Ooh, of course, dear,she says soothingly, like I’m a toddler insisting my imaginary friend was real.Just don’t read too much into it.Or…into the staring.
My face heats.What staring?
Oh, please.She smirks.He looked at you the entire time he was reciting his speech.It was almost uncomfortable.
I choke on air.He did not.
She shrugs.Believe what you want.Just remember—men like Sidney Crane don’t settle down with single moms with…Her lip curls, and I know I’m going to hate her closing line.Let’s just say,tarnished pasts.This isn’t some romance novel where he’ll risk it all for the woman who is always late to important events.
And with that final dagger, she struts off to the snack table like she hadn’t just slapped me with insecurities I work very hard to keep buried.I press a hand to my chest, trying to breathe past the tightness.It shouldn’t get under my skin.Not really.She doesn’t know anything about me.Or him.
But it does.Of course it does.Goddamn Rhonda.
Sidney Crane is…well, Sidney Crane.A professional hockey player adored by millions.A celebrity, with the world at his fingertips and the money and connections to do whatever he wants.He is terrifyingly attractive, charming, and stupidly good with kids.I’m sure he has his flaws, but from where I’m standing, I can’t see any.
He’s a man who exists in a world I have no business stepping foot into.Rhonda’s right.Not about the single mom bullshit she spewed.I know that was crap, and she was talking out of her ass.But she hit the nail on the head about my past.
There’s no chance I’m going to put Joey in the line of fire.He already went through being rejected and abandoned by his father and knows that my family wants nothing to do with us.There’s no way I’m going to let anyone or anything else hurt him.We’re strong, but even bulletproof glass has its breaking point.
Still… When I look back at the ice, all that doubt wobbles.
Sidney is laughing at something Joey said.Laughing in that rare, genuine way that reaches his eyes.He grabs the top of my son’s helmet and gives it a little shake back and forth, then nudges him back into position with a gentle pat on the shoulder.
My heart flips.Hard.
No.Stop it, Eddie.
You’re imagining things.You’re sleep-deprived.You’re riding a caffeine high and a crush that should not, under any circumstances, exist.
Yet as I watch them side by side—Joey glowing with pure hero worship, Sidney patient and steady and bright—a small part of me, the part that still believes in impossible things, thinks maybe.
Maybe.
Sidney skates one more lap with the kids before volunteers on the ice call out about the last ten minutes of free skate.The group disperses in a chaotic swarm, and Sidney peels off toward the boards.He pops his helmet up, hair damp and cheeks flushed from exertion.
And then he heads straight for me.All that attention and focus directed at me is truly something.
He steps off the ice, unstraps one glove, and offers me a smile that’s too warm, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous sheen.I absolutely do not need this today.
Hey,he says, breath still coming a little fast.Joey’s great out there.He’s got good instincts.
I know,I tell him with absolute confidence.But thank you for saying it,I manage, trying not to let my voice waver.He really looks up to you.He’ll be talking about this event for weeks.
Yeah?His smile softens.Well, he made my morning.
Of course, he has to say things like that.Of course, he has to be kind on top of being stupidly good-looking.Sidney’s gaze flicks briefly past me, checking for nosy hockey moms or stray children, and then his gaze returns, warmer than before.
Listen,he says gently, rubbing the back of his neck like he’s the one who’s nervous.I, um…I’m heading to training camp this week.The season starts soon, and my schedule honestly blows up.It’s going to be chaotic.
My pulse thuds once, hard.He swallows, looking like he’s gathering his courage.
But I’d really like to keep in touch.If that’s something you want too.
My brain scrambles for a polite, mature decline.I want to give him my number.Yet I know if I open that door, it would be near-impossible to close it.
I open my mouth—to say what, I have no clue—but Joey beats me to it.
Mom,Joey says behind me, loud enough to make me jump.Did Sidney just ask for your number?
