5. Sutton

5

SUTTON

My eyes burned as I pulled into the rink’s parking lot. These super early mornings were trying to kill me. Today’s extra cupcake order had been for an engagement party. Thankfully, the bride-to-be had wanted whimsical over tried and true bridal white. She’d asked for cupcakes representing significant moments in her and her fiancé’s lives.

It had been a fun project, where I’d gotten to hear all about their journey together. We’d opted for the mascot of the college they went to, which was an adorable beaver, a frisbee for their competitive frisbee golf hobby, a sunset over the mountains for where he’d asked her to be his wife, and my favorite, a likeness of their beloved schnauzer, Samson.

But the intricate artwork always took me three times as long as my more straightforward fare. I was exhausted, my back ached, and I was pretty sure my vision still hadn’t recovered from all the squinting. It was worth it, though. Because I was getting more and more referrals from within the community. And maybe if that kept going, I could find a way to keep the bakery and my apartment .

“Coach Reaper says we get to pick our nicknames at the end of this week,” Luca said as I pulled into a parking spot.

I still couldn’t help but wince at the awful name. Reaper? Who picked that as what they would be called throughout their career?

“I’m pretty partial to Superstar,” I said as I turned off the engine.

Luca rolled his eyes, looking so much older than his seven years. “ Moooom , that’s dorky.”

I clutched my chest. “Knife to the heart, kid. You don’t like my nickname?”

Luca giggled, looking more his age. “It sounds like I’m bragging.”

He had a point. I twisted in my seat. “You know, I like that you’re thinking about how your nickname might make other people feel. Shows me how kind you are.”

Luca’s cheeks pinked. “I don’t like it when people make me feel bad about something. Like I’m not as good as them.”

A wave of fierce protectiveness surged, and I had to bite back the urge to demand to know who had ever made him feel bad about himself so I could hunt down a bunch of soon-to-be second-graders. Instead, I calmly said, “It’s great that you can remember that and try not to do the same.”

Luca’s little mouth fought a smile. “But I still want something really cool.”

I grinned. “Of course, you do. I think we need some time to brainstorm. How about we watch Mighty Ducks tonight, eat our weight in cupcakes, and make a list?”

He beamed, and, God, that smile was a gift. It was the kind of grin that said my kid had no worries beyond picking the coolest hockey nickname imaginable. And that was what I’d been working so hard for. What I’d fought for when I packed my apartment up in the dead of night and drove across the country for days. What I’d worked countless double shifts and sold plasma for. What I bore scars for.

My fingers itched to trace the faint line from the split lip or the raised flesh on my side where I’d been sliced by that enforcer’s steel-toed boot. But I resisted. It was a miracle I’d hidden the worst of the damage from Luca as it was. I wasn’t about to be the one to remind him.

“Mom, you are the AWESOMEST !” Luca cheered.

I laughed, releasing the painful memories and holding on to the good. “I love being the awesomest. Are you ready to go kick some hockey booty?”

“Duh!” Luca unlatched his seat belt. “Can I get out?”

I quickly looked around the parking lot. “Sure. But stay right by the car.”

Luca nodded, slid out of his booster seat, and shoved the door open. I hurried to extricate myself because I didn’t trust my kid’s willpower to keep himself in place. Crossing to the rear of my SUV, I lifted the back hatch.

Luca bounced up and down, telling me all about what they’d done yesterday for the tenth time. Whatever this hockey bug was, he had it bad. And I couldn’t help the nerves that settled in deep. Ones that set me on edge.

It felt wrong to hope that Luca didn’t have what it took to go the distance with this sport. But was it really bad to wish he was just good enough to play through high school and then call it a day? I wanted him to do something perfectly boring for a career. An accountant or dermatologist sounded nice.

But as I slung the massive duffel over my shoulder and closed the hatch, I couldn’t help taking in the sheer joy on Luca’s face. That was what I wanted most of all. His happiness.

And if hockey gave him that, so be it. I’d be the most diehard hockey mom around. I should probably watch some YouTube videos. Or maybe there was a how-to guide somewhere.

I reached out a hand, and Luca took it, swinging our arms back and forth as he talked a mile a minute, throwing out terms that might as well have been a foreign language. When we reached the sidewalk, he dropped my hand and ran ahead to open the door.

I dipped my head in a mock bow. “Thank you, kind sir.”

Luca just giggled again. The moment we were inside, he took off running toward his fellow campers. So much for being the awesomest. I placed the bag in a row of others and moved toward the trophy case on the far wall.

My vision blurred slightly as I took in the rows of awards and team photos. I blinked a few times, clearing the burning sensation as I rubbed at the knots in my lower back. My gaze stopped on one photo in particular. The boys looked a year or two older than Luca was now. They were caught mid-celebration, holding up a large cup. Some were laughing, others cheering, but my eyes were stuck on one in the middle.

He was helping one of the coaches hold the cup, but his focus was on the coach himself. There was so much reverence and respect in his stare. The hair was blonder in this photo than the light brown it was now. But I would’ve recognized those dark-blue eyes anywhere.

That fact should’ve scared the hell out of me, but I couldn’t pull away. The man Cope gazed up at looked so much like him that I figured it had to be his father or another relative. I knew from Thea that the Colsons had lost their eldest brother and father in a car accident many years ago. And staring at the photo now, I could see the loss had been a great one.

“What’s with the sad eyes?”

I whirled at that now-familiar tone, the one that had me wanting to roll around in it like a dog in its beloved mud. What the heck was wrong with me?

“Cope,” I greeted.

He grinned, but there was a heaviness beneath it. Something that told me his existence wasn’t all sunshine and roses, even with his hockey-star status. Or maybe it was just the knowledge of what he had lost.

The grin slipped a little. “You okay, Warrior?”

“What’s with the nickname?” I asked, trying to change the subject and not wanting to know if he could see all the ways I was fracturing.

One corner of his mouth picked back up again. When it did, I saw that he had his own faint scar there. “Can’t tell me you’re not determined to fight all your own battles,” Cope said, the smile falling again. “But you look exhausted.”

That stung my pride. Apparently, my expertly applied concealer wasn’t doing its job today. “Is that a nice way of saying I look like shit?”

I expected Cope to panic, get flustered, apologize. Any of those responses. But he just stared at me, one eyebrow slightly cocked. “Do I look like an idiot?”

“Not sure you want me to answer that, Hotshot.”

“Definitely a warrior. She’s not afraid to level the death blow,” Cope muttered, amusement lacing his tone. “I may miss a lot of things, but one of those will never be how fucking gorgeous you are. Doesn’t matter if you’re covered in grease or flour or have dark circles you’re drowning in. None of it will take away an ounce of your beauty.”

My jaw went slack as I gaped at Cope. I didn’t have much dating experience. I’d gotten together with Roman my first year of college and had been on a total of three dates since we’d split. But even with my minimal experience, I’d gotten used to one thing. Game playing.

The tactics and strategies differed from guy to guy, but the arena was the same. And it was exhausting. But here Cope was, shooting straight and to the point.

“I, uh?—”

“Mom!” Luca called, waddling toward me in his gear and skates, his face scrunched. “My skates feel too tight.”

Panic shot through me as I felt the blood drain from my face. If Luca had outgrown his skates overnight, I didn’t have a solution. My emergency fund was gone, and my rent on both properties had increased. I was running on fumes.

Cope’s gaze moved from Luca to me and stayed on my face for a bit. “Hey, Speedy. Can I take a look?”

Luca looked up at his idol and beamed, then nodded. “Sure, Coach Reaper.”

Cope grinned and instantly crouched, dropping his bag onto the floor. His fingers moved deftly around Luca’s skates and laces before he glanced up at me. “You using waxed laces for his skates?”

My brow furrowed. “Um, I’m not sure. They came with a fresh set, and I put those on.” I’d watched three YouTube videos first to make sure I was doing it right. I just hoped the secondhand store hadn’t given me the wrong laces.

Cope quickly untied the skate and rubbed the lace between his fingers. “Waxed.”

“Is that bad?” I asked, worrying my bottom lip.

“Not at all,” Cope assured me. “But it gives the skate a tighter feel, more rigid.” He looked at Luca. “Are you used to skating in the rentals from here?”

Luca nodded. “Mom got me these right before camp.”

“Bingo,” Cope said with a grin. “They use cloth laces for the rentals. It gives the skate a little more flexibility. I grew up skating with cloth and switched to waxed in high school.”

Luca tugged his lip between his teeth, a move I knew he’d learned from me. “You use waxed now?”

Cope nodded. “I don’t want my skates having too much give on the ice.”

“I can keep the wax ones,” Luca said quickly.

Cope chuckled and moved to unzip his bag. “There’s plenty of time for that. Let’s switch you to cloth for now. You don’t want blisters to keep you from skating.”

“No,” Luca agreed begrudgingly.

Cope pulled a set of white laces from his bag.

“You don’t have to do that,” I started.

Cope’s dark-blue gaze cut to me. “It’s no problem. I brought some extras in case anyone had issues.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. “Just let me know how much I owe you?—”

“Warrior,” Cope chided softly. “Just let me do something nice. It’s good for my ego.”

My lips twitched. “I’m not sure your ego needs any help.”

Cope grinned as he went back to work. “Fair point.”

“Sutton,” Evelyn called as she headed in my direction. “Do you need me to give Luca a ride back to the bakery today? ”

“Bakery?” Cope asked as he slipped one of Luca’s skates off his foot with ease.

Evelyn sent him one of her perfectly poised smiles as she smoothed auburn hair that was already expertly pulled back into a chignon. “Yes, our Sutton here is quite busy at The Mix Up. It can be hard for her to manage drop-off and pickup.”

Annoyance flared at the reminder of all the ways I was failing to juggle the countless things I was responsible for.

Cope’s gaze shot to me. “You work at The Mix Up?”

I gave him a small nod. “I own it.”

A huge smile broke out over his face, one that had me sucking in a sharp breath at its potency. It was real, I realized. No forced fakeness. And Cope truly smiling? It was lethal.

“Thea brought some cupcakes from there to a family dinner the other week. They were incredible. Cute as shit, too. With little bumblebees on them,” Cope said, grinning wider.

Evelyn gasped. “Coach Colson. Watch your language, please.”

Cope’s brows lifted. “What’d I say?”

“The s-word,” she hissed.

Luca giggled. “If I say a bad word, I gotta do extra chores.”

Cope’s lips twitched as he turned back to me. “Want me to come over and mop the bakery floors? I can give Speedy here a ride home.”

Evelyn let out an exasperated huff. “I am guessing you do not have a booster seat in your vehicle, Mr. Colson. Children under the height of fifty-seven inches and the age of eight are required by law to ride in one. Thankfully, I have an extra in my SUV so I can safely transport Daniel’s friends.”

Cope stared at her for a long moment. “Have you ever thought of getting a job with my brother Trace? I think you two would get along.”

“Excuse me?” she spluttered.

“That attention to detail and letter-of-the-law stuff? Two peas in a pod.”

I struggled to hold in my laugh and eventually had to cover it with a cough .

Evelyn straightened and turned to me. “Do you want me to give Luca a ride?”

That heat in my chest was back, the flush of guilt at being unable to manage it all. “I’d really appreciate it. Thank you.”

“Of course.” Evelyn shot Cope a dirty look and headed off in Daniel’s direction.

Cope clapped the sides of Luca’s skate. “You’re good to go. Meet you on the ice?”

Luca nodded enthusiastically. “Thanks, Coach Reaper.” He waddled off before we could get in another word.

Cope pushed to standing, and the height difference had my head spinning. His tee pulled against the planes of muscle in his chest as he shoved his hands into his pockets. “That lady’s a piece of work.”

I shook my head. “She just has it all together. Isn’t used to people who aren’t perfect, I think.”

Cope was quiet for a moment as he studied me. “That’s cool if micromanaging rules and regs is her thing, but it sure as shit isn’t cool if she’s using backhanded compliments to make you feel bad about having a job. One you should be fucking proud of because I heard you turned that bakery around. And those cupcakes are some of the best I’ve ever had in my life. And I’m not a stranger to sweets.”

An odd sensation swept over me. Discomfort. As if my skin was too tight for my body. “It’s not like that?—”

“It is,” Cope cut in. “And you shouldn’t let anyone talk to you that way. I’m sure as hell not.”

“Cope—”

“Warrior, remember? That means not letting idiots put you down.”

A burn lit somewhere deep—the pain of remembering how long it had been since someone had reminded me of my worth. I wasn’t sure it had happened since my grandmother passed.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have good friends. I did. But with them, I tried to make it seem like I had it together. Like nothing fazed me.

So why was it that the bad boy of hockey was the one to see through it all? Why was he the one who saw…me?