Page 109 of Captain's Claim

And I let them.

Not anymore.

The door chimes for the millionth time today, but this time, my heart stops when I look up.

There she is.

Sophia freezes in the doorway. The confusion in her eyes shifts to disbelief, then to something between panic and fury as she scans the packed tavern.

I probably should have given her some warning.

But she would've tried to talk me out of it.

Or worse, not come at all.

Every table is filled. It looks like I've cornered here into some kind of media ambush. This is everything she doesn't need right now, everything she's trying to hide from.

I get that. I've spent my whole damn life like that.

But if I can just get to the point, get to the interview, she'll see.

She'll see it's all in the name ofus.

Connor and Logan occupy their usual corner booth, Ryder perched on a chair he's pulled up beside them. Clara from Summit waves from her spot near the front, gesturing to a steaming cup of coffee she's saved for Sophia.

The whole damn town showed up. I knew they would.

Except the suits.

No sign of Big Mike or Greg anywhere, which is exactly how I planned it.

The corporate vultures won't get their claws into this. Won't twist it into another PR stunt or sponsorship opportunity.

This is about setting things right, on our terms.Myterms.

Connor raises his beer in a silent toast while Logan and Ryder try, and fail, to look casual. They've got my back, same as always. Even Coach Brody showed up, though he's trying to blend into the shadows.

I follow his eyes, and they're directed at Natalie and Mia at the bar, both of who are giving me encouraging thumbs up.

The youth program families fill half the tables - not because I asked them to come, but because they heard what happened to Sophia and showed up on their own.

That's Iron Ridge for you. We protect our own.

Clara spots Sophia and jumps up, handing over the coffee - probably spiked with something stronger, knowing Clara - and drags her down to the spare seat where I want my girl.

This is it. Everything is set.

No fancy cameras, no corporate logos, no carefully crafted PR statements. Just us, our people, and the truth.

This is how it should be. How it always should have been.

Camera crews adjust their equipment. Reporters tap their pens against notepads.

Sophia's eyes finally find mine from her seat. Her expression screamsWhat the actual fuck did you do?

I can't help the smirk that tugs at my lips. She's still so fucking gorgeous when she's mad.

Eli clears his throat beside me, straightening his collar as he prepares to take the makeshift stage we've created near the dartboard. The same spot where he used to talk me through endless plays when I was too young to actually drink in his bar.

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