Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
When Jake lifts his blue eyes to mine, they’re so intense I almost have to look away. Cold needles prick up and down my spine, and I wonder if this is how his opponents in the rink feel when he stares them down before the face-off. I’m tempted to apologize and drop the subject, but I’ve never been one to back down, so I hold his gaze.
“I’m not Jesse,” he says. Despite the intensity in his expression, I can tell he’s trying to soften his words for me. He’s always gentle with me. “I only ever dreamed about this, Caroline. Being on the ice. Leading the guys. I don’t know if anybody has ever been happier to get drafted in the NHL than I was. And I’ve never lost that. Not for a single day. I f–...” He trails off, eyes on Walker’s car seat. “I love showing up for my coaches and my team. I love the game.”
“But you can’t play forever,” I say as carefully as I can.
“I know,” he sighs. “I know,” he adds more quietly. “But I thought we all had a little more time. More than this, at least. Even if I get re-signed by the Vandals, it will be different without all the guys around me.”
“Maybe,” I agree. “But even Nolan was obsessed with hockey, too. He found cooking. And then he found Mia. Who knows, though? Maybe a family isn’t for you,” I say, even though the thought twists my insides. It shouldn’t twist my insides because I’ve been long-resolved to raising Walker alone. Some stupid part of my unconscious must still hope things will work out differently. “I’m just trying to say that people grow and change. Things probably feel like they’re falling apart on you, but I think you’ll surprise yourself. You’ll find something new to put your energy into. You’re too talented not to.”
He pulls his attention from the window back to me. The hardness in his eyes has softened just a touch. The corner of his mouth pulls up, and he gives my thigh a soft squeeze. “I don’t think people realize how good you are at what you do.”
I tilt my head, confused. “What?”
“Frosty Harbor. I don’t think people realize what having you there does for that town. You just kind of get people. How to make them feel better. It’s a skill, and you managed to put yourself in a position where you can use it on as many people as possible.” He pauses, then nods slightly, almost to himself. “I know this arrangement is helping me, too, but I’m glad it worked out this way. I’m enjoying screwing up that Peter asshole’s plans, but I’m also glad I can help you keep the bed and breakfast. You do a lot of good for people there.”
I feel like an idiot because my eyes are going misty. I wipe at them and look away, hoping he won’t notice.
Jake chuckles, puts his big arm around me, and pulls me into his shoulder. “Since when were you such a softie?”
“I’m not,” I say, voice thick. “That was just nice. Thank you.”
There are a few beats of silence, and then Jake shrugs a little. “Can’t pretend to be your fiancé if I don’t say nice things here and there. Right?”
“Yeah,” I agree, even though I kind of wish he had just stayed silent. I like to think I don’t do what I do for thanks or appreciation, but it’s rare for somebody to recognize you and really see you. Whether Jake tries to pull back some of the sincerity of what he just said or not, I will hold on to and cherish his words.
“This is it,” the driver says a few minutes later.
We both pull apart as if our parents just caught us cuddling in the back seat. I glance over at Walker, who is fast asleep. The little guy stayed awake almost the whole time we were in the air, mostly because the flight attendant and girl who did my nails kept gushing over him. He’s a ham, so he seemed to eat up all the attention, but now he’s got to rest.
“He good?” Jake asks.
“Just tired,” I say. I lean to the side, glancing out the window. Manhattan is busy, as always, and we’re in one of the premier shopping districts. I can see it from the way most of the pedestrians are dressed even before I start scanning the names on the storefronts.
“Come on,” he says. “Want me to hold Walker?”
“Um, okay,” I say. Usually, I don’t like letting people hold his carrier. I have an irrational fear that they’ll drop him. But I also have to admit that Jake Summers looks like he’s too coordinated and athletic to ever drop something by mistake.
The driver gets our doors, making me feel a little silly as people on the street start giving us looks. Even in this part of the city, I guess it’s a little unusual to see a man dressed in “fancy driver” clothes getting doors for people. Or maybe it’s that Jake Summers is famous enough for one out of every two people walking by to recognize him.