Busted (Promise Harbor Wedding)(22)

Trophies covered the tops of bookcases and the thick window ledges. Banners and certificates covered two walls, leaving the television Coach had put in when his wife died a couple years ago on one wall. The other wall featured a massive window overlooking the lake.

A framed photo caught his attention and he picked it up. Their first state championship win. Jackson could still feel the solid weight of Coach’s arm around his shoulders, remember the warmth and pride in the old man’s eyes even though he rarely smiled.

Jackson’s throat tightened and he set the picture down, sweeping the room for the hockey stick. After checking the closet and behind a pile of other gear packed neck-high in a corner, he almost gave up. Then he spotted it behind the door.

His fingers closed over the wooden stick, the grip foreign and familiar all at the same time. He closed his eyes, wishing like hell he could slip back in time and remember what it felt like to be so damn sure about something. Anything.

Right now he’d settle for having just one piece of his life figured out. After the accident he hadn’t had a clue what he’d do with himself, and there hadn’t been a single offer worth pursuing until the assistant coaching position came along days ago.

It wasn’t playing, but coaching was as close to the game as he could get now. He wasn’t sure yet how he’d fill the kind of shoes Mitch Stone had stepped into before every game. Take that and multiple it by a thousand and he might be able to guess at the kind of pressure that came with coaching a professional team. It would be worth it, though, if it got him back in the NHL.

His gaze returned to the state championship picture, then drifted across the others on Coach’s desk. The old man was actually smiling in one with Matt and Hayley. Her grin was as bright as her grandfather’s, and Jackson caught himself smiling at it.

Maybe he’d been exaggerating about the women earlier, trying to talk her into keeping up the pretense of a relationship, but he was definitely serious about wanting to spend more time with her. He didn’t need her fend off the local puck bunnies, but he’d use any excuse he could to get a little closer to her.

Hayley didn’t dwell on his accident or hockey career and had been the only one to ask if he even wanted to coach. Everyone else just seemed to assume he would. Between her gorgeous smile and infectious laugh, she had a way of making him forget that his life hadn’t turned out the way he’d expected—

Bang!

Jackson jumped at the slamming of a door down the hall, jerking the hockey stick up like a baseball bat.

“Hayley?” He hadn’t heard her come in, but maybe he’d been too lost in thought.

Eyes locked on the hallway, Jackson left the den. He moved through the house until he came to the only room with the door shut. He reached for the knob—

Knock! Knock! Knock!

The hockey stick hit the floor. He might have too, his heart somewhere between his stomach and his throat. He didn’t believe in ghosts and haunted houses or any of that bullshit, but something was f*cking with him, something…

“Hayley? You home?” The muffled voice came from out front, followed by a series of short knocks.

On the front door. The one down the hall. Not the one he was crouched in front of like something out of a B-rated horror flick.

He really needed to get a grip.

Swearing under his breath, Jackson stalked to the front door and yanked it open, half prepared to snap at whoever was on the other side. As if it was their fault he’d let some stupid crack Hayley made about the place being haunted get to him.

Two teens stood on the porch. A third, seated in a wheelchair, waited at the bottom of the stairs. All three wore Promise Harbor Hawks T-shirts. Coach’s latest players, Jackson assumed.

“You’re…him. You’re…” the shorter teen stuttered.

He stuck his hand out. “Jackson.”

The two on the porch shook his hand in turn, the shorter one looking like he might pass out.

The taller one elbowed his teammate. “We were looking for Hayley.”

“She’s not here.”

The taller one’s shoulders slumped a little. “We were hoping she could do a few drills with us today. Hockey camp starts next week.”

“It’s not gonna be the same without Coach running it this year.” The shorter one quieted at the sharp look from his teammate.

Jackson recognized that we-don’t-talk-about-it look. His former teammates had exchanged that same look dozens of times right after Jackson’s accident. A few of them had needed to fill the uncomfortable silences with words of encouragement, insisting he’d be back on his skates in no time, but every one of them had known that wouldn’t happen.

The kid in the wheelchair glanced down at the reminder of Coach’s failing health, the brim of his ball cap hiding his eyes.

“I’m not sure when Hayley will be back, but I’ll let her know you guys were looking for her.”

“Would you be able to run some drills for us? The other guys would crap their pants if we showed up with you.”

“He’s way too busy for that,” the taller one put in, sounding just a bit hopeful that he was wrong.

“You need to see Cody play, Mr. Knight. Coach says he has a gift.” Pride filled the voice of kid in the wheelchair as he stared up at the taller one.

His older brother, Jackson guessed, noting the resemblance between the pair. He also saw the eagerness in the teen opposite him, recognized the same determined gleam Jackson had once seen in his own mirror every day. The kid wanted it bad. Wanted the speed, the challenge, the glory of a breakaway goal with every voice in the arena cheering him on.

He understood exactly what the kid hungered for even as the loss of that dream struck Jackson square in the chest. “I’ll let Hayley know you guys could use extra help.”

The kids stared at him expectantly.

He jerked his thumb behind him. “I’m in the middle of helping with renovations,” he offered as an excuse, feeling a little bit like an * turning the kids down. He’d always enjoyed offering advice and hitting the puck around with kids that made his career possible, but that was before it meant setting foot in his old arena with a bum knee and not a lot to show for the years he’d busted his ass. “Maybe another time,” he threw in.

“Cool,” the two on the porch echoed in unison.

“Are you Hayley’s new boyfriend?” Cody’s younger brother rolled his wheelchair as close to the bottom step as he could. “Because our mom said that Eric Thorton came in and ordered a bunch of flowers for her first thing this morning.”

Apparently Eric wanted to know what it was like to have them shoved up his ass. After what Eric said at the reception, Jackson sure as hell couldn’t imagine Hayley expressing her gratitude for a bouquet any other way.

“She likes girly movies, you know. Horror ones piss her off.” The shorter teen shook his head like he couldn’t fathom why she wouldn’t want to watch people being stalked and murdered one by one.

“She hates pepperoni on her pizza,” Cody added.

The kid in the wheelchair nodded. “And she always complains about needing a foot massage.”

“I appreciate the tips,” Jackson began, cut off by the sound of a door slamming inside.

Seriously? He’d blame an open window and the wind, but the breeze outside was barely enough to stir the occasional blade of grass bordering the glassy surface of the lake.

Either the boys didn’t hear the door slam or they weren’t that worried about it.

“You should be part of the bachelor auction.”

Cody elbowed his friend again. “Dude, he’s dating Hayley. He can’t be part of the auction.”

“She could bid on him, douche.” The shorter one put a little space between himself and his friend’s elbow. “We’re raising money for Kyle.” He nodded to the kid in the wheelchair. “He has cystic fibrosis and needs a new lung.”

Jackson didn’t know a lot about CF except that it would probably kill the kid long before his time should be up.

“If you can’t do the auction, maybe you could do an autograph signing.” Kyle looked at his brother and friend. “We could sell tickets to it.”

“That’s a good idea, bro.” Cody glanced at Jackson. While he might have been shy about asking for Jackson to help with drills, the teen didn’t hesitate when it came to helping his younger brother.

“Sure,” Jackson said after a moment. Talking about the good old days and answering questions about what he was doing with himself now were not on his list of favorite things to do, but looking at Kyle made his own problems less important. “Just give me a time and a place, and I’ll be there.”

“Awesome.”

The teens jogged down the steps, paused. “Is it true you’re up for a coaching position with the Sentinels?”

Deciding it was a waste of time to keep secrets in Promise Harbor, Jackson nodded.