Page 8 of Coach's Temptation

Hunter Brody is the ultimate NHL top-tier coach. The kind of man who thrives on control, on pushing his players beyond their limits, on never letting emotions interfere with business.

And yet, behind closed doors? He’s handsy as hell.

He grips my hips like he owns them. Lays his rules out in that deep, no-room-for-argument voice and then breaks them himself every time we’re alone.

But that’s just it. This sneaking around?

Deep down, it’s not whoheis.

And watching Blake and Sophia, seeing how the media ripped them apart this season… maybe Hunter is right.

Maybe I do need to move on.

Maybe it’s time to stop waiting for a man who refuses to choose me back.That's exactly what got my parents into the situation they are. They chose convenience over love.

And I don't want that.

I take a long sip of my drink, forcing myself to focus on the game, snagging another handful of Eli's nachos at the same time. The cheese pulls in perfect strings, and the jalapeños hit just right. Just spicy enough to make my eyes water.

"These are insane." I lick sauce off my thumb.

Sophia nods and grabs a handful too.

The clock ticks down in the third period. Ten minutes. Five. Two. The tavern falls silent except for the crunch of chips and occasional curse words at the questionable commentary blaring from the big screen.

Chicago's defense tightens up, blocking shot after shot. They're playing for overtime, but Vancouver keep pushing for a winner.

Every set of eyes is on the TV. Except for Ryder's. He's shielding his eyes in the crook of Mia's shoulder.

"I can’t watch. Someone tell me when it’s over."

Mia pats him on the head like one of the shelter dogs at her clinic. "Ryder, you literally play in these games."

"Yeah, but I don’t have to watch myself screw up in real time!"

Thirty seconds.

The puck slides to Vancouver's Pettersson. He dekes past two defenders, crosses the blue line-

The entire bar holds its breath.

Shot-

Goal!

Final horn blares.

"Holy shit!" Connor's beer sloshes as he jumps up. "We're playing Vancouver!"

The tavern explodes. High fives crack through the air. Eli starts pouring victory shots like some kind of bartending wizard.

"Get your passports ready, boys!" Ryder bounces on his barstool like an overexcited puppy. His lipstick 'ICEHAWKS' smears across his forehead as beer splashes around us and he swipes his arm across it.

Blake grabs Connor in a headlock. "First round's on me!"

I can't help grinning as the team erupts around me. The energy is electric, infectious. Everyone's shouting playoff predictions and travel plans over each other.

And yet…

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