Page 53 of Slapshot Bride

“Oh, Yes. Yes, of course.” A small laugh. “I forgot how early morning practice runs. I'm his mother. Caroline Blake. I'm sorry, I should have led with that.”

My assumption is right.

“I’m Riley...” I pause, suddenly unsure how exactly to define my relationship to Easton. “His house guest.”

Caroline looks confused for only a second before her warm smile returns.

“I’m sorry to drop in like this. I should have called him first.” She laughs softly. “Actually, I would have called him, except I knew exactly what would happen. He’d tell me he was fine, that I didn’t need to come, and by then I’d already have booked the ticket.”

She tilts her head slightly.

“He called me a few days ago. He sounded mostly like himself. Then he said something about making a decision he wasn’t sure he had it in him to make.” Her smile softens. “He sounded worried. So I decided to come check on him.”

“Oh…” What decision was Easton talking about? Was it about me?

“Could I come in for a minute? I mean until he returns, at least.”

I step back.

“Oh, of course. I'm sorry. Please come in.”

She picks up her bag and steps inside.

She closes the door behind her, gently. We walk into the living room, and she drops her bag by the side and takes off her coat, draping it over the arm of the sofa.

“Coffee?” I offer, with a small smile.

“I’d appreciate that, honey.” She returns a warm smile, and I lead her to the kitchen.

She sits on the kitchen island, and I go to the machine to pour us some coffee.

“It's a beautiful house.”

“It really is.”

She nods thoughtfully. “He bought it about six months ago. Very suddenly, too.” Her fingers trace the edge of the countertop. “One day he called me and said he'd found a place, and the next, he'd signed the papers. It was so unlike him.”

She grows quiet for a moment. “He never told me why, but... it felt like he couldn't bear being in his old house anymore. Like something had happened there that he couldn't stand to look at every day.”

She lets out a small sigh and glances around again. “And then he moved in here... but never really moved in.” A fond, wistful smile touches her lips. “He bought a beautiful house, but he never made it into a home. I've always wondered if he was trying to outrun something... or simply didn't know how to settle anymore.”

Her gaze flicks back to me, and a knowing smile curves her lips. “But I see he’s finally getting some use out of it.”

Heat climbs up my neck, and I look at the coffee mugs.

“Milk?” A deflection to cut the conversation.

“Please.”

A minute later, I place the cup on the counter before her. She wraps her fingers around it.

“Thank you, Riley. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It's nice to meet you too, Caroline.” I return her smile.

The cup barely makes it to my lips when the doorbell rings.

I jump. Caroline doesn't, but she notices.