Page 1 of Heart Checked By the Hockey Heartthrob

Prologue - Wes

I used to think walking away was a kind of strength.

That if you loved someone, and knew you couldn’t be what they needed, the right thing—thehonorablething—was to let them go before you ruined everything. Before the road games and media glare and bone-deep exhaustion bled into the things that mattered most.

Like Quinn Price’s smile.Her stubborn, brilliant fire.The soft way she said my name when I didn’t feel like I deserved it.

I left that behind six months ago. No goodbye. No closure. Just a short message on her voicemail, then silence. Coward’s move, I know. But I’d convinced myself I was protecting her from the parts of me no one sees past the jersey.

Turns out, walking away doesn’t make you strong.It just makes you empty.

I remember the last time I saw her. It was right after the final Ice Hawks win of the season. She was at the edge of the tunnel in her paramedic gear, trying to act like my girl and a professionalat the same time. I loved that about her—how she could be both at once.

She called out my name. “Wes!”

I looked back. She smiled like she didn’t know I was already planning to disappear.

That image burned behind my eyes all summer.

I tried to dive back into hockey. Focus on next season. But every city felt colder without her. Every win meant less. Even Griff and Beckett noticed I wasn’t myself. Beck pulled me aside one night, handed me a whiskey, and said, “You’re running from the wrong thing, brother.”

Still, I kept running.

Until the night my knee gave out in a fluke practice accident. A snap, a fall, and a specialist confirming what my gut already knew—I wasn’t going back to the ice.

I didn’t call anyone. Didn’t tell Quinn. Especially not Quinn.

What could I say?Hey, remember me—the guy who ghosted you because he thought he was doing you a favor? Turns out I was just scared of being loved too much.

But with my hockey career over, I finally stopped running.

And now I’m back in Sunset Cove.

Not for sympathy. Not even for redemption.

I came home because something deep down—something stubborn and loud—refused to let me believe that was the end of our story.

I’m not naïve. Quinn’s probably moved on. She has every right to slam the door in my face. Maybe she already has. But I owe it to both of us to show her that this time, I’m not going anywhere.

I’m staying in this town. For my friends. For the youth hockey academy Beckett started. For the part of myself I lost somewhere on the road.

And maybe, just maybe, for the chance to win her heart back.

Even if she never lets me.Even if I don’t deserve it.

I’ll earn every second of her forgiveness.

Because the truth is—I never stopped loving her.

Chapter one

Quinn

I don’t hear the crowd. Not really.

When a player hits the ice like that—full speed, no brace, the crack of body on boards loud enough to hush the whole arena—my brain kicks into overdrive. I’m all muscle memory and clinical instinct. There’s no room for nerves. No time for past heartbreak. It’s just me, the ice, and the player on the ground.

I vault over the low gate with my med bag already unzipped, EMT vest catching wind as I sprint across the ice. The Irondale Ice Hawks logo blurs beneath my boots, but I barely register it. Number 27 is down, clutching his shoulder and trying not to cry. He’s a rookie. I’ve seen him before. Barely out of college. The way he hit the boards—shoulder first, no twist to absorb impact—I’m betting dislocation. Maybe a torn ligament.

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