Page 9 of Your Pucking Mom

He laughed. “I don’t know her well, but she’s perfect.” His words were soft with a hint of mystery to them.

With his muffin plated, I placed it on the counter and pushed it in his direction. His thick, rough fingers grazed mine as he grabbed the plate. The stranger from yesterday also had big fingers; this city must’ve been infested with people who had giant hands.

“Do you work nearby?” I asked, pulling away; hating the way the tension in the room increased. He didn’t look like the college students who came here.

“At the stadium,” he stated, looking in the other direction.

“Wow. Hockey or basketball?”

The corners of his lips twisted into a soft grin. His smile was so warm and inviting, like I had found my home—a feeling I hadn’t felt in years. “Hockey.”

I wondered if he knew Austin. “I love hockey.”

“You should come to a game sometime.” I didn’t recognize him from the roster, and the lack of gear indicated he probably worked behind the scenes.

“I have season tickets,” I confessed, and his smile turned into a chuckle.

“What’s your name?” he asked, changing the subject entirely. I looked down at my name tag, then to him.

He laughed, filling the otherwise quiet cafe with the warmth of his voice. “Auburn.”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” I shrugged.

“Auburn?”

I spun around on my heels toward him. “Yeah?”

“Do you, uh, want to go…”

I anticipated his question before he uttered the next part of the sentence. This wasn’t the first time someone had asked me out, so I knew what to expect. However, this one felt different. It would be challenging to convey that I didn’t date, because he seemed like such a warm and welcoming person.

Emma’s voice echoed in my mind, reminding me Austin was eighteen years old. He had moved on with his life, and perhaps it was time for me to consider doing the same. Grappling with the aftermath of everything that had unfolded in my life made it difficult to fathom someone would want to be with me or date me.

“Sorry. Do you want to go out with me sometime? I have a crazy work schedule, but I have a few days free…”

I chuckled. It had to be one of the most endearing approaches to asking someone out. Unlike most guys who typically exuded confidence, this man seemed to be genuinely figuring out how to fit a date into his busy schedule. Assuming he worked for the hockey team in some regard, and knowing Austin’s schedule, I knew he was a busy man.

“That’s sweet,” I croaked out. “I just don’t?—”

He held up a hand before grabbing his coffee. “Forget I said anything. I never asked if you were single.”

“I am,” I blurted, showing him my ring finger. “It’s not that. I just don’t…date.”

He nodded, taking a sip of his hot coffee. “I get it.”

Tilting my head, I said, “I don’t think you do.”

I spoke so softly I was unsure if he heard me. He gathered his stuff to leave, and I gave him one last look before he grabbed his muffin and headed out the front door. The moment the bell rang at the door opening, a weight settled on my shoulders.

“You should’ve said yes,” Cassy crooned from behind me.

“I can’t.” I didn’t turn around, my attention fixed on the man walking down the street. A deep sigh escaped me before I realized it. “I have to bring sushi to my son.”

“I can finish closing out, then,” Cassy said, frowning. “I was a single mom for a long time, girl. It’s not easy dating, but your son is a grown man now.”

“I know,” I lamented, pulling off my apron. “It’s…complicated.” Truthfully, the answer was so much deeper than that. It was better if I ignored it and kept it pushed deep down where my trauma lived and festered.

“See you tomorrow,” I said, grabbing my coat and heading out the door toward the sushi place a few doors down. I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I promised Austin I’d bring him dinner. Sacrificing for our kids was just what moms did.

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