Becca
WhenIpullupnext to Jacob’s car, it’s to find him leaning against the trunk, arms crossed over his chest, with that sheepish grin on his face. My insides do a little flip, and chills dance their way down my spine.
Rolling down my window, I ask, “Did you run out of gas?” When he shrugs and makes his way to the car, I laugh. “I thought adults grow out of that?”
“The last time I ran out of—”
“Besides tonight?” I tease. The scent of well-worn leather and a touch of cedarwood fill the cabin space, making it suddenly feel too small for the two of us. Clearing my throat, I turn my gaze back to the road. “Where am I going?”
“To my parents’ house.” I can feel the weight of his gaze on me, unasked questions weighing him down, but I keep my focus on getting back on the road. “And the last time I ran out of gas, it was your brother’s fault. Remember, he wanted to make sure he had enough time to talk to Jane before the game started?”
A closed-lipped smile pulls at my cheeks. I remember that night. John had a meltdown when we had to call my dad to bring us gas. Not only did he miss Jane, but the two of them were benched during the first period for missing warmups. “That was really the last time?”
“Once was enough! The sound the car makes as its life is being sucked from it is traumatic."
A huff of laughter pours out of me, but I completely get what he’s saying. That night left an impression on me too, and I rarely let my car get to the three-quarter mark before refilling my tank. “I’ve drilled the importance of heading to the gas station once the tank falls below the half-tank marker. My boys tell me I’m a broken record, and it never goes unsaid without an eye-roll from them.”
“Do they know why?” My eyes stay on the road, but I know Jacob’s still looking at me from the tiny pricks of heat.
“Of course! When Wyatt got his license, I explained how he didn’t want to be like ‘Uncle E,’ and I went on to tell him that the girl waiting for him might not be as patient as Aunt Jane.”
“Uncle E?” Jacob’s brow furrows as he attempts to figure out what the ‘E’ stands for.
“Uncle Empty.” I fill him in. A deep-throated laugh reverberates around the car, pulling at my stomach, sending a river of warmth through me, and leaving my knees like jelly.
“Oh, I am sure helovedthat,” he snorts.
“The boys did, but even more, they loved the way John reacted when it came up. So, of course, they needed to bring it up often. It’s still usually a topic of conversation at some point when we get together.”
Jacob laughs, before huskily calling my name. “Becs?”
Turning toward him, he’s looking out the windshield, and I give myself permission to study his strong profile. His hair is sticking up a bit, and my lips tug up as I picture him runninghis hand through it in frustration the moment he realized he ran out of gas. There’s a bit of a 5 o’clock shadow across his jaw, and my gaze drops to his lips. When I see them start to move, I turn forward and focus on the road.
“Not calling you was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made, and I’ve regretted walking away almost every day since. But I’m not sure I regret how things turned out…for you.”
Tears sting the back of my eyes because I know exactly what he means. I wouldn’t have traded my life with Caleb for anything. I don’t know what I would’ve done had Jacob come to see me when he visited Maple Ridge.
What would my life look like if he had?
From the corner of my eye, I see his hand lift as it scrubs up and down his face. He clears his throat. “I’m sorry you had to learn everything in front of your boys. I should’ve come to you first. But I have to admit I was a bit scared for my life.”
A chuckle falls from me.
“What? You don’t think they would’ve thrown me out with the trash if they were able to detect any insincerity?”
“Oh, I have no doubt of that at all!” My cheeks lift as I think of my boys and how much I adore them. This past year has been tough for them, and us. I’ve watched them all grow up in different ways, and since Caleb’s passing, they’ve decided it’s their job to keep me safe.
Learning about my past and that Jacob, J.T., was a part of it must’ve been a bit of a gut punch. Maybe even felt like a betrayal because of their dad’s love for him. I get it. It’s a bit weird. But we can’t change our pasts.
“I can’t believe that you struggled your first couple of years in the NHL,” I say, as I pull over in front of his house before placing the car in park. Running my hands up and down the steering wheel, I swallow, pushing past the lump forming. “I have to be honest, I didn’t watch you play much when you first started,but I do remember everyone in town following you and catching snippets here and there.”
He lets out a long, slow breath, running a hand along his chin. “I didn’t think you did, but I had hoped.”
Swiveling in my seat, I face him only to find his dark eyes locked on me, an intensity almost glowing from them. My pulse flutters and my stomach swoops. Why does he have to be so perfect? “Did you really look for me in the stands?” I whisper, tiny chills running through me.
“Yes,” he says gruffly, and I feel the truth of his words. He lifts a hand up toward my face, but stops before touching me, and I nearly groan. “A few times I thought I saw you, but it was only my mind playing tricks on me.”
My pulse is pounding in my ears, and emotions are running through me like rapids. When he says my name again, it’s so soft I don’t hear him, but I see his lips move. The next thing I know, my hand is raising and cupping his cheek.
