Page 95 of Captain's Claim

Just like the coffee he brings me every morning, the way he shields me from reporters, how he remembers exactly how I take my chamomile tea right before I go to sleep of a night.

My heart pounds as Natalie and Mia try, and fail, to plug the seat belts in the buckle from behind us.

Oh god. Iamin love with Blake Maddox.

I know I've already told him I do, but after today, after being in that meeting and facing the jeopardy of the choices I've made to put us in the spotlight… to shield Blake and protect what means so much to him.

I am so completely, terrifyingly in love with him that the thought of losing him steals my breath.

And maybe that's all that matters?

I slide into the front seat, reaching across the console to grip Blake's leg, giving it a tight squeeze and flashing him a smile.

"Drive, Captain."

Chapter Twenty-Two

Blake

Ilean against the boards, watching my kids battle it out on the outdoor rink. The Iron Ridge clock tower looms behind them, its face glowing gold against the darkening winter sky.

Steam rises from the players' helmets as they chase the puck across the ice, skating like they have since the first damn minute of the match.

The opposing team in their red jerseys has put up a good fight, but our green and gray colors dominate the ice.

Mikey, our smallest defenseman, throws a hip check that would make Connor proud. The crowd of parents gathered around the boards cheer, their applause mixing with the distant toll of the clock tower marking the hour.

Snow starts falling, fat flakes drifting down to dust the ice. The lights strung around the outdoor rink flicker on, a subtle light splashing over the playing surface.

It's pure hockey, this youth team stuff.

The kind that made me fall in love with the game. No fancy scoreboards or luxury boxes, just kids playing their hearts out under an open sky.

"Two minutes left!" I call out, tapping the boards with my stick.

I can see the determination on their faces. These moments matter more than any NHL game – watching these kids find their confidence, their strength, their love for the game.

Pride swells in my chest as Mikey intercepts a pass and rockets down the ice. The kid's got fire in his veins, just like I did at his age. His mom works doubles at the diner to keep him in gear, but you'd never know it from the way he plays – head high, shoulders back, pure determination.

"Nice hustle, Mikey!" My voice carries across the ice as he sets up Roger Jenkins for a perfect shot.

Roger's slapshot echoes through the rink like thunder. The puck finds the back of the net, and the small crowd of parents erupts. His mom couldn't make it today – another setback in her rehab recovery – but Roger's playing like a champion anyway.

Lei Tran zips past me, his skates barely touching the ice. Mrs. Tran clutches her hands together in the stands, praying just like she always does, surrounded by tupperware containers of her famous chocolate chip cookies.

She may not understand all the rules of this weird foreign game, but she understands her son's smile when he's on the ice.

My boys are up 3-0 with five minutes left. The kids are crushing it, playing like a real team. No showboating, no selfish plays.

Just pure hockey the way it should be.

I catch movement by the entrance and spot Sophia slipping in just like she promised she would after finishing up at the office. The flash of a camera draws my attention and I feel my fists squeeze together.

Some national reporter snapping photos of her like they have been of me all afternoon. At least it's just me and her, not the kids. So far. That was Sophia's promise, and she's kept it. Keep the spotlight on the captain, let the program stay pure.

Looking at my team – my kids – I realize I was wrong to fight her on this. Her plan protected exactly what matters most, and it's letting them continue to shine on the ice.

Mikey scores again, and the rink erupts. I pump my fist, letting out a whoop that makes Sophia laugh as she approaches me from behind.

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