Page 12 of Falling for the Hockey Superstar

Jake doesn’t care about the subtlety I’m picking up on. He’s too busy swinging the stick like he’s already scoring in the Stanley Cup finals.

“This is so cool!” Jake beams, and Beck’s laughter fills the space—rich, warm, and completely disarming.

As we move through the facility, Beck effortlessly balances guiding Jake through the space and keeping an easy conversation going with me. He’s comfortable here, in his element. But there’s something softer about him now, something more than just the hockey star everyone sees on the ice.

“So… you live in Elmwood full-time, right?” I ask as we pass the team’s lounge area. “Not just during the off-season?”

Beck nods, a fond smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. Elmwood’s home. Always has been.”

“Even with your career taking you to Irondale?”

“Especially with that.” His expression shifts, his tone softening. “I love the game, but… after everything’s said and done, I need somewhere that feels real. Elmwood’s that place for me.”

I glance at him, curiosity tugging at me. “Why stay in a small town when you could live anywhere?”

Beck’s gaze drifts, a distant look clouding his usually bright eyes. “My parents are there. And… I guess I just like the quiet. I can walk down Main Street, grab coffee at Joe’s Diner, and people know me because I grew up there—not because I’m Beckett Hayes, the hockey star.”

His words hit me harder than I expect. There’s something raw in the way he talks about Elmwood: it’s not just a town, but a part of who he is.

“How much of your time is spent there?” I ask softly.

Beck smiles, but it’s different this time. Softer. More genuine. “I’m there most days, actually. I commute to Irondale for games and practices, but I spend my nights in Elmwood. My parents still live in the house I grew up in, and… I like being close.”

“Wow,” I murmur, surprised. “You’re really that tied to it?”

“Yeah.” Beck’s voice is quiet, almost reverent. “Elmwood’s where I learned to skate. Where I had my first goal. It’s where I feel that I can breathe.”

He continues: “And my folks and some other friends are available to watch over the cats where we have out-of-town games. It makes me feel good that they are being cared for by people I trust.

Besides that, I’ve told you about the personalities of those three almost-monsters. Like me, my folks think they are totally adorable and can do no wrong, even when the breakables hit the floor now and then.”

I’m stuck a few sentences back.Breathe. He said it’s where he can breathe.

The word lingers, and for a moment, I wonder if Beck’s life is more complicated than I realized.

“But you do more than just live there, don’t you?” I say softly, watching him closely.

Beck hesitates, then shrugs, as if trying to downplay it. “I help out where I can. Little things, mostly. Sponsoring youth hockey leagues, helping fix up the rink, stuff like that.”

“Little things?” I arch an eyebrow, sensing there’s more he’s not saying. I hear that you do a lot more to help Elmwood continue to thrive, Mr. Hayes.”

Beck shifts, his jaw tightening slightly. “It’s not a big deal.”

It sounds like a big deal.

But I let it slide. For now.

We move toward the players’ lounge, and Jake’s excitement spikes again when he spots framed photos of the team. But it’s not the hockey shots that catch my eye.

“Wait…” I squint at a picture tucked off to the side. “Are those… cats?”

Beck’s laughter is immediate and unguarded. “Yeah.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking almost bashful. “Biscuit, Mitts, and Hat Trick.”

“Seriously?” I grin, unable to hold back the giggle bubbling up. “You named your cats hockey terms?”

“Of course.” Beck’s grin is unapologetic. “Biscuit’s the diva. She rules the house. Mitts is the scrappy one—always ready to throw down. And Hat Trick…” His voice softens, and his eyes warm. “He’s just… happy to be around. Loves everyone.”

“Will they get along with Spotty?” Jake pipes up, clearly invested.

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