Page 50 of Falling for the Hockey Superstar

Beck

I’mnoclosertoa decision than the night I got that call from Dex. The weight of the decision presses down on me like a lead puck.

It’s been a week since that call from my agent, and I have no clarity about the right choice.

I stand by the window in my condo, coffee in hand, watching the snow fall steadily over Irondale. The rink where Jake practices is barely visible through the white haze. It’s quiet now, but I know that in a few hours, the place will be filled with kids laughing, skating, and chasing dreams.

That used to be me.

I remember the first time I stepped onto the ice as a kid—barely able to stay upright but loving every second. That’s where it all started. The dream. The obsession. The relentless drive to make it to the NHL.

And now…

Now I’m standing at a crossroads, torn between the game I’ve loved my whole life and the family I never thought I’d have.

***

I hear the front door open. “Beck?”

Abby’s soft voice pulls me out of my thoughts.

I blink, realizing I’ve been gripping my coffee mug so tightly my knuckles are white. I loosen my hold and turn to see her standing in the doorway, her eyes full of quiet concern.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah,” I murmur, but we both know it’s a lie.

Her lips press together, but she doesn’t push. Not yet.

“I’m taking Jake to the rink,” she says softly, her gaze lingering on me. “You wanna come?”

My heart aches at the hopeful lilt in her voice.

“I can’t.” The words come out hoarse, heavier than they should be. “I… I have a meeting with Dexter.”

Abby’s expression doesn’t change, but I catch the flicker of disappointment in her eyes before she looks away.

“Okay.”

She tries to sound casual, but I hear the weight in her voice as she turns to leave.

I should tell her. Ineedto tell her. But every time I open my mouth; the words stick in my throat.

Because what if telling her means losing everything?

As the door closes, my heart feels ready to burst. I want to be out there with her and Jake today, but this decision is all I can manage at this moment. Maybe a conversation with my folks can help, so that’s where I head.

Mom and Dad are as supportive as I figured they would be, but in the end their advice is tofollow my heart.They know I’ll make the right decision. Etc. Etc. Etc. So, while I feel their love and know they will always be in my corner, I come away no closer to a decision than before. The only thing I can really take away is the look in Mom’s eyes when she talks about Abby and Jake.

Yeah, that’s how I feel too, Mom.

***

The ice has always been home. Not just a place, but a part of me. So that’s where I go. I’ve lived my life one game at a time, chasing championships, measuring my worth in goals and assists, in bruises and banners. But now, for the first time, the silence in the rink is louder than any crowd I’ve ever faced.

Dexter laid it out plain a few days ago—two paths, one decision. I either hang up my skates at the end of the season and start coaching here in Irondale, or I take the Thunderhawks’ deal: three more years playing at full tilt, five million more in my pocket each year, but I’d have to uproot everything.

I lean against the cold railing of the arena mezzanine, watching the Zamboni hum across the ice. The surface gleams, spotless and perfect now with the snow gone. Like a fresh start. Like a blank slate. I used to see that as an invitation to go full throttle. Now, I only see what I’d be leaving behind.

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