GOOD LUCK, COACH WESTMORE was written across the banner hung on the wall of the Slope and Hatch. Behind a long table, the kids from the team and their parents all waited for him after practice the following evening. Possibly the last practice he would coach that year.
The involuntary lump that rose in his throat was embarrassing and unexpected. “You tricked me,” he told Taylor, rustling her hair.
“You mean you really didn’t know?” she asked, looking pleased to have been able to fool him about the surprise gathering.
He hadn’t suspected a thing. No one had said a word, and he hadn’t thought that anyone knew his plan to try out, other than Darryl and his niece. Apparently, they’d spread the word. “I had no idea,” he said. “You masterminded all of this?”
“Me and Dani,” she said proudly.
His gaze went to the other little girl at one end of the table and he winked at her before letting it move on to Abby, looking uncomfortable and nervous next to her daughter.
Uncomfortable, nervous, and beautiful. Damn her for looking so irresistible at a party meant to say goodbye. Though he was surprised she was there at all.
She smiled in greeting, but it fell short of her eyes.
“Come on, you get to sit here,” Taylor said, leading him toward the opposite end and pulling out his chair. A new Colorado Eagles jersey lay across it, his name on the back.
Wow.
He didn’t trust his voice, so he just fist bumped the kids around the table, avoiding the eyes of their parents, who would no doubt recognize the emotional wreck they’d just reduced their coach to.
He sat in the chair and picked up the jersey. “Thank you guys…and girls,” he said, finally. “This was nice of all of you.” He didn’t even mind the extra layer of pressure it added to the already stressful tryouts ahead. “Now I have to get back on the team, huh?” he joked, but suddenly failure wasn’t an option. Not with so many people believing in him, hoping he would succeed.
“The jersey was Ms. Jansen’s idea,” Taylor said, sitting in the seat next to him.
His gaze searched for hers at the end of the table, but she refused to look at him. And while he knew he should be grateful for her support and the thoughtful gesture, it just felt like one more way she was telling him to move on.
The last few weeks had played over and over in his mind, but he’d yet to come to any sort of conclusion that made sense, that made moving on without her easier. He knew she was lying about not having feelings for him, that she was scared. He understood that. He just wished she’d have enough faith in him—in them—to take a chance.
“To Coach Westmore,” Darryl said, standing and holding up his mug of soda.
The kids all held up the glasses and echoed the sentiment.
He raised his own and forced a smile. “No pressure,” he said.
* * *
“I can’t believe everyone brought me fabric,” Becky said the following day once the baby shower was over. She sat in the nursery in the new deluxe comfort rocking chair, her gift from Neil, and propped her feet up on the matching ottoman, as Abigail hung an animal-themed mobile above the crib.
“I told you everyone is supporting the new business. Besides, they’re all at various stages of pregnancy themselves. Don’t think for a second they don’t have ulterior motives. Before long, they will all be hitting you up for your latest and coolest Baby Chic,” she said, climbing down from the step stool. “There.”
“What about you?” Becky asked.
“Dani is too big for baby clothes,” she said.
Becky tossed a stuffed elephant at her. “You know what I mean. Do you think you’d eventually want to have more kids?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know. If I ever found the right situation…the right man,” she said, playing with the tag on the elephant’s ear. Jackson had left that morning for tryouts, but he hadn’t been far from her thoughts or her tortured heart all day. She wished him luck, and no part of her hoped he didn’t make the team. Okay, maybe just a tiny, teensy, weensy selfish part.
Becky eyed her. “He would have stayed.”
Damn. Were her feelings for Jackson and his decision that obvious? She cleared her throat. “There was no reason to.”
“Of course there was. Try bullshitting someone else. That look you get on your face when he’s around is the same look he gets about you.” She shook her head. “I just can’t believe he’s repeating past mistakes all over again.”
“It’s not like that. Besides the fact that he deserves to go after this shot at the career he’s always wanted, there’s the fact I’m still his best friend’s ex-wife. There’s rules about that.” She wasn’t about to tell her friend they’d already broken those rules—twice—and that they’d both been willing to throw away the rulebook for a shot at a future together before this opportunity had presented itself.
“Forget that! Dean was an asshole. You know that. Jackson knows that. You two deserve happiness—together,” Becky said. “Don’t tell me you don’t have feelings for him.”
She sighed. “Fine. I have feelings for him.” Lots of feelings, deep feelings, strong feelings. “But it would never work. Dean really left a scar with his betrayal, and as often as I tell myself it’s not fair to make someone else pay for the trust Dean destroyed, I just know I can’t go through all of that again. Every time he went away with the team, I’d be worried and wondering if he was messing around…” She set the stuffed toy inside the crib. “I can’t risk my heart like that again.”
“Jackson is not like Dean,” Becky said, softly.
Abigail gave a weak smile. “Dean wasn’t like Dean in the beginning, either.” The game had a way of changing things, and long road trips away from home…Not all men were like Dean, that was true, but after being with one who was, and suffering through the damage he’d caused, she wasn’t ready to do it again. “Besides the trust thing, I’m just not willing to be a hockey wife again.” Not even Jackson’s?
“I think you both just like being miserable,” she said through a yawn.
“And I think you should get some sleep. This baby is going to be here any day, and then you won’t get the chance again for, what, two years?” she asked, grateful for the opportunity to change the subject.
“You suck. You better help me with this business, Abby.” She looked anxious as though maybe realizing for the first time how much work she was committing herself to.
“I will. Stop worrying. You’re going to be fine. Better than fine.” She helped her friend to her feet and gave her a hug.
“What about you, Abby? Will you be better than fine?”
She forced a fake smile as she said, “One day, I will be better than fine, I promise.” She just wasn’t sure when that day would come. But she had faith it would.
* * *
Jackson sat on the bench in the Eagles’ locker room at seven the next morning. Tryouts started at nine, but he’d been sitting outside the arena in his truck for over an hour, waiting for the doors to be unlocked. He needed time alone to reacquaint himself with his former home rink. The place he’d spent hours and hours practicing and playing and waiting.
Waiting for the big break that never came.
The cold, dark stadium, filled with the echoes of past players competing to be the best, to get to that next level in their dreams, used to fill him with motivation. The familiar mottos on the inspirational posters on the walls; quotes from the greats—Gretzky, Orr, Hull—used to pump him up, remind him what was needed to succeed. Hard work, dedication, mental toughness.
But today, the posters, the silence of the empty locker room, and the chill in the air only reminded him of his previous failed attempt and the foolhardy longshot hope of a better outcome this time.
What was he doing here?
He stared at his tryout jersey hanging on the hook near the locker they’d assigned him. The masking tape across the front of the locker with his name on it only further served to remind him this tryout was no guarantee of a future in the game. The next day, the tape could easily be removed, and another name could take its place.
He ran a hand through his hair, fighting the urge to pack up and go home.
He had to see this through. He thought about the kids on his team who looked up to him and wanted him to succeed; all of his own childhood hopes and dreams had reflected in each of their faces as they’d wished him luck two days before. Even if he didn’t make the team, he had to give it his best shot—for them.
Removing his shoes, he slipped his feet into his skates, letting them find comfort in the familiar. He laced them, untied them, then laced them again.
As he stood and pulled his jersey down over his head, the name on the back caught his attention. He was a Westmore. And Westmores showed up to win, or they didn’t show up at all.
A dull ache in his chest made it difficult to breathe. He’d shown up for Abby and failed. What made him think this tryout would be any different?
He shook off the self-doubt crippling him. This time he refused to let anyone down.
* * *
He must have made the team.
Dani’s high-pitched squeals could be heard all over Abigail’s parents’ house. All morning, the only thing Dani had talked about was the fact that today was decision day.
“Taylor says the team has two spots open. She said Coach told her there were fifteen guys at tryouts yesterday. She said his odds of getting a spot were like one in a hundred, but he’s really good. He’ll make it. Don’t you think, Mom?”
Oh God, what a loaded question. Instead of answering, she’d threatened to put her daughter to work peeling potatoes for dinner if she stayed in the kitchen any longer.
But now, Dani rushed back in. “He made it. Coach Westmore made the team,” she said, out of breath as she jumped the height of herself in the kitchen.
“You would think she’d made the team,” Abigail’s mother said, carrying the bowl of potatoes to the sink.
“That’s wonderful,” Abigail said, forcing a smile as she glanced up from peeling carrots. She wished she sounded more genuine and less heartbroken. But all day she’d been a mess. No matter how she tried to keep herself busy, her mind had constantly returned to Jackson and the tryouts and how she felt about everything. If he made the team, he would be staying in Loveland, and the chance of them being together and trying to make a long-distance relationship work seemed improbable. The East Coast Hockey League games were usually from Thursday to Sunday and practices were earlier in the week. He’d be lucky to have much time off, and she had a full-time teaching job now; she couldn’t just abandon her own life to make the two-hour drive often enough for either of them to be happy for long. Then if he got called up, things got even more complicated.
But if he didn’t make the team…then what?
But now it didn’t matter—he’d made it.
“Tell Taylor to pass along my congratulations,” she said.
“I will,” Dani said, immediately texting her friend back.
When she left the kitchen, her mother touched her shoulder. “I’m not going to ask how you really feel about it, because I think the way you are attacking that poor carrot says it all. I’m sorry, darling,” she said, grabbing a second peeler and starting to help.
Abigail shook her head. “I really am happy for him.” He was getting another well-deserved shot at his dream. Everyone deserved that chance. She was starting over—building a new life—and he should be allowed to follow his heart as well.
“Happy for him, maybe, but sad for you?”
She sighed. Her feelings for Jackson had come out of nowhere. And his confession of love had surprised and confused her. But her mind wasn’t foggy anymore, and one thing rang true more than anything else: she’d fallen in love with him.
“Yeah. Maybe a little sad for me.”
Her mother’s smile was encouraging. “You have to do what makes you happy. If being in a relationship with a hockey player isn’t what you want anymore, then being with Jackson will never bring you the happiness you want. Sometimes love just isn’t enough, sweet girl.”
She swallowed hard. Her mother was right. She didn’t want the hockey life anymore. The problem was a life without Jackson didn’t appeal to her, either.