Page 112 of Coach's Temptation

His frown deepens. "Natalie, are you—"

"Now."

He turns to Greg, his entire posture shifting. From the coach discussing career-defining decisions to the man who just realized his girlfriend is seconds away from unraveling.

The silence in the car is suffocating. I don’t say a word. I don’t look at him.

I just stare out the window as he pulls onto the road, the headlights cutting through the inky blackness of the mountain drive. It’s always so beautiful up here at night. The kind of quiet that usually feels peaceful, safe.

Tonight?

It feels like I’m trapped in a moving car with a storm that hasn’t hit yet.

The Ferrari's engine purrs beneath us as we wind up the mountain road, but I barely hear it. The garage door closes behind us and before Hunter can go anywhere, I plant myself in front of him.

"How long have you known?"

His brow furrows. "Known what?"

The tears I've been holding back start to burn. "That you were never going to stay."

Hunter's expression shifts from confusion to shock. "Natalie… I never said I wasn't staying."

"You never said you were, either."

My voice cracks on the last word and something changes in his face. Like he's finally seeing me for the first time tonight.

The fear.

The echoes of every time I watched my mother settle for less. Every time she convinced herself that good enough was all she could hope for.

My father's voice echoes in my head - his constant refrain about "practical choices" and "financial security." How many times did I watch him cave to my mother's demands just to keep the peace?

Year after year, I watched their love shrink smaller and smaller, retreating further into the nothingness that became their entire exitance.

And now, staring at Hunter's neutral expression, I see the same pattern starting.

The careful deflection. The way he won't quite meet my eyes. The non-answers that leave just enough room for hope while in reality, the man I've fallen in love with just slips further away.

I plant my feet more firmly, squaring my shoulders as I face Hunter.

I won't back down. Not this time. Not ever.

"I need the truth," I say, my voice steadier than I feel. "All of it. Right now."

I refuse to become that.

Hunter runs a hand through his hair, frustration radiating off him in waves. "Nat, can we not do this right now? I have a fucking Stanley Cup game to win tomorrow."

The words hit like a slap. Everything inside me goes cold.

There it is.

The truth I've been trying so hard not to see.

I'm just another distraction. Another obstacle between him and greatness.

I nod slowly, taking a step back. The garage suddenly feels massive, the space between us stretching into miles.

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