Page 88 of Captain's Claim

"He threw a jersey at me. Told me to get up. Told me the Icehawks needed me." Another bitter laugh escapes and I shake my head. "The jersey was too big. I didn't care. The biggest name in Icehawks history was standing there and telling me to pick myself up. So I put it on."

"That's when the youth program started, wasn't it?" Sophia asks softly.

I nod, my fingers flexing against the bedspread. "Not officially. But yeah. That was the moment it all started. That was also the moment I knew I wanted to be that guy for someone else when I grew up. That I was going to be like Eli, not like my father."

"Blake..." Sophia's hand covers mine.

"And Sophia, that's why I hate the media." I look into her eyes, watching the tear slide down her cheek, wishing I had the strength right now to lift my hand and wipe it away. "I'm sorry. I should have been more up front with you."

"Blake, you have nothing to apologize for.Nothing."

"I don't want their pity. The press, the journalists. I don't want them turning me into some sob story."

"If I knew... I never would've pushed you into that interview."

I shake my head. "I'd do it all again."

"What?"

I squeeze her hand. "Because you did it for the right reasons, Sophia. You didn't throw me to the media. You made me the shield. You put the attention on me, so they'd leave the kids alone. And, sweetheart..." My voice softens. "That means more than any birthday present I've ever gotten."

And in that second, Iknowshe gets it.

Why I fight for the program.

Why I protect it from the board, the media, anyone who doesn’t understand what it means.

Why I almost lostherover it.

Sophia's hand is warm against mine, her thumb gently moving over my skin. I don’t know how to handle this. Any of it.

The birthday surprise. The way she looks at me. Like I’m someone worth celebrating.

I should say something, should find the words to tell her what this means to me. Maybe if I did that with my father he wouldn't have left.

But I can’t.

My throat feels tight, my chest too full of emotions I don’t know how to process.

Then, gently, she lifts a hand to my face, her fingers grazing my jaw as she tilts my chin toward her. My breath stills as her lips press to mine.

Soft, slow, not pushing for more, just being righthere.

I surrender to her kiss, drinking in the warmth she's offering like a man dying of thirst. My hands itch to pull her closer, to claim more, but I'm frozen. Caught between wanting everything and having no fucking clue what to do with any of it.

Then my girl pulls back, her lips curve into that familiar smile. “Well, Blake Maddox, you’re a tough nut to crack, but I think I finally got you to admit I’m your favorite person now.”

A laugh escapes as I shake my head. "Jesus Christ."

"Admit it."

"Cocky as ever, aren't you?"

She grins. “Wouldn’t want you to get used to me being soft, Captain.”

Her fingers skim down my chest, trailing over the muscles still tense from tonight’s game. Fuck, that feels like forever ago now.

My pulse kicks up as she traces the ridges of my abs, her touch featherlight but focused, like she’s already got something planned.

---