Page 125 of Coach's Temptation

“I used to wear it,” Martha admits, her voice quieter now. Softer. She looks to Harold wistfully. "Didn't I? When you first asked me to marry you."

Harold nods as his thumb brushes over Martha's knuckles, and suddenly I'm seeing them as they must have been decades ago. Young. In love. Before life and expectations and disappointments piled up between them.

"You wore it every day," Harold says quietly.

Martha's shoulders drop, tension bleeding out.

I watch them, these two people who've spent years building walls between themselves, as something shifts. It's like watching ice crack in spring - slow at first, then all at once.

Martha pulls out the ring, holding it up to the light. It's vintage, delicate - the kind of thing that would look perfect on Natalie's hand. The diamond isn't large, but it catches the morning sun streaming through their kitchen window, throwing rainbow prisms across the worn tablecloth.

"Mother always said it was meant for Natalie," Martha says. "She knew, even then, that our girl was special."

Harold clears his throat. "You'll need to get it sized. Natalie's fingers are dainty and small."

It takes me a second to realize what he's saying. What they're offering.

I look at the ring in Martha's palm, then at my own box still sitting on the table. Two rings. Two generations of love stories.

"Are you sure?" I ask.

Martha's chin lifts. "Just... promise me something?"

I wait, watching as she struggles to find the words.

"Don't let the important things slip away," she finally says, her eyes meeting Harold's again. "Not like we did."

I take the ring and give a curt nod as I stand to leave. "I won't. And thank you. She’s going to love it.”

***

The jet lifts off the airstrip, engines roaring as we break through the clouds, Vegas bound.

Lucy’s got a tablet in her lap, scrolling throughVegas Must-Do’swith the intensity of a woman planning a full-blown military operation.

“I’m just saying,” she announces to Connor, who's playing on his phone beside her. “If we don’t go to the rooftop ice bar, we’re doing Vegas wrong.”

Logan, already shirtless for no reason, sticks his head over her seat. “Or hear me out… we do Vegasright,and hit the pool deck instead.”

From across the aisle, Blake grunts, half-asleep in full compression gear like an aging gladiator prepping for battle. Sophia is curled up beside him, eyes glued to her Kindle, nursing a cocktail.

I stretch out in my first-class seat, unable to take my eyes off Natalie.

The memory of her parents giving me that ring burns in my pocket.

Twenty years I’ve been chasing hockey dreams, and now? All I can think about is getting this damn series over with so I can start my real life.

With her.

Sitting beside me, she’s drowning in my team hoodie, looking way too pleased with herself.

I smirk and toss a Summit Café latte onto her lap.

She blinks. “Is this—”

“I had Clara deliver it to the airport before we left,” I cut in, watching as she wraps her hands around it, cradling it like a damn treasure. "I know I kept you a bit longer at home, so thought I'd better make it up to you."

Her lips part, utterly awed, and something inside me clenches.

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