Page 50 of Heart Checked By the Hockey Heartthrob

Then, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, I kiss her. Soft at first, then deeper as she presses closer. Her wet hands settle on my chest, mine at her waist. Everything else fades—the dishes, the clock, the entire town—until it’s just the two of us, finally in sync.

When we part, she rests her forehead against mine. “I’ve wanted that for a long time.”

“Me too.”

That night, I head back to the rink for the evening session and see Griff already drilling the kids. He claps me on the shoulder so hard I nearly fall into the boards.

“Welcome home, buddy,” he says.

Then I lace up my skates and see Jake in the group. We race the length of the ice, just the two of us, breath puffing into the air like smoke. I let him win. He crows like he’s just won gold.

I don’t think I’ve ever felt more like myself.

And I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to stay right here anymore than I do right now.

Chapter nineteen

Quinn

The Sunset Cove Annual Charity Hockey Festival is one of those events that brings the entire town to life. Kids run around in face paint, local vendors line the sidewalks with food carts and handmade crafts, and the scent of kettle corn and grilled sausage floats through the crisp afternoon air. The rink is transformed into a hub of laughter and music, with strings of fairy lights overhead and banners fluttering in the breeze.

Wes meets me at the community booth just before the festival’s big youth game. He’s wearing a Sunset Cove jersey with COACH in bold letters across the back and a backwards cap that somehow makes him look even more unfairly attractive.

“Coach Archer, reporting for duty,” he says, mock saluting.

“Late, as usual,” I tease, handing him a clipboard. “You’re on roster check-in.”

“I was busy charming the old ladies at the bake sale. Mrs. Randall gave me a whole tin of lemon bars.”

“I’ll allow it,” I reply, grinning. “They’re her secret weapon.”

As Wes handles the player list, I spot familiar faces all around. Griff is running the puck shootout station, trying to stop a group of middle schoolers from pelting him with foam pucks. Abby and Beckett are managing the baby gear swap with Violet strapped to Abby’s chest in a star-patterned baby carrier. Even Mayor Holt is there, posing for photos in front of the donation banner.

Jake zips past on rollerblades, wearing a handmade sign that reads "Ask me about raffle tickets!" He high-fives Wes mid-roll.

“You bribed him, didn’t you?” I ask.

“Two candy bars and a promise to teach him a new slap shot trick.”

We laugh, and for a moment, it’s easy. Comfortable. We fit here, in this chaos of community and color.

Over near the hot cocoa booth, Mrs. O’Hara is giving out snickerdoodles and unsolicited love advice. I spot her wagging her finger at the teenage couple holding hands by the snow cone cart.

“Keep those elbows apart and that communication honest, young man. That’s how you last past prom night!”

During the charity game’s halftime, Wes takes his sister Liz to the mic for the raffle draw. "And the winner of the sunset kayak tour for two—generously donated by Cove Paddle Company—is... Ellie Atkinson!"

Cheers erupt as Ellie, a shy teenager from the clinic's front desk, blushes and waves from the bleachers. Her mom hugs her with such joy you’d think they had won the lottery.

“You’re a natural,” I tell Wes as he returns to my side. Then he hugs Liz as I tell her how much I admire her ability to tolerate Wes on the home front.I crack myself up.

“I’m just here for the lemon bars.”

“Liar.”

“Okay, fine. I like seeing you smile.”

A sudden whistle breaks through the chatter—Mrs. O’Hara, the town’s honorary MC, takes the mic next.

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