What do you think, Grandma?” Dani did a quick turn in the living room entryway, showing off her new team jersey.
From where she stood near the door, keys in hand, waiting to take her daughter to her first hockey practice, Abigail prayed Dani had yet to learn her grandmother’s facial expressions. This particular scrunching of the nose and wrinkling of the forehead combination was one Abigail had seen growing up quite often—it easily translated to Are you out of your mind?
“Doesn’t she look great, Grandma?” she asked tightly, hoping her own agree-or-I’ll-strangle-you expression was just as clear.
Her mother seemed to take the hint. “Oh yes, wow. Hockey, huh?” Her look of irritation was now redirected at Abigail, but at twenty-nine, she no longer cared. If hockey made her daughter happy, they all had to suck it up.
“Yeah. There were only two girls that made the team, and I was one of them,” Dani said, packing her new gear into the oversized duffel bag.
“Well, isn’t that lucky?” Isabelle said.
“Not lucky at all. She worked really hard at tryouts, and Coach Westmore was smart enough to pick her as the newest right wing for the team.”
“Coach Westmore? Jackson Westmore?”
“Well, it’s certainly not Ben or Asher,” Abigail said. She still couldn’t believe Jackson’s bad luck. Having both of his brothers playing in the NHL—a dream he’d always had for himself—couldn’t be an easy pill to swallow. Not that she was prone to feeling sympathy for the man. In fact, after the awkward tension in the staff room, it was taking all her strength not to question any of the feelings she was suddenly experiencing. Usually his opinion of her was written all over his face, but that day, there was a different expression in his blue eyes. One that she couldn’t quite put her finger on, but definitely had her on edge. His challenge over the jersey had sparked an electricity that she hadn’t felt in a long time…a sensual energy that had almost knocked the wind from her lungs. Thank God Dani had entered when she had. Though she had no idea what would have happened if she hadn’t. “Let’s go, Dani.”
Her mother stood, setting her cross-stitch aside. “Can I talk to you for a second?”
Oh, here we go. “Actually, Mom, can it wait? We only have fifteen minutes to get to the arena.”
“This will take two,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen.
Abigail turned to Dani and tossed her the keys to the SUV. “You can head out. I’ll just be a second.”
In the kitchen, Isabelle said, “Hockey? She’s a little girl.”
“And she wants to play. I don’t see the problem.” She wasn’t about to admit she’d seen countless problems with it over the last week since Dani had brought it up.
Her mother sighed. “And Jackson Westmore? He is not your friend, you know that right?”
Quite well. He’d never been anywhere near friendly, and she knew his loyalty was with Dean. She didn’t plan on talking to him about anything other than hockey or the needed fundraising for the team, especially not after the other day.
But damn, even that sounded like a lot of awkward, tension-filled conversations with the man. “Don’t worry, Mom. I haven’t forgotten who I’m dealing with.” She leaned forward and gave her mother a quick hug. “We have to go. Please try to be supportive, for Dani’s sake?” she said, leaving the kitchen.
“I’ll try,” she muttered behind her. “But you could have at least insisted on putting Jansen on the back of the jersey.”
* * *
“Is this the reluctant hockey moms’ section?”
Abigail turned her attention to the woman standing next to her. She’d been so tormented waiting for Dani to leave the locker room, she’d barely noticed her approaching. “Becky?” Her eyes widened as she took in her old friend from high school. Jackson’s older sister hadn’t changed a bit: same shoulder-length brown hair with the flyaway unruly side bangs, the same crystal blue eyes that ran in their family, and the warm, welcoming smile that reflected her personality. Unlike her annoying, arrogant brothers, Becky was the one Westmore Abigail had always liked, and she was genuinely happy to see her. “Oh my God—hi,” she said, leaning in to hug her quickly. “How are you?” She knew her friend had lost her first husband in a search and rescue accident a few years before.
“Well, remarried and pregnant again,” she said, motioning to her belly straining against the buttons on her red, down-filled winter coat.
Abigail smiled. “How far along are you?” She’d guess about eight months.
“Twenty-two weeks.”
Her eyes widened even further. Five and a half months? Maybe it was true that you gain more on second and third babies than you did on the first. She probably would never know.
“I knew it. I’m huge aren’t I?”
“No!” Great. Insult one of the nicest women in town, probably one of the few who would welcome her and Dani back to Glenwood Falls with no preconceived judgments. “No. You look wonderful.”
Becky grinned. “I’m teasing. I’m twenty-nine weeks and three days and seriously counting.”
Abigail’s shoulders relaxed. “That was mean.”
“Sorry. Just thought you might need a distraction from worrying about Dani.”
She was right about that. Arriving at the arena, Dani had immediately disappeared into the locker room, refusing Abigail’s offer to help her get ready, and she’d been left alone to wander out to the bleachers, where her nerves could take over and every bad thing that could possibly happen came to mind. “I’m so nervous for her. How are you so calm and cool about this?”
“I’m not, but what choice do I have? We’re a hockey family.” She took a sip from a thermal mug and reached into her oversized purse for a soft cushion, placing it on the hard wooden bench before sitting.
Wow, she came prepared. Abigail sat on the peeling bench and tucked her frozen bare fingers under her legs. She should have remembered how cold the arena was, but when outside was ten degrees warmer, it was hard to remember the chilled air that smelled sharp, thanks to the ammonia injected into the cold brine running through the pipes under the ice to keep it frozen.
“So, I hear you’re teaching at the school,” Becky said, reaching into her coat pocket and handing her an extra pair of gloves.
Abigail accepted the warm, stretchy gloves gratefully. “Thank you.” She slid her hands in. “Actually, I’m just subbing for now. I’m hoping for the full-time position once Kelli Fitzgerald goes on maternity leave.”
“Our due dates are a week apart, but this is her first baby, so I’m hoping to race her to the hospital. There’s bets going around on the PTA committee if you want to get in on it.”
Abigail laughed. “You’re okay with people betting on your delivery times?”
“It’s a small town. We find amusement where we can get it. Besides, I started the whole thing.” She took a sip from her mug. “Hot chocolate?” she offered.
“No, thank you.”
“Well, it didn’t take you long to get back into things. How’s the fundraising committee?”
“Principal Breen must have caught me in a moment of insanity. I never thought there would be so much work involved with elementary school fundraising.” The Dreams for Life charity had required work, but most of it involved charity dinners and golf tournaments with the players, hospital visits for sick children, that kind of thing. The school fundraising efforts were frequent and time-consuming—bake sales every month, bottle drives all year round, chocolate bar sales in the spring…Luckily Kelli had kept accurate records of everything.
When she glanced toward her, Becky was grinning above her mug.
“What?”
“Nothing.” She shrugged.
“That look was not nothing. Out with it.”
“I was just thinking about how your involvement is probably driving Jackson nuts.”
Working together would be a challenge, but Abigail was hoping the time they’d actually have to spend together would be kept to a minimum. “Well, I’ll do my best to stay out of his way if he stays out of mine.”
“I’m not sure that’s what he wants, but okay,” Becky said. They heard the team coming down the hallway and Abigail had no time to question what she’d meant as Dani appeared at the arena door behind Taylor, dressed in her hockey gear and Glenwood Falls Lightning jersey.
Abigail’s breath caught at the sight. She was at least a foot shorter than most of the other players, and even the smallest sized jersey hung down almost to her knees and loose around her shoulders. To say Abigail was questioning her decision would be an understatement.
“Relax, take a breath, Mom. This is just practice. Save the anxiety attacks for the real games,” Becky said next to her.
Abigail nodded, but her hands clutched the bench beneath her. She’d never felt so anxious in her life. Her knees bounced and her heart echoed in her ears. She was going to need to start bringing a thermos with something much stronger than hot chocolate in it.
“Boo,” a voice behind them said, as Dani and Taylor skated past on their warm-up.
Both moms swung around. The father of one of the other kids was grinning, but his expression was cold when his gaze met hers.
What the hell? She shot him her best sympathetic I’m-sorry-you’re-such-an-idiot look and then moved closer to Becky. “Who’s the a-hole?”
“Kurt Miller. Dex’s dad,” she muttered. “Jackson warned me there might be some hostility from him.”
He hadn’t warned her. A heads-up that some of the other hockey parents weren’t thrilled about the new co-ed structure would’ve been nice. She wondered if it would have affected her decision to let Dani play. Would her daughter have reconsidered? Just the thought that it may have altered either of their decisions made her more furious at herself. Why should it matter?
“I take it he thinks girls shouldn’t play hockey.”
“Or any sport. Taylor was on Dex’s soccer team this summer, and he had a stick up his butt about that, too. I’ve gotten used to his comments, and so far, Taylor seems either to not hear them or she’s choosing to ignore them. Either way, it’s not affecting her, but the moment it does…”
Momma bear would appear. Exactly.
Abigail stole another quick glance over her shoulder. “I don’t recognize him. Should I?”
“Probably not. The family isn’t from Glenwood Falls. In fact, the mom and the little girl live in Springdale, half an hour away. During the school year, Dex and his dad live here.”
“Separation?”
“No. Kurt just wants Dex to play on a team coached by Jackson. He thinks the boy is headed for the NHL, and he wants to give him the best possible opportunity to make the A list on the Peewee team next year.”
“Wow—that’s dedication.”
“It’s not fair to Dex. I’ve watched the kid—he’s fantastic, but he doesn’t seem like he wants to play.” Becky shook her head. “And then there’s players like Taylor, who won’t get the chance to even try out for the Peewee team next year…not the one that gets noticed anyway.”
As the kids lined up on the ice, Abigail’s gaze fell to Jackson. Was he really that great of a coach that Kurt Miller and his wife would live in separate towns for nine months a year just so the boy could play on this team? She knew the players had to live within a certain area to be considered, but it just seemed extreme. How much pressure would that put on the family? On the kid?
Was Jackson Westmore’s coaching style that fantastic?
She watched as he skated to the side and grabbed a stack of bright orange pylons, placing them in a row on the ice, then instructed the kids to line up at one end. Going first, he demonstrated what he wanted them to do. Gliding across the ice was as natural for him as walking. It had been the same for Dean—so effortless and sexy as hell. She swallowed hard. Not that Jackson was sexy. He was arrogant and irritating and…fantastic with the kids, which was a whole different level of sexy, she thought as he skated backward, watching now as they zigzagged around the pylons. Once they reached the end, they’d select one of the pucks scattered on the ice around the blue line and take a shot toward the net, before rejoining the line.
When it was Dani’s turn, her expression was unsure, which made Abigail’s heart race once more. Was she afraid? Was she nervous? Was she having second thoughts about all of this?
But then Jackson skated over to her and leaning closer, he said something and the hesitation disappeared from Dani’s face, replaced by a look of determination almost too intense for a nine-year-old. She readjusted her grip on her stick and skated between the pylons, shooting her puck at the end, where it sailed effortlessly into the open net.
The beam of pride on her face when she glanced quickly toward her made Abigail smile in relief.
Until her gaze locked with Jackson’s just above her daughter’s head. His own expression of pride made her heart stop completely. His smile was wide and unexpected, and her mouth went dry and her grip tightened on the seat. Annoyed, judgmental looks from Jackson Westmore she was used to, those she could handle. This rare glimpse of a friendly, kind Jackson was not something she’d been prepared for at all. Nor was her body’s reaction to it. The fluttering in her stomach was…inconvenient, and so was the pesky thought that he looked amazing when he smiled. If only those smiles were directed at her more often.
She looked away quickly, turning her attention back to Dani, who was receiving high fives from her teammates as she skated to the back of the line. And when she dared to glance at Jackson again, he’d already turned his attention back to the team.
She sat staring at him, trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened.
“He’s not as terrible as he seems,” Becky whispered.
She scoffed. “That was the first smile I’ve ever seen directed at me. I think I’ll reserve judgment a little longer,” she said. It was going to take more than one heart-stopping smile to get her to change her long-held opinion about her ex-husband’s best friend.
* * *
“Hey, Abby, can I talk to you for a second?” Jackson said, jogging up behind mother and daughter as they walked toward their vehicle in the arena parking lot an hour later.
She turned with a look of surprise. “Yeah, sure.”
He stopped as they reached their SUV, and glanced at Dani. “I just need your mom for a sec. Why don’t you hop on in?”
“Okay, Coach.”
“Great practice today, by the way,” he said to the little girl as she lugged her oversized hockey bag inside the backseat and shut the door.
“Thanks,” she said, wearing the same happy look she’d had all evening. She may have been a little nervous at first, but it hadn’t taken long or much encouragement to motivate her.
“Everything okay?” Abby asked as soon as Dani was out of earshot.
Other than the fact that the way their gazes had held during practice had completely thrown him off his coaching that evening? Sure, everything was great. “Yeah. I just wanted to let you know we didn’t receive the signed release form from Dean yet.” He’d checked the folder twice that afternoon for it, but had only found the one with Abby’s signature on it.
Her expression hardened. “Of course not,” she said.
“I let her practice tonight without it, but I’ll need to have it on file before Tuesday,” he said, zipping his coat higher against the cool, evening breeze.
“Tuesday?”
He nodded. Obviously Abby had no idea of the time commitment Dani had just signed her up for. “Practices are Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday. Games are usually Saturdays.”
“Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday.” She nodded. “Okay. No problem. I’ll call Dean this weekend and make sure he emails the form back to the school,” she said, fidgeting with her purse strap.
Obviously it was a problem. And he didn’t get it. The hurt and anger he saw in Abby’s eyes whenever Dean’s name was mentioned was so foreign to him. So different from the look of adoration her younger face used to wear whenever he was around. Their love for one another had been on display for everyone to see.
Even those who’d rather not have had a front row seat to it.
Annoyance overshadowed his common sense as he said, “Does he know that she’s playing hockey?”
Abby’s eyes narrowed. “Dani called him and left a voicemail yesterday, and I sent him the release form, so I’m assuming he does, yeah.”
He nodded. “Okay…” He turned to leave, but against his better judgment he turned back. “When does he even get to see Dani?”
Her expression was cold, hard as she let go of the car door handle and folded her arms across her body. “Excuse me?”
“You move back here and take Dani with you. You know Dean has to be in L.A. for the team. When exactly is he supposed to see his daughter?” He knew this was none of his business. Yet, that didn’t stop him from waiting for a response. It was as though his jerkiness was on autopilot.
Abby glanced toward the SUV, where Dani was focused on her iPod. “Not that it’s any of your business, but Dean wasn’t exactly fighting for visitation time.”
“Oh, come on. He may have been an asshole to you, and things may not have worked out, but he loves Dani.” From the talks he’d had over the years with his friend, he knew that much was true. His last conversation with Dean had been just the month before when his friend had claimed Abby was doing everything in her power to exclude him from Dani’s life. Of course, his buddy had sounded a little drunk…
“Look, I don’t expect you to believe me, but quite frankly, I don’t care. You and I have never been friends, and I used to think that maybe it was my fault—that I’d done something to you, or said something—but I’m not losing any sleep over it anymore. If you honestly think it’s me keeping Dean out of Dani’s life and not his own selfishness, then you don’t know your best friend as well as you think you do, and you know absolutely nothing about me.”
She was wrong about the last part. He knew so much about her, cared so much about her, it terrified the shit out of him. He knew her favorite movies were old eighties romantic comedies she’d watched a million times already. He knew her favorite season was the fall, when the leaves started to change to orange and gold and the first snowfall covered mountain peaks in the distance. He knew that she’d been loyal and dedicated to his buddy and the life they’d built together. And he knew she didn’t deserve the hurt she may be going through now. He’d never have hurt her. He wished she knew that.
“What?” she asked, when he’d been silent too long.
He shook his head. “Nothing. Hey, why don’t I just call him?” he asked. “I mean, I can just as easily call and ask him for it.”
Her expression softened a little, and in it was a trace of whatever he’d seen in them when they’d locked eyes on the ice. A trace of something he couldn’t define, but that could give him hope, which would be far too dangerous. He was going to be in trouble if she planned to attend each practice.
“That’s fine,” she said, turning to open the car door. “Was that all you needed to talk to me about?”
Not even close. “Yep.”
“Okay. See you Tuesday…and Friday…”
“And Sunday,” he finished. Seeing her and not being able to touch her was absolute torture.
She sighed as though she’d rather have an unmedicated root canal. “And Sunday,” she said, climbing into the car.