Page 45 of Hooked On Them

The door to Coach Lovell’s office swung open before I could respond, and there he stood, all six-foot-whatever of him, eyebrows raised at finding us lurking outside his door.

“Hastings. Collins.” Coach Lovell’s gaze darted between us. “You two going to come in, or are you going to admire the paint job on my door all day?”

“We, uh…” I started, but my throat closed up like I was choking on the lie before I even told it.

Miles smoothly stepped in. “We wanted to talk to you about something, Coach. Got a minute?”

Lovell checked his watch. “You’ve got exactly ten. This better be good.”

He stepped back, gesturing for us to enter his lair—er, office. Miles placed his hand at the small of my back again, guiding me in with a confidence I desperately wished I could borrow.

Coach’s office displayed a modest collection of trophies and framed photos of past teams. Behind his desk hung a massive whiteboard covered in play diagrams, player stats, and a detailed breakdown of every opposing team’s weaknesses.

I perched on the edge of a chair like it might bite me, while Miles sat next to me looking utterly at ease. Coach Lovell lowered himself into his chair, folded his hands on the desk, and fixed us with his patented “cut the bullshit” stare.

Coach Lovell rubbed his chin. “So? Is this where you tell me you’re both quitting to start your ice dancing career?”

I would have laughed my ass off at that if I hadn’t been scared shitless. I opened my mouth, but what came out was a noise somewhere between a squeak and a cough. Great. Very authoritative and confident.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak. “We wanted to discuss a personal matter that might have professional implications.”

Coach’s eyebrows inched higher.

Miles reached over and took my hand, threading his fingers through mine. “What Nora is trying to say is that we’re together.”

There it was. No going back now. The lie was out, and I resisted the urge to squirm in my seat.

Coach Lovell’s face remained perfectly neutral, which was somehow worse than if he’d started yelling. He looked between us, gaze calculating, before settling back on Miles.

“Together,” he repeated, testing the word like he wasn’t sure it meant what Miles thought it meant.

“Yes.” My voice was stronger now that the initial shock of hearing it said aloud had passed. “We’re in a relationship.”

“Since when?” He didn’t need to elaborate on what he really meant. It was a completely different issue entirely if a relationship started after I was hired.

Miles brought our connected hands to his lips, kissing the back of my hand with such natural ease that, for a moment, I almost believed our own lie. “May of last year. We didn’t disclose before now because it wasn’t serious, but we wanted to be upfront about it now, given the circumstances.” Miles spoke with such confidence that it was almost alarming.

Coach’s eyes narrowed fractionally. “And these circumstances are...?”

My free hand instinctively moved toward my stomach before I caught myself and redirected it to fidget with my jacket zipper instead. “We’re getting more serious, and with how small the hockey world is, we thought it would be better to tell you directly rather than have you hear it through the grapevine.”

Miles’s thumb stroked the back of my hand in what I assumed was meant to be a reassuring gesture. Instead, it sent a completely inappropriate tingle up my arm.

“We met years ago through my parents. Nora used to train at the same rink they coached at sometimes.” Miles looked over and smiled at me like I’d hung the moon. Instead of playing hockey, this man needed to be an actor.

I nodded, latching onto this kernel of truth within our web of lies. “We ran into each other at a bar after a game last season, and one thing led to another.”

Coach Lovell leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled. His expression remained frustratingly unreadable. “So you’re telling me that this relationship predates Nora’s employment with the team?”

“Yes, sir,” Miles and I both answered at the same time.

“Hmm.” Coach’s eyes flickered to our joined hands, then back to our faces. “And you’re just now deciding to mention this because...?”

I swallowed hard. “Well, sir, see… I’m pregnant.” I hadn’t planned on telling him today, but it was going to eventually affect my ability to skate.

Coach Lovell’s silence stretched long enough that I could hear the blood rushing in my ears. He didn’t look convinced as he stared at me, then at Miles.

My palm was sweating in Miles’s grip, but he didn’t let go; he just gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “I love her, sir.”

---