Page 111 of Coach's Temptation

The question that burns in my throat. When they come calling, am I enough to make him stay?

Shit. I need air.

Lucy's still talking about Connor's latest attempt to ask her out, but I can barely focus on her words. The walls of Ridgeview feel like they're closing in, the Vegas players' presence a constant reminder of everything I've been trying to ignore.

"I'll be right back," I mumble, sliding out of the booth.

The cool night air hits my face as I step outside, and I take a deep breath. The string lights above the tavern's entrance twinkle against the darkness, and I fall back against the freezing cold brick wall.

That's when I hear their voices.

Around the corner, in the small alcove where Eli keeps the recycling bins, three figures stand in hushed conversation.

Hunter's broad shoulders are unmistakable, even in shadow. Greg's suit gleams under the security light, and Wes's Vegas Knights jacket catches the dim glow.

"You knew this was coming, kid. The moment you got the Icehawks to the Finals, they started calling." Wes's voice carries that same smooth confidence from earlier. "Who would've thought it would be me and you, kid? You know how this works… winner of the cup takes Team USA."

My pulse skitters to a stop.

Greg shifts his weight. "Look, Hunter. We've kept them off your back this long, but after the Finals, there’s no more stalling. They want their head coach ready for the Olympics. You or Wes. No more delays.”

Silence. Thick. Crushing.

My back digs into the wall as I hold still, not breathing, waiting for Hunter to shut this down. To laugh in their faces. To say,No. I’m not going anywhere.

Instead, his voice comes quiet.

"Like I've said all along, we'll talk after the Finals." Hunter's voice is low, measured.

We'll talk?! What the hell does that even mean?

My stomach drops. The ground beneath my feet suddenly feels unstable.

That’s not a no.

I don’t even realize I’ve fisted my hands into my jacket.

All this time, I told myself his silence meant he’d already made his choice. That every time he dodged the Team USA question, it was because he knew… because he’d chosenthis, chosenme.

But this...

This isn't the voice of a man who’s already chosen Iron Ridge.

This is the voice of a man still weighing his options. A man with one foot out the door.

And suddenly, I can’t breathe.

I need to get out of here.

Before I can talk myself out of it, my feet are already moving.

Straight into the lion’s den.

The second I round the corner, three heads turn. Hunter, Wes, and Greg, their conversation snapping shut like a steel trap. Hunter’s brows pull together the moment he sees me, like he knows. Like he fucking knows I heard everything.

Wes, on the other hand, has the nerve to smirk. I don’t give him the satisfaction of reacting. Instead, I look straight at Hunter.

"I want to go home."

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