Page 70 of Heart Checked By the Hockey Heartthrob

Wes shrugs, looking proud but casual. “Let’s just say Abby and Liz threatened to riot if I didn’t let them micromanage.”

“Smart man.”

He grins. “I realize how much I like it when my house is full.”

I glance around—colorful beach towels draped over railings, wet flip-flops lined up haphazardly, someone laughing so hard they’re wheezing over by the bocce set.

“Yeah,” I say. “Me too.”

The afternoon unfolds in a blur of sun and chaos. Savannah leads a group of small kids in a sandcastle contest. Griff tries to organize a beach volleyball game that devolves into everyone arguing about the rules and then giving up to swim. Jake ends up on Wes’s shoulders during a chicken fight that has absolutely no rules and an alarming amount of shouting.

There are burnt marshmallows. Slippery watermelon slices. At one point, Beckett tries to use a paddleboard as a buffet table. It tips. Liz gets a full plate of grilled shrimp dumped down her front and doesn’t even flinch. “Protein!” she announces. “I’m powered for the next round!”

And through it all, Wes is steady. Present. Happy in a way that feels real and earned.

I don’t even realize how much I’m watching him until Abby slides up beside me, sunglasses pushed onto her head.

“You look like someone who’s falling hard,” she says, nudging me gently.

I glance at her. “I already fell.”

She smiles. “Then brace yourself, because I think he’s about to knock you over again.”

“What—?”

Before I can finish the sentence, Wes climbs up onto the back deck. The crowd quiets automatically—probably thinking he’s about to announce the s’mores portion of the program. He clears his throat, and I catch the flicker of nerves in his smile.

“Hey, everyone,” he says. “Thanks for coming out today. I wanted this day to be full—of laughter, of sunburns, of way too many hot dogs. But I also had another reason for putting it together.”

Now the silence turns into stillness. My heart kicks.

“I bought this house a couple of years ago thinking it’d be a good place to hide. A place to disappear between seasons. But what I didn’t realize back then was… I didn’t want to disappear. I wanted to find something real.”

He looks at me then.

And only me.

“I found it.”

There’s a hush. My fingers press around the base of my drink. My heart forgets how to beat.

“Quinn,” he says, stepping down off the deck, barefoot and sure, and walking across the sand like he already knows I’ll meet him halfway. “You’ve been the bravest person I know since the day I met you. You show up for everyone—even when you’re hurting. You carry whole worlds on your shoulders and still make space for other people’s chaos. Including mine.”

He stops a few feet away, and his voice lowers just for me.

“You’re the reason this place feels like home. You’re the reason I stopped running.”

The breath catches in my throat.

He reaches into his pocket, and for one impossibly long second, I think he’s pulling out a seashell.

But it’s a box.

A simple velvet box.

I freeze. My hand flies to my chest. He drops to one knee in the sand.

And everything. Stops.

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