Page 9 of Stuck with my Guarded MVP
"You said that on national TV. The superstition ship has sailed."
He gave me a look, then pulled me into a hug.
"You know I wish you had someone in your life," he said, voice low near my ear. "But I honestly don’t know what I’d do without you."
I smiled. But my eyes caught the photo of him and Brooke on the beach.
Yeah. It would be nice to have what you have.
I stepped back, tightened my ponytail, and asked, "You want coffee?"
He shook his head no and reached over to ruffled my hair.
I smacked his arm. "You’re not allowed to do that anymore."
"You’re still the same kid who made her own flashcards in fourth grade."
"And laminated them," I said. "Let’s not leave that part out."
He stepped into the kitchen, running a hand along the edge of the island.
“The girls are going to love this kitchen.”
I smiled.
That’s precisely what I had said to Liam when we were standing so close in his kitchen I could smell his cologne.
My stomach did a weird little dip.
Did I eat anything today?
Nolan walked into the living room and plopped down on the couch. I sat on the chair next to him. Nolan leaned back, draping an arm over the cushion.
"Hey," Nolan said, "let’s go over the practice facility setup. We should make sure there’s a desk open for you if you want to work from there when you're here. A home office away from your own home office."
"Yeah, I figured I’d stay here with you until the girls finish school and Brooke brings them here. But yeah, I wouldn’t mind somewhere to plug in. Preferably where the Zoom background doesn’t include pink walls and rainbow art."
He pulled a folded schedule out of his jacket pocket and tossed it onto the counter. "Come by the arena this afternoon. I’ll introduce you to the facilities team."
Nolan tapped the schedule once, then gave me a half-smile. “See you around 4?” His jacket was on before I could nod, and in true Nolan fashion, he didn’t linger. Just a quiet exit and the soft click of the door behind him.
I pulled out my phone, opened the calendar app, and tapped in: Hockey Facility – 4:00 p.m. Then I set an alarm for 3:40, just in case I lost track of time, which I would.
I put the phone down and started unpacking the rest of the market haul. The peaches went into a bowl on the counter, tomatoes onto a dish towel to ripen. When the alarm buzzed, I wiped my hands, shut it off, grabbed my coat, and headed for the elevator.
The Sentinel Blades facility looked exactly like the kind of place where elite athletes were built—glass, steel, and precision. It smelled faintly of fresh paint and lemon floor cleaner. Digital signage looped stats and highlight clips near the lobby entrance, and the quiet hum of refrigeration units from the skate bays echoed somewhere down the hall.
I gave my name to the receptionist and added, "Nolan Bennett’s sister. He said I could stop by."
The receptionist smiled. "Coach Bennett’s in a meeting, but you can wait in his office. Down that hallway, third door on the left."
I thanked her and headed down the hall, phone in one hand, manila folder in the other. Inside Nolan’s office, I took in the clean lines and massive window overlooking the practice rink. A dry-erase board filled with lines, names, and arrows. Organized chaos.
I set the folder down and sat on the edge of the leather guest chair, legs crossed, fingers tapping once against my knee.
A minute later, the door opened.
"There she is," Nolan said, already pulling me into a quick, familiar hug. "Thought I heard efficiency coming down the hallway."
