Page 94 of Defensive Desire

"I met Natalie." He shrugs, like it's that simple. "Suddenly, the idea of leaving Iron Ridge didn't seem so appealing."

He nods, looking around the locker room.

"This team, this town... it gets under your skin. I realized I'd rather build something lasting here than chase some flashy title elsewhere."

I understand what he's saying without him spelling it out. He's talking about more than just hockey.

"Sometimes the right choice isn't the one that looks best on paper," Coach says. "Sometimes it's about where you fit, where you can build something real."

The weight of his words settles between us. I think about Emma, about her café, about the life I've started imagining with her. The kind of life I never thought I wanted.

I absorb this, turning it over in my mind. "You think you made the right call?"

"Every damn day." He claps me on the shoulder as he turns to leave. "Just something to think about, Kane."

He leaves and I'm halfway to my truck when my phone buzzes in my pocket. Emma's name lights up the screen, and something in my chest loosens at the sight.

Quick! I need your help. If you were a hot chocolate topping, what would you be?

I can't help the smile that tugs at my mouth. Only Emma would send a message like this at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday.

Marshmallows, I text back.The big ones we had at the cabin.

Her response is immediate:Cocky much? I was thinking you would be cinnamon. Warm, spicy, and surprisingly sweet underneath it all.

You calling me sweet, Coffee Witch?

Only when you're not looking. How was practice?

I hesitate, thumb hovering over the screen. I should tell her about the trade talks. About all the teams interested in me. About how everything might change after the ever approaching trade deadline before the season kicks off.

Instead, I type:Fine. Heading your way now. Need anything?

Just you.

Two simple words that knock the air right out of my lungs.

I slide into my truck, tossing my gear in the back seat. The drive to Chapter & Grind takes exactly seven minutes from the arena. I know because I've timed it, counting the seconds until I can see her again like some pathetic teenager.

When did I become this guy? This soft, needy version of myself that I barely recognize?

The answer is simple: the moment Emma Carter looked at me like I was more than just the sum of my hits and fights. Like I mattered beyond what I could do on the ice.

The radio station fills my truck with noise as I pull out of the parking lot. Some local DJ chattering about the upcoming Arena Experience Day, about the Icehawks' community outreach program, about how Chapter & Grind is the frontrunner to win the arena café space.

Pride swells in my chest.

Emma's worked so hard for this. Poured everything into making her café something special, something that matters to the town.

And now she might get to expand, to grow her dream into something bigger.

While I might be forced to leave it all behind.

The irony isn't lost on me.

Just when Emma's setting down deeper roots in Iron Ridge hockey—the only constant in my life—that's exactly what might tear me away from her.

I shut off the radio, preferring silence to the reminder of what's at stake.

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