“About us. About what we want. We’re still separated, butwe’ve decided to try dating again. Taking it slow. Seeing if we can rebuild something.”
There was a pause, heavy and contemplative
“That’s… what you want?”
“Yes, honey. I love your father, and I’m not sure where we went wrong, but we both aren’t quite ready to call it off completely. It’s been fun dating him again.”
“That’s great Mom,” Preston said finally. “I’m happy for you guys. Really.”
“I know our family’s different now,” she continued, her voice trembling slightly. “But nothing will ever change how much we love you and Price. You’ll always be our boys, no matter what.”
I hovered by the door, frozen in place. Something about the raw honesty in her words made my chest tighten. Preston’s world was shifting, just like mine. And maybe that was why we worked—because we both understood what it felt like to stand on uneven ground. Would the shift change things between us though?
When I finally stepped outside, Preston looked up, his expression softening when he saw me. Mrs. Charming gave me a small, knowing smile before heading back inside, leaving the two of us alone
“Eavesdropping?” Preston asked, his tone teasing but gentle
“Unintentionally,” I replied, sitting beside him on the patio steps. The cool air whipped around us, and I shivered. “You okay?
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “It’s just… a lot. But in a good way, I think.”
I nodded, bumping my shoulder against his. “For what it’s worth, I think it’s a good thing. They’re trying. That’s more than most people do. It’s clear they love each other and you two.”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “And I’ve got you here, so I guess I can handle it.”
I smiled, leaning my head against his shoulder. I’d do whatever he needed. Be there for him for any reason. My heart swelled with love, the feeling so foreign yet comfortable. “Damn right you can. Now come on. Price is probably beating all your personal high scores, and someone’s gotta stop him.”
Preston laughed, the sound warm and real, and together we headed back inside. This all felt so chill, so easy. I knew it wouldn’t last, because nothing ever did, but I wanted to enjoy every second of it. I had no idea how I’d survive falling in love with Preston, but now that it had happened, I had no choice but to enjoy the ride.
26
PRESTON
Thissucked.
One week post-surgery and I was itching to play hockey—the feeling overwhelming me. I felt like a part of me was missing, a limb or part of my heart, and I wanted it back. For a guy who wasn’t sure what the future held for me, this settled the argument. I wasn’t ready to be done playing hockey.
I stood from the seats, stretching lightly as I did my walk around the rink. The team practiced, the coaches huddling and plotting something. We had a game tomorrow, and it mattered that we won. The guys felt it. We all did. The team had been great and supportive of me, but I wasn’t on the ice.
Walking around the rink was as much physical activity as I could do, and if I moved a little too fast, I felt it near the incision. It tugged and stung.
The other reason I was worked up and pissed? Jordan refused to have sex with me despite me trying numerous times. I had a post-op appointment in an hour, and hopefully, I’d be cleared for more activity on and off the ice.
All this inaction let me sit with my thoughts more, and while I wasn’t a fan of it, time helped settle the last few months. My parents were trying again, and while their relationship wasn’t my business, I supported my mom trying to be happy. Plus, the way they were there for me in the hospital was so different than the tournament. I’d be okay. Our family would be okay.
And yeah, I wanted to play hockey professionally. It was like I had to have it taken away to realize I wanted it more. What a fucking time to learn that, when I wasn’t on the damn ice. I forced a deep breath as I walked around the rink, using the free time to walk as much as possible. Jordan helped me catch up on classwork, talking to my teachers and getting my assignments for me, but nothing replaced the feeling of skating.
Nothing.
“Gentlemen, circle up.” Coach Reiner stood with his hands on his hips, his face set in determination. J.D. stood next to him, the two of them eyeing the guys as everyone circled up around them and kneeled. I moved closer to the ice, not stepping onto it because one wrong move could tear open my incision.
The atmosphere was suddenly tense, the weight of last week’s loss still lingering. Coach cleared his throat, his voice tense. “Alright, listen up. Last week? That’s in the rearview mirror. We lost a championship, yeah, and I’m not gonna stand here and pretend it doesn’t sting. But tonight, we have something to prove—not to anyone else but to ourselves. Because the measure of a team isn’t just how they handle the wins. It’s how they handle the losses, the setbacks, the punches to the gut. That’s where champions are made.
“Now, I know you’re feeling the weight of being down a key guy tonight. Preston’s not out there, and I know that hits hard.” He paused, stared at me, nodded, and kept going. “But let me tell you something—this is hockey. Injuries happen. Challenges happen. What defines us is how we step up, how we adapt, howwe rise to the occasion. And let me make something else clear:eyes are on us tonight.You know what I’m talking about. There are scouts in that crowd—whether they’re here officially or unofficially, they’re watching. They want to see who’s got the grit, the heart, and the ability to perform under pressure. They’re looking for leaders, for players who don’t back down when things get tough, who rise above adversity and put the team on their back if they have to.”
“Okay, Coach!”
“Heard, chef.”
