Maybe This Time

by Jennifer Snow

  * * *

  His feet had been in his skates for over nine hours. Sweat pooled on his lower back under his jersey, and his legs were moving on autopilot. He hadn’t slept more than four hours a night in weeks, and his joints creaked and felt stiff when he tried to get up every morning.

  But it was all worth it, he told himself. After all, this shot meant everything to him, didn’t it?

  “Westmore, Coach Turner wants to see you in his office,” the assistant coach said, sticking his head into the crowded locker room after the game.

  All his teammates stopped talking, stopped moving, probably stopped breathing based on the dead silence that fell over the room. All eyes stared at him.

  “Okay, I’ll just hit the showers…”

  “He needs to see you now.”

  He swallowed hard, placing his hands on his knees to push his seizing muscles to a standing position. They’d won eight games straight. He’d assisted in nine of the fourteen goals, and he’d done his job protecting the goalie. If the coach was finally realizing he had recruited an almost thirty-year-old player, at least Jackson had had a good run. “Okay,” he said, trying to hide what a struggle it was just to walk to the other side of the arena to Coach Turner’s office.

  He knocked once and the coach nodded him in. His cell was cradled against his shoulder and ear while he typed furiously. “Yes. Sending it all to you now. Tomorrow…Phoenix…Okay.” He disconnected the call. “You’re being sent up.”

  He what? He stood there staring at that man, wondering if he’d heard him right.

  “Don’t thank me or anything,” Coach Turner said in the silence.

  Shit. He hadn’t actually said anything. “Sorry, um, thank you…I mean, I…Can I sit?” His legs had decided not to support him anymore.

  Coach Turner, a thin man who’d always looked old, even when he was young, nodded his balding head. “For like thirty seconds, then you need to get to the airport.”

  Airport? That night? So much for the next two days off. He’d been planning on going home. After that call from Taylor and the talk with Darryl, he wanted to check in on the team, talk to the head of the minor leagues.

  “Westmore, you hearing any of this?”

  He blinked. “Yes, sir.”

  “You’re going to play in Phoenix under Coach Foster. They just had their best defensive player taken out with a stick to the shin—broken in three places. They asked if I had an experienced player they could use as a third line if needed tomorrow night. You’re it.”

  He still couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what the coach was saying. Maybe because he still believed getting this far had been a fluke or some weird obligation the organization felt to the Westmore name. “Okay…Yes…Thank you,” he said.

  “Westmore, snap out of it! You’re going to play an NHL game.”

  Was he? Or would he sit on the sidelines again—so close to the action, and not getting a chance to prove himself. He’d been in this position before and it had broken him. Could he really survive the disappointment again if things didn’t work out? Especially while his heart was still aching for another dream that had been within reach. “I’m just…”

  “Surprised? Confused? Exhausted? Hoping they don’t bench you again?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, add rested and focused to that before tomorrow night. This is your shot, man. You’re not a kid anymore—make the best of it. Now go before I change my mind. Truth is, I don’t want to lose you from my team,” he grumbled, indeed looking as though he might change his mind about sending him any second.

  He nodded as he stood, no longer even feeling his body. “Yes sir, Coach. Thank you. I won’t let you down,” he said.

  “Westmore.”

  He paused and turned back.

  “Don’t let yourself down.”

  * * *

  When the text message from Becky arrived, Abigail was surrounded by Christmas presents, wrapping paper, bows, and ribbons, in the middle of her bedroom floor, trying to get an early start to her holiday preparations. Christmas was three weeks away, and she wanted this year to be extra special. But after reading Baby on the way! she’d stuffed everything back into the walk-in closet and had woken Dani, and the two were on their way to the hospital within minutes.

  “How is she?” she asked Neil when they saw him pacing the hallway.

  “Trying to suffer through without the epidural.”

  Good God, why? She’d gladly accepted the needle to the spine when the contractions on Dani had been at their worst. “She’s a superstar,” she said, glancing at Taylor, who’d come out of the room, looking slightly green.

  “You okay?” she asked the little girl whose eyes were wide.

  “I’m not going back in there,” she said.

  Abigail laughed. “I’ll take a shift with her if you guys need a break.”

  Neil held up the back of his right hand to show four nail-shaped flesh wounds. “Don’t let her hold your hand.”

  “Thanks for the warning,” she said with a smile. “Dani, do you want to go in and say hi?”

  Taylor was shaking her head. “Don’t do it, Dani.”

  Dani laughed. “I’ll stay out here.”

  “Okay.” She walked down the quiet, nearly empty hospital corridor and went into the room. “Hi.”

  “Oh thank God you’re here,” Becky said as she sat on a stability ball, rolling it around in front of the bed. She clutched the sheets in front of her as another contraction started, and she panted through it. “Remind me again why I’m doing this.”

  Abigail just smiled, and two hours later, Becky held the reminder—a beautiful baby girl—in her arms wrapped in a pink blanket, the wool hat too big for her tiny head, as Abigail reentered the room after waiting out the final moments in the waiting area with the girls while Neil helped his wife through the delivery.

  Also on Becky’s lap was her laptop, and Abigail stopped short of approaching when she heard Jackson’s voice coming from the screen. “She’s perfect, sis.”

  Her heart raced at the sound she hadn’t realized she’d missed so much until that moment.

  “It’s Jackson Skyping in from Phoenix,” Becky explained, glancing up at her. “He got called up and couldn’t be here.”

  Called up? Already? Wow. “That’s incredible,” she said, hoping she sounded sincere. Praying her further breaking heart wasn’t evident in her voice. “Tell him congratulations.” She forced her attention to the baby girl in her friend’s arms and not the screen on her lap. Jackson was in Phoenix, playing for the NHL…His dream was coming true. So why did it feel as though hers were falling apart? She had to pull it together and start moving on.

  He was.

  “Tell him congratulations yourself,” Becky said with an evil grin as she turned the computer monitor toward her.

  Panic rose in her chest as she glanced at the old sweatshirt she wore and quickly smoothed her hair behind her ears. No makeup on, and she was about to see the man she was in love with for the first time in a month. Perfect. Thanks, Becky.

  “Hi,” he said, smiling nervously as she accepted the laptop from Becky. Of course he looked amazing, if tired, in a white T-shirt, the hotel room in the background reminding her of all of the important times in her past when she’d had to Skype with Dean, while he was in a faraway hotel room, instead of there with them.

  She swallowed hard. “Hi. Congratulations—Arizona—that’s wonderful.”

  “Thanks, we won last night.”

  “Well, congratulations again…” She felt like a moron. There was so much she longed to say to him, so much she longed to hear him say, but here they were at a standstill. He had his life to live, she had hers, and she wasn’t sure they could meet in some cyberspace middle.

  “They’re keeping me up for one more game for sure. It’s tomorrow night against Colorado.”

  Her heart stopped. He would be in Denver the following evening, playing in the NHL?

  “If I reserve y
ou tickets, would you and Dani be there with Taylor?” he asked, sounding unsure. “I mean, Becky won’t be able to go and I…I’d really love it if you could be there.”

  Oh no. How was she supposed to go to his game? Watch the man she loved doing what he loved, knowing his decision to do it meant no chance at a future together. “I don’t…”

  “I miss you, Abby,” he said, staring straight at her through the monitor.

  In the bed, pretending not to listen while she cuddled her baby girl, Becky shot her a look.

  She wanted to tell him she missed him, too. That she loved him. That maybe she was ready to figure out a way to make things work. The desperate feeling of wanting to say all of that, of wanting to hold him, kiss him, be with him was so strong…The realization that once again she could be in a situation where she felt like this while he was always out of reach, faraway in some hotel room, made her hold back the words. “Dani would never forgive me if I didn’t take her to your game. So, yes, we will be there.”

  He looked disappointed, as though he’d been expecting more, hoping for more, but he smiled as he nodded. “Great. I look forward to seeing you…both.”

  “Okay, I’ll pass you back to Becky now,” she said, handing her friend the laptop, and in exchange accepting the little pink bundle. Settling into the chair next to the bed, she cuddled the little girl into her chest and smiled down at the sleeping precious child as tears gathered in her eyes.

  Thank God for little babies. They could easily be blamed for tears.

  * * *

  Turning off Dani’s bedroom light a few hours later, Abigail stared at her own little girl, wondering where the time had gone. It seemed like not so long ago that Dani had been a baby girl in her arms…She sniffed as she turned to go.

  “You okay, Mom?” Dani asked, sitting up, wiping her tired eyes.

  It had been a long, exciting night. “Yes, I’m great, sweetheart.”

  “Thanks for agreeing to take Taylor and me to the game tomorrow night. I know it’s probably hard for you to go,” she said quietly.

  Abigail went back into the room and sat on the edge of her bed. “I’m happy for Jackson. This is a wonderful opportunity.”

  Her daughter nodded. “You know, Mom, if you wanted to move to Phoenix, that would be okay with me. I mean, I’d miss Taylor and Grandma and Grandpa, but if you love Coach Westmore, then it’s okay.”

  Abigail hugged her daughter tightly. “I love you,” she said, kissing her forehead. “Now, try to get some sleep. Big day tomorrow.” She tucked her daughter back in, noticing the wooden jewelry box Jackson had made for her on Dani’s bedside table. “Where did you find that?” She’d assumed her mother had put it away, knowing it held the wedding rings.

  “It was in one of my boxes. I found it while I was unpacking, and Grandma said maybe I should just keep it in my room,” Dani said.

  Abigail picked it up and opened it. The rings caught the light of the moon coming through the open curtains, and she took them out of the box. “The rings are yours—they’ll probably pay for college,” she said with a soft smile, “but I think I’ll keep the jewelry box, if that’s okay.”

  Her daughter nodded sleepily. “He must have loved you to make you something so pretty,” she mumbled, rolling over and closing her eyes.

  Abigail held the jewelry box to her chest. Her daughter didn’t know just how right she was.

  Chapter 23

  How do you feel about playing against your brother this evening?” the reporter asked Jackson outside the locker room at the Denver stadium. The camera lights and the microphones shoved so close to his face were making him claustrophobic. He didn’t understand how the other players were so calm and cool during these pregame interviews.

  He was far from calm and cool. He was freaking out a little. Actually he was freaking out a lot. He took a deep breath and hesitated, weighing his answer. It should have been an easy one—repeat the same sentiments he’d heard Ben and Asher repeat over and over again. He was going to kick his brother’s ass. He knew Ben’s weak areas. It would be the same here tonight as it had been on the pond in Glenwood Falls when they were kids…All of these responses lined up to be used, but he was far too anxious to say any of it. Instead, he cleared his throat, and said, “I’m not sure. I guess I’ll know when I get out there.”

  The reporter looked a little confused by the answer, but she glanced at her cameraman quickly and moved on. “You played for the Eagles years ago, and this opportunity presented itself back then—but you were benched and didn’t actually play on NHL ice—is that why you took a break for a while?”

  Jeez. They really knew how to put people on edge. “I…uh, I guess so. I don’t know.” Could they just play hockey now? The longer he waited for the game to begin, the longer he sat in the hotel room waiting to go, the longer he sat under these bright lights and glaring questions, the more uneasy he felt.

  The game in Phoenix had been different; no one had known he’d been called up, no one knew who he was, and no one had expected him to play as well as he had, not even himself.

  This game was different. The pressure was on. The pressure from the media, the pressure from the team, the pressure on himself…His chest hurt.

  “Okay, one more question: Do you think we will see that amazing assist effort from you tonight like the other night in Phoenix?”

  Finally, an easy one. “You bet.” He may feel ill, he may be uncomfortable, he may be struggling with the fact that his second NHL game was on an opposing team in his hometown, against his star player brother, whom he’d yet to talk to about all of this, but none of that mattered—he would play his best game out there that evening.

  As he climbed down from the hot seat and headed toward the locker rooms, he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that he should at least talk to Ben. Ben was the NHL player, this was his career, he was leading in points in the league that season, and Jackson couldn’t help but struggle with the idea that playing his best could result in a defeat for Ben, a slide in the rankings…

  Damn it. Asher didn’t give a shit about those things. He played to win against everyone—especially Ben.

  But this was Asher’s life, too.

  He still felt like an outsider, a fake, someone they just hadn’t figured out didn’t belong there yet.

  He let out a deep breath as he entered the busy locker room. He had to get out of his head and get his focus back. The team in that room counted on him to bring his A game as he had two nights before.

  “Hey, Westmore! Don’t go easy on your brother out there,” Olaf Herman, a first line left wing said, as though reading his mind. “Because believe me, he won’t go easy on you.”

  * * *

  “Okay, you two need to stop bouncing,” Abigail said a little more harshly than she intended.

  It didn’t matter. Dani and Taylor ignored her anyway, continuing to chat excitedly as they waited for the stadium lights to dim and the national anthem to be sung.

  In her own seat, Abigail was numb. Her body and mind couldn’t decide how to feel, how to act, or what to say, so she’d gone through the motions that day in a fog. Her palms sweat but her mouth felt dry, and the soda she sipped as though it held all the answers wasn’t helping.

  The main lights went down and spotlights lit the arena. Everyone else in the stadium besides the three of them and Jackson’s mom—sitting in the owner’s box as an honorary guest—had no reason to care about the Coyotes skating out onto the ice.

  But when Jackson appeared, a round of deafening applause rattled the stands.

  She could see his expression from where she sat, and the look etched across his face caused an instant lump to surface in her throat. He looked so surprised and honored by the fans’ reaction. Here he was, living his dream.

  And as much as she hated to admit it, he looked damn good out there, like he belonged on the ice, like this was what he’d been made to do. In full hockey gear, the number thirteen on his back under his last name, he
glided effortlessly across the surface as though he’d skated on it a million times. If he was nervous, no one could tell.

  She was nervous. Incredibly freaking nervous.

  “I am so proud of him!” Taylor said, her smile wide, and Abigail nearly choked on the emotions welling up in her own chest.

  When the home team skated out, the fans continued their cheering and all around her the stadium was alive.

  As the anthem ended and the lights came up, the Arizona Coyotes skated past on their way to their players’ box and Jackson’s gaze met hers.

  He winked at her as he passed, and it was in that moment she knew.

  Hockey player or not, she loved him. And hockey player or not, she wanted to be with him.

  Now she just had to wait until this game was over so she could tell him. She suspected she was in for the longest three periods of hockey of her life.

  * * *

  The first two periods of the game were uneventful, with both teams trading scores until the home team took the lead at the beginning of the third period.

  Jackson watched the majority of the first forty minutes from the bench, playing only one two-minute round toward the end of the second, resulting in an assist for the second goal of the game. The stadium’s reaction to it had made a tornado of emotions well up inside of him. The cheering support from the fans had been exhilarating, and the look on Abby’s face had made him feel prouder of himself than he’d ever felt. He’d made it. He was good enough—for hockey and for her.

  Ben, of course, was on fire that evening, and getting to watch his brother play from a players’ box was reward in itself, but he was itching to get out there again. His mom watched from the owner’s box, and there were three other women in the stands he wouldn’t mind skating past again.

  “Westmore, you’re in next. Let’s see what you can do against your brother,” Coach Foster said, tapping him on the helmet.

  He shouldn’t be surprised they decided to play him on Ben’s line. After all, Ash had the best chance out of any defensive player to go head to head with him. Guess now it was time to find out if he could take on his brother as well.