Page 95 of Coach's Temptation

"Jordan and the other assistants can handle it. You deserve this." I flag down our driver. "Plus, Mom's already excited to have you there. Please, enjoy the night and I'll gladly have you back in the box for Game Two."

Reluctantly, Natalie agrees and once we arrive at the arena, we split up - me to the locker room, her to medical.

An hour later, I spot her slipping into the corporate box, settling between my parents. Mom immediately loops her arm through Natalie's, pointing out something on the ice while Dad leans in to explain a play formation.

The sight makes my heart skip a beat.

This is what I want. Not just for tonight, but for every game. Natalie with my family, supporting me, belonging here.

She catches my eye and excuses herself, meeting me in the tunnel.

"Blake's good to go. He is on some painkillers, but he's showing signs of getting that full range of motion back." Her hands smooth my tie. "Now go make Boston cry."

I glance around - no cameras, no staff - before pulling her close for a quick kiss and another slap on her ass… you know, for luck.

"Watch me win, baby."

"Always do, Coach."

With the taste of her on my lips, the game flows exactly as planned.

Blake's shoulder holds up perfectly thanks to Natalie's work. Connor stands on his head in goal. By the third period, we're up 4-1, and I can't help stealing glances at the box where Natalie's cheering with my parents.

One game closer to the Cup.

One step closer to everything I've worked for.

But watching Natalie celebrate each goal with my family, I realize the Cup isn't the only prize I'm chasing anymore.

There's something bigger at stake…

Now I just need to work out exactly what that might be.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Natalie

The days since that first game in Boston have passed in a blur of roaring crowds, flashing cameras, and sleepless nights nursing aches and injuries.

We’ve barely had time to breathe, let alone reflect on what we've accomplished.

Winning the Boston series four games to one is surreal. The Icehawks look unstoppable at the moment, like every win is meant to be.

Blake’s shoulder held strong, thanks in part to me spending half my waking hours applying ice, heat, massage therapy, and whatever else was needed. Connor was like a man possessed in goal, and Hunter… Well, he coached like his life depended on it.

And now, here we are: Eastern Conference Champions, heading to the Stanley Cup Finals for the first time in Iron Ridge history.

My phone has exploded with messages. Friends, colleagues, half the town, even Hunter’s parents texting me constant encouragement.

My mom? Not a single message.

But for once, her silence doesn't sting as much as it used to. Maybe because, right here, among these people, I've finally found the belonging I've always wanted.

My thoughts drift away as gentle music and soft laughter fill the luxurious spa suite at the Four Seasons Hotel in Boston. Lucy hands me a sparkling flute of champagne, grinning as Sophia sinks deeper into her plush massage chair, letting out a satisfied sigh.

Sophia lifts her champagne, eyes twinkling playfully. "And cheers to the woman who's got our notoriously grumpy coach smiling for the first time ever."

I blush, laughing softly. "Hunter smiling during playoffs? Now that might be stretching the truth."

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