Page 122 of Defensive Desire

But here I am, standing behind this counter, wearing a custom apron that reads:

“I Like My Coffee Like My Hockey: Strong, Hot & A Little Bit Aggressive.”

Logan had it made for me especially for tonight. Opening night of the new season.

The Nest & Grind is buzzing with Opening Night energy as hockey fans flock the arena. The final touches to the renovations were completed yesterday, with Logan's help of course.

The walls are lined with exposed brick and warm wood paneling, dotted with team memorabilia, vintage hockey posters, and literary quotes that were stuck on the wall by the kids who've swarmed the space ever since I opened the doors.

A stack of “Opening Night Mochas” steams beside me. A special blend, just for today. Dark roast, maple-syrup drizzle, and a chocolate puck cookie balanced on top like a victory hat trick.

I smile as I glance at the perfect shelves Logan has put up, all lined with boxes upon boxes of my own coffee blends, individually packed and ready for customers to purchase and take home.

“Order for Ryder!” I call, waving a drink in the air. “One hot Mocha for Mia, extra foam, extra cinnamon, extra charm.”

Ryder jogs over in full game-day gear, pads creaking, Icehawks jersey half-tucked, eyeing the coffee like it might bite.

“This foam’s looking a little aggressive, Em. Mia likes it smooth." He grins as I raise an eyebrow at him. “What? I just want it to be perfect for her.”

I wink as I hand it over.

“Itisperfect. Trust me. It's slightly inflated, just like your ego. But hey, Mia still finds that perfectly acceptable, doesn't she?”

He mock-gasps and jogs off, shouting back, “Fine. But I’m telling Mia you said that!”

Behind me, chaos reigns supreme in the form of Lucy and Ethan, who have appointed themselves “Manager” and “Manager’s Manager,” respectively.

They've been taste-testing the pastry display since 9 a.m. and are currently arguing about the proper definition of a croissant.

I survey the pastries with a critical eye. The cinnamon rolls with their perfect swirls, the scones dotted with fresh berries, the croissants with their honeycomb interior that took me seventeen attempts to perfect.

Clara would be proud, I think.

I've spent countless late nights in Chapter & Grind's kitchen this week, flour in my hair and determination in my heart,knowing that with Summit Café gone, I'm the only coffee shop and bakery in town now.

And I won't mess it up.

“I’m just saying,” Ethan says around a mouthful of almond danish. "If it doesn’t crackle like a scroll, is it even worth eating?”

Lucy scoffs. “You think everything’s supposed to sound like a book. This is acafé, not a medieval library.”

I tune them out, sliding a freshly pulled espresso across to a fan wearing a jersey withKANE 14on the back.

God, this. This is everything. The crowd. The laughter. The smell of maple and coffee and freshly cleaned ice drifting in through the glass wall.

I glance out toward the rink, where fans are still pouring in through the main gate. The lights over the ice shimmer, bouncing off the newly painted logo at center. The atmosphere tonight is insane.

I think I'm going to enjoy working here every gameday.

And suddenly it hits me… I’m not waiting anymore.

I’mhere. Thisishappening.

I’m no longer hoping for the dream.

I’m living it.

“Hey you.” A voice cuts through the happy din.

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