Page 70 of The Pucking Player

“You’re—”

“Just a guy getting coffee for his girl,” I say with what Ihope is a charming, please-don’t-post-this-on-social-media smile. “Oat milk cappuccino, extra hot, light foam. And a black coffee.”

As I wait for the drinks, I scroll through my phone to find the team group chat already active.

[Nate]: Anyone else notice our captain looking like a lovesick puppy every time Coach’s daughter shows up at practice?

[Logan]: You mean every time she “happens” to be studying in the rink café?

[Caleb]: Better than Finn inviting Jessica for coffee and getting shut down.

[Finn]: It was a perfectly normal thing to ask!

[Mason]: Coffee isn’t a date, bro. Even O’Connor knows better than that.

[Aiden]: Speaking of our fearless leader—taking bets on how long until Coach figures out Liam’s IN LOVE.

[Dmitri]: The way he stares at her? I give it a week. Maybe less.

[Logan]: Remember when our captain used to be smooth? Now he trips over his own feet whenever she walks by.

[Adam]: I swear to God, O’Connor, if you’re anywhere near my sister right now...

[Nate]: Relax, it’s 7am. Even Liam’s not dumb enough to...

If only they knew.

But they will soon. Because I’m done hiding. Done pretending Sophie is just a PR move. Time to face the music. And by music, I mean Coach’s inevitable explosion when he finds out I’ve been secretly dating his daughter.

Defilinghis daughter, as I’m sure he’ll put it.

The walk back is quicker, like even my feet know where they want to be. The sun is properly up now, painting the old brick buildings in soft gold. A few more students aretrickling out of the dorms, clutching travel mugs and looking varying degrees of zombie-like.

But all I can think about is getting back to my girl. About watching her wake up slowly, the way she blinks at me all soft and sleep-rumpled. About telling her that I’m ready to risk her father’s fury.

The perfect croissants were a lucky find on my way back. The little bakery next to the coffee shop was just pulling them out of the oven. I also grabbed us twoof the green smoothies Sophie’s mentioned. Something about antioxidants and brain food. It will be a perfect pre-training snack for me too.

Back in her room, I ease onto the bed, setting breakfast on the nightstand. Sophie’s still curled up in the spot I slept, her face buried in a pillow. The sight of her, lying naked and tired from fucking, does things to my heart that no amount of hockey conditioning could prepare me for.

“Angel,” I murmur, brushing her hair back from her face. “Time to wake up.”

She makes this adorable grumbling sound and burrows deeper into the pillow.

“I brought coffee,” I tempt her, watching her nose twitch at the smell. “Extra hot, just the way you like it.”

One eye cracks open. “Oat milk?”

“What kind of amateur do you think I am?” I lean down to kiss her temple. “Also got a few fancy croissants. And the smoothie you love. Gotta get you in the zone for class.”

“Now you’re talking.” She grins, finally sitting up. The sight of her all sleep-rumpled, dark hair a mess, makes me want to forget about coffee and croissants entirely. “Did you get one for yourself? It’sa nutrient-dense superfood blend. It will be amazing for your workout.”

“I’m sure the team nutritionist will approve,” I say,pointing at my cup. “It’s eight already. You’ve got anatomy at nine.”

She takes a long sip of her complicated coffee, her eyes closing in bliss. “My hero.” Then she opens them again, studying me. “You went out. In public. To get me breakfast.”

“I did.”

“Someone could have seen you.”

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