Pinching the bridge of my nose; I think this is the most words I’ve heard James say in the entire time I’ve known him. He must really think this kid is something special.
A pit forms in my gut as I think about myself at this kid’s age. He’s around the same age I was when my mom passed away. She was my biggest fan, and there wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done to make it to the big leagues for her. Nothing.
“What’s his name?” I press a palm against my chest and rub, working to relieve the tension lingering there.
“Steven. Steven Bennett.”
Why does that name sound familiar?
“He’s John Ashford’s nephew. John’s why I’m calling.”
My brows shoot up at Duncan’s last comment. My best friend has mentioned Steven more than once. The kid definitely has talent. Why wouldn’t John just call?
“He thought Steven’s ‘coach’ calling would be more effective than his uncle,” he answers my unasked question. “He also thought that someone other than him would be better at getting you here. Since apparently he’s tried multiple times.”
At that, I chuckle. John isn’t wrong. “Smart.” I rub my hand back and forth across my forehead, trying to stave off the headache I feel coming on at my already made decision. “When would you need me to come?”
I can hear Duncan talking in the background, but his words don’t connect as an image of a smiling face and sparkling hazel eyes fill my mind. The face of a girl I left behind with the promise of a call that never happened.
Becca.
Rebecca, ‘Becca’ to those close to her, Ashford. My best friend’s little sister. Now, Becca Bennett. Steven’s mom.
And the reason I haven’t been back to Maple Ridge since I left twenty-plus years ago.
Chapter Two
Becca
Bellsjingleasthedoor to the shop opens, and I turn my head with a smile on my face. It widens when I see my big brother walking toward me.
“Hey. Here for your usual?” Before waiting for an answer, I grab a large cup and pump three squirts of vanilla sweetener, then make my way to the carafe of freshly brewed coffee. I slap on a lid and slide it across the counter. John hands me a five-dollar bill, which I promptly drop in the tip jar.
“Are you ever going to let me pay?” Slight frustration laces his voice as he leans in and kisses me on the cheek.
“As long as you’re my brother, probably not,” I tease, patting him on the side of his arm. “What brings you in? Shouldn’t you be at the office?”
John is a realtor who’s more out of his office than in, but at this time of day, he can be found finishing up paperwork before heading over to the rink to watch the hockey team’s practice.
“This couldn’t wait!” The twinkle in John’s eyes has my curiosity piqued. My brother is a pretty happy guy, so this isn’t unusual, but the excitement vibrating off him in waves is bigger than normal. “Jake is coming to coach Steven! Duncan got him to agree to come and help fine-tune some of his technique.”
“Jake?” My head tilts, and my eyes squint, confusion filling me. Jake, our mailman, doesn’t even follow hockey, so I can’t understand why John is this excited. “Can he help Steven?”
Grabbing a rag, I wipe down the counter, just as Michelle, my employee, walks up front carrying some pastries. I stop wiping and press against the counter so she can get through.
John’s eyes nearly pop out of his face. “Can he help Steven? You’re joking, right?”
“Why would I joke about Jake, our mailman, being able to help Steven?” I continue wiping the counter while Michelle puts the pastries in the display case.
John laughs and shakes his head. “I wonder how he’s going to feel knowing my sister forgot who he is.”
Now I’m really confused. I wrack my brain for something, anything that could jog my memory, but nothing comes to mind. John’s reaction means Ishouldknow who Jake is.
“Jacob, Becca.” The bell on the door jingles again. “Jacob ‘Jake’ Thornton.”
“Am I that easy to forget, Becs?” Jacob’s voice washes over me, bringing back a flood of memories. Memories I thought I had left in the past.
My head whips toward the voice of the man walking through The Bleacher Bean’s door. Espresso brown eyes filled with uncertainty meet mine, and my insides flip right before my heart slams against my ribcage.
