Page 118 of Falling Back to You

Jackson flashed an impish grin. “Actually your weak spot was showing in the third period. I mean, they got six shots on you.”

“Ooh, burn.” I fist-bumped Jackson.

“What’ll it take to win you over?” Myles sighed in mock frustration.

“Pigs flying first,” I retorted. “Little dude’s got loyalty.”

Jackson laughed and scampered over to the goalie, ready to continue the conversation. “So, what’s it like to have something fly at your face at ninety miles an hour? Is it like getting punched? Have you lost any teeth?”

Gabe, who’d been watching the interaction with an indulgent smile, chuckled. “Kids.”

Yeah, kids. But God had a way of getting your attention. And sometimes His messengers were precocious preteens with toothy smiles.

Don’t hold back. No fear.

“You’re raising a good one,” I said quietly.

Pride touched Gabe’s wry smile as he watched his son wave his hands animatedly in a conversation with Myles. “Thanks. They keep you humble but, man, they’re worth it.”

“Couldn’t agree more.”

After a few selfies and more advice on how to improve our game, Gabe and Jackson left, and I hurried to grab a shower so I could catch a ride with them to the restaurant. But Jackson’s words lodged in my brain on repeat.

I had been holding back. Keeping my feelings close to the vest, especially after the paparazzi. I knew how I felt about Noelle, and now wasn’t the time to second-guess or play it safe. This very occurrence was what I’d prayed for. I might not understand why we had to break to get to this point, but I trusted it was part of God’s plan.

I was done holding back, and it was time to tell her that. Right after dinner.

Gabe chatted with the hostess about the reservation, but her eyes kept wandering over to me while I played peek-a-boo with three-year-old Eden, Gabe and Ivy’s youngest. And look, I wasn’t vain, but I couldn’t get this toddler to crack a smile. Everyone smiled at me. I must be losing my touch.

The third time the hostess glanced my way, I sighed. At this rate, we wouldn’t be sitting down until Thanksgiving. Time to speed things along. Stepping up to the counter, I nodded at her. “Ma’am.”

She tittered, the high-pitched sound grating my nerves.

“I’m here with family friends”—I motioned to Gabe—“so if we could keep this quiet, that’d be great.” As much as I loved interacting with the fans, I hated when my presence took away from other people’s time to shine. Just like it had with Noelle. Tonight was Jackson’s night.

“Right. Sure. Of course.” She smiled at me, dazed, but led us to the back of the restaurant to a quiet booth.

Conversation drifted to the menu, Gabe’s last month in the Marines before his contract was officially over, and Jackson’s birthday plans.

“You still playing hockey, Jackson?” I asked.

“Yes, sir.” He wrinkled his nose. “But San Diego isn’t prime hockey territory.”

Gabe reached over and ruffled his son’s hair. “Once we get to Denver and experience a Colorado winter, you’ll be missing the sunshine.”

“So Denver is a go?” I sipped my lemon water. “Nana was okay with that?”

Ivy laughed. “Okay with might be stretching it.”

Gabe sighed like a weary general. “We’re still in negotiations.”

That’s what he said. Negotiations. Like this was a full-blown military tactical invasion with backup plans, reroutes, and a hostage crisis. Because one never simply discussed anything with the half-Italian, bright-colour-loving octogenarian who marched like life was a drill sergeant and demanded your full attention.

“So Spokane is still on the table then?” I joked since that’s where Gabe’s younger half sister, Stephanie, and her new husband, Nash, lived.

“Anything’s possible at this rate.” Gabe grunted. “Even Alaska if Nana has a mind to go.”

Once the food came, conversation slowed into clattering forks and contented sighs. Jackson and Ava were locked in a debate about the pros and cons of macaroni noodle shapes—eight-year-old Ava was a penne fan, while Jackson supported the fusilli. Ryder, the oldest at thirteen, opened a fresh ketchup packet for Eden, who was silently chomping on chicken nuggets. The remains of the previous condiment package liberally coated her hands and face.