“Yeah?”
“I’m not trying to push you into something, you know that, right?”
I exhale slowly and nod. “I know that, Ezra.”
“I just ... I wish you could see yourself in the kitchen like I see you. When you’re cooking, it’s like you’re in a different world, like nothing could touch you in there. Nothing could get under your skin. You just ... fuck, you look happy, almost like you’re in love, and I know what that’s like. I had it with hockey, and I lost it. I fucking lost my one true love, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you just because you’re scared. I get it—more than you know. So I’m not pushing you, I swear. I’m just letting you know that if you do decide to follow your heart and take a risk, I’m in your corner.”
Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them away. I’ve had people in my corner before—my dad has always been my number one fan and my mother, too—but I’ve never had someone like Ezra there for me before. Someone who doesn’thaveto believe in me, but chooses to.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He kisses my forehead. “Anytime, Sunny.”
I get the feeling that he means it.
We stay like that the rest of the night. His hands don’t wander any lower than my back, and we don’t spend the evening fooling around. We just watch TV until we fall asleep, and it might be the most restful night of sleep I’ve had.
And it has everything to do with Ezra.
Chapter Nineteen
Ezra
“Nice job, Marshall!” I clap loudly, grinning as I watch him drop right back into position after stopping the other kid’s attempt at going glove side on him.
He stops the next six shots, which come in quick succession, and pride swells in my chest. He’s done so much better since that day he said he wanted to quit, and I’m beyond proud of him for pushing through and sticking with it.
I just wish Summer would do the same.
She hasn’t been back to my house since we talked about her buying Sunnie’s. We’ve been sneaking in kisses after work, but it’s clear something is distracting her. Part of me hopes it’s that she’s rethinking the idea of potentially purchasing the space, but I can’t be certain. I plan to talk to her tonight about it during our third cooking lesson, where we’ve graduated from pasta to chicken Parmesan.
The timer on the scrimmage runs out, and Marshall’s team is the winner. The kid looks ecstatic about it too.
“Good work out there,” I tell him as we skate toward the tunnel leading back to the locker rooms.
“Thanks, Coach. I was hoping for a shutout, but a win is a win.”
“That’s right. And a win means ice cream, right?”
“Heck yes it does!”
I laugh as he darts off the ice, joking around and carrying on with his teammates, as I help the other coach clean up.
We’re just about done when the door to the rink opens and in walks the last person I was expecting to see today.
“Sheriff Turner.” I skate over to him. “How are you?”
“Not bad, Mr. Rawlings.” His eyes roam over the rink. “Nice place you got here.”
“Thanks,” I say, but I get the feeling that’s not what this visit is about. In fact, I get the feeling he’s here about something else entirely.Someoneelse. “Was there something I could help you with, Sheriff?”
He clears his throat, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I wanted to thank you, Mr. Rawlings.”
“Pretty sure we know each other well enough at this point that you can call me Ezra. And thank me for what?”
“For taking care of my daughter. I got an alert on my doorbell when she was sick. I saw that it was you who brought her home, and I just wanted to say thank you for taking care of her. Summer’s a stubborn girl, and I’m sure she said she could handle herself, but I appreciate you not leaving her alone.”
If he received an alert on his camera, that must mean he knows how late I stayed, which was long past the appropriate time for a boss to be taking care of his employee.
