Page 85 of Coach's Temptation

My stomach drops straight through the floor of the plane.

His parents?

Oh, fuck.

Chapter Twenty-One

Hunter

The week following our victory over Vancouver is supposed to be restful, but it ends up feeling more like a whirlwind.

Iron Ridge had practically exploded into celebration the moment we touched down, and I’d barely managed a single day at home without someone banging on my door or calling me up to relive the big moments of the sweep.

Not that I’d minded.

The town’s excitement had been contagious, and seeing Iron Ridge decked out in Icehawks green, banners lining Main Street, and kids running around with homemade championship signs… it all feels like some kind of surreal dream.

But the best part of it all?

Natalie.

She's stayed at my place every night since we returned. Each moment with her feels more natural, more right than anything I've ever known before.

We’ve cooked meals together, drank wine by the fireplace, and spent endless hours wrapped up in each other beneath tangled sheets, losing track of time before we had to rush back to Icehawk HQ to prepare for Boston.

It's been blissful, addictive, and yeah, maybe I'm becoming slightly fucking obsessed.

But I don’t care.

Every morning, watching her walk around my house wearing nothing but one of my oversized Icehawks t-shirts, having to physically stop myself from dragging her straight back to bed and spending the rest of the day exploring every inch of her body… Fuck. I'm sure we’ve broken a few personal records this week alone.

But today, as the door of the planes opens into the fresh air of my hometown, reality has finally caught up.

We’re here in Boston for the Eastern Conference finals, just one step away from the Stanley Cup itself. The team is in prime condition—Blake’s shoulder has improved dramatically thanks to Natalie’s constant attention, and the rookies are more fired up than ever, practically buzzing through every training session. The stakes have never felt higher.

But Boston isn’t just another series.

This is my hometown, the place where I learned to skate, where I first fell in love with the game.

In a way, this might mean ever more than sweeping Vancouver aside.

By the time the team are settled at the hotel, I've manage to buy myself and Natalie a few hours of 'alone time'.

I'd rather be doing unspeakable things to her back at the hotel, but instead, here we are at my childhood home, where my mom probably still has my embarrassing hockey-themed bedsheets from when I was twelve displayed like some sort of shrine to my awkward years.

The moment our Uber pulls into the driveway, nostalgia hits me like a puck to the chest.

The old colonial-style house, its pale blue siding and white shutters gleaming in the early-afternoon sun, stands as proudly as ever, surrounded by Mom’s meticulously cared-for garden. Tulips and daffodils bloom vibrantly, a splash of yellow and red that sends a wave of childhood memories rushing back.

I squeeze Natalie’s hand, glancing at her beside me in the passenger seat. “Welcome to the Brody family circus.”

She laughs softly, her eyes shining with excitement. “I can't wait.”

Before we even reach the porch, the front door bursts open and my mom charges down the steps, her short blonde hair bouncing wildly, her arms flung open wide.

She’s barely five-foot-two, but she moves like an unstoppable force of nature.

“My boy! My boy’s home!” Mom squeals, launching herself straight into my chest.

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