understanding. It all makes sense why I’m here. Wyatt’s gaze is conflicted, and Miles’ expression is guarded.
“I was doing what I needed to do to keep my spot, but I had to really work for it.”
“That’s why you’re so good at drills,” Steven smiles and nods.
My cheeks pull up, exposing a full set of teeth, and I dip my chin. “The drills. I lived on the ice, working all of them until I didn’t have to think about what I was doing. Before I knew it, things were clicking with my teammates, and I even had a nickname.”
“‘The Jet’” Becca’s soft voice reaches me, and I look at her, her glassy eyes causing warmth to blossom throughout my chest. I was such a fool for shutting her out back then.
“Yeah. I thought it was so stupid, but by getting that nickname, it finally meant I was part of the team. I belonged.”
“Yet you never came back to town, why?” Miles probes, doubt filling his expression. As much as I hate all these questions, my respect for him goes up several notches.
“Actually, I did come to visit for a short time, five years after I left.” My gaze falls on Becca. “The Hurricanes were playing the Wolverines, and I met up with your Uncle after the game. He told me your mom was seriously dating someone.”
Becca’s hand slides up her neck and rests on her throat.
“Despite knowing that, I stopped back in town for a bit and saw them together. They were so very happy and in love.” Tightness wraps around my chest at the memory, remembering how it felt knowing I’d lost her.
“I left without ever saying I was sorry or telling her how much I missed her. At that point in time, it would’ve been selfish. ”
“How many times did you circle the rink looking for Mom in the stands?” Steven catches me off guard with his question.
“Years,” I answer without hesitation. Becca’s mouth forms an ‘O’, but she doesn’t say a word.
“Are you planning on sticking around Maple Ridge, or is this just a pit stop?” Wyatt quizzes. The questions come rapid fire.
My gaze is still holding Becca’s, my pulse banging against my ears. “That all depends.”
If the woman sitting across from me told me she wanted another chance, there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make it happen. But she’s not the only one who has to be okay with it now.
“If Mom decides she wants you in her life…” Miles narrows his eyes at me, and I gulp. But then he turns to face Becca. “Just remember all three of us can out-bench you, old man.”
“Ever Google ‘how to date your teenage crush without getting murdered by her sons’?” Steven snickers.
My eyes pop open, and Becca throws her head back and laughs. Wyatt and Miles join in, but then all three of them turn their gazes to me.
There is no mistaking the message: IF their mom wants a second chance, I’ve officially been warned. If I mess it up again, there won’t be a penalty box, just an ejection.
Driving down the dark street from the restaurant, I head to my childhood home while memories of days gone by run through my mind. The life I thought I’d have versus the life that was mine.
It was a good life. A great life by many standards. And yet it always felt a bit empty. Lonely even.
I didn’t just circle the stands for Becca, I looked for her and my mom. No, I’m not crazy. I knew my mom wouldn’t be there, but I could never stop looking. It took me years to break the habit. She was always in the stands cheering me on, until she wasn’t.
Dad would work odd shifts being a state government official, but Mom would never miss a chance to watch me skate. And then a few years later, Becca joined her.
When Mom passed, Dad couldn’t step foot in a hockey rink and didn’t until the last season of my career. But Becca, she never stopped showing up.
Until I pushed her away.
Tonight was the first time I was honest with myself and her about how much regret I’ve had shutting her out, and it was only because of her boy’s interrogation.
Well, maybe that’s not true…Maybe I was waiting for an excuse. Them asking all those questions was—
Cough-cough-sputter.
“No. Please. Don’t tell me—”
Glancing down, the gas light catches my attention right when the car makes a final put-put…pfft.
Groaning, I let the car roll to the side of the road and drop my head on the steering wheel before placing the transmission into park.
Running late to work with Steven, I passed the gas station with the intent of stopping there on the way home, but then was completely sidetracked by everything else that happened tonight. On my final pass, on the way to my house, they were closed.
Guess my hope I could make it home and then to the gas station tomorrow was too big an ask.
Scrolling through my contacts, one name stands out to me, but I hesitate, and then scroll past it to her brother’s name.
As quickly as I open a text conversation, I close it and scroll back.
Jacob:
Hey.
Can I ask a favor?
I stare at the screen, re-reading my text and chewing on my bottom lip.
Shaking my hand through my hair, I groan.
“Good Job, Jake. You should’ve—”
Just then, three dots pop up, and my pulse jumps to my throat.
Becca:
You can always ask…
A smile breaks across my face, and an ache rips through my chest. I’ve missed her teasing.
Becca:
What’s up?
My hand hovers over the keyboard as I start to type the message, but then erase it. There is no way I’m telling her I ran out of gas. I’m not going to give her a reason to make fun of me, at least not until after she gets here.
Jacob:
My car broke down.
Would it be too much to ask for you to come pick me up?
The three dots pop up, and I stare at the screen, waiting for her to answer. When the dots disappear, I start typing a message telling her it’s fine, I’ll reach out to John. But then she responds.
Becca:
Did you run out of gas?
Sure, I can come pick you up.
Tell me where you are, and I’ll head on over.
Waiting for Becca to get to me is the longest ten minutes of my life, and yet it’s still not enough time for me to figure out a way to bring up what I said tonight at dinner. I don’t want to drive over it. I meant every word, and I need to know if she still feels the same.
I know her brother won’t be happy about it, but he’ll just have to get over it.
There is no way I’m letting her get away again.
But then a thought rolls over me that leaves me gasping for breath.
What if I’m already too late?