Page 14

Chapter Fourteen

Hunter

I t’s been three days since the incident. Three days since I had her against that counter, tasting her, devouring her, breaking every rule we’d set in place. Three days since Greg walked in, saw everything , and left without a word.

And that’s the part that’s been fucking with me the most.

Greg. Hasn’t. Said. Anything.

No awkward looks. No knowing smirks. No jokes at my expense.

Nothing.

Which means either he was too drunk to remember, because let's face it, that was one hell of a celebration. Or, he’s keeping that ace up his sleeve, just waiting to drop the hammer at the worst possible moment.

I exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose as I lean back in my chair.

My desk is a disaster. Game film, scouting reports, empty coffee cups stacked like a damn art installation.

Winning Game Two against Vancouver on home ice should’ve felt satisfying. We're 2-0 up in the series, but all it’s done is give me more to obsess over. More ways to get better. More ways to push harder.

More ways to distract myself from the one thing I really want.

Like the fact that she’s still living in my house.

Three days of brushing past her in the hall. Three days of pretending I don’t notice the way she hums under her breath while making coffee in my kitchen.

And this morning? This morning I walked into my own damn living room to find her doing downward-fucking-dog in a pair of tiny pink shorts.

Remind me... Why the hell did I make those rules?!

Oh, that’s right. Because I thought I had self-control. Thought I could survive a few weeks with her under my roof without doing something stupid.

Idiot.

I rub a hand over my jaw and pick up a stack of Natalie’s injury reports from yesterday's game. Neat. Thorough. Annoyingly good.

She has no idea that I’m spending a small fortune fixing up the place she’ll be moving back into. Whenever the hell that is.

Which is great. Fantastic, actually . Because once she’s gone, I won’t have to walk around my own damn house supporting a half-chub every time she breathes.

I flip through the pages, scanning the notes. Detailed assessments, precise recovery timelines. Every player accounted for, down to the smallest bruise. It’s all there, exactly how it should be.

Then I see it.

A tiny, ridiculous detail that makes my chest go tight.

She dots her i’s with little hearts.

Jesus Christ.

A small smile tugs at my lips before I can stop it. She’s too good at this. Too good at keeping me together. Too good at getting in my head when she’s not even here.

Except—

She is here.

The air shifts the second she appears drifting past my doorway.

Tight, black yoga pants hug every inch of her, clinging to her gloriously round ass. The fabric stretches over the curve of her thighs, dipping into that dangerous little waistband that rides just low enough to tease.

Her hips sway as she moves, smooth and effortless, and that ass—Jesus Christ, that ass—wobbles in a way that has me gripping the desk hard.

Heat slams into my spine, my cock twitching against my zipper.

Why the hell is she still here?

And why the fuck do those pants exist?

Enough is enough.

I step into the hall, arms crossed. "What the hell are you still doing here?"

Natalie halts mid-step, one brow lifting as she slowly turns toward me. "Oh, hello to you too, sunshine ."

The overhead lights catch on the wisps of hair that have slipped free from her ponytail. She looks fresh, flushed… fucking perfect.

And those yoga pants—God help me—those yoga pants are the devil’s work, I swear to God.

I gesture vaguely at her entire being. "Are you even working? Or just walking around distracting people?"

She blinks up at me, all wide-eyed innocence with a bat of those dark, long lashes.

"I was finishing up some reports." Her lips twitch like she’s barely holding back a grin. "But if you think I’m distracting, that sounds like a you problem."

I grit my teeth.

We were kissing three nights ago. Her body was pressed against mine, her tongue tangled with mine. Her hand was on my cock for Christ's sake!

But ever since Greg-fucking-McSmugFace walked in, we’ve been pretending it never fucking happened.

And I’m sick of it.

A me problem?

Fine. She wants to play? Let’s play.

"If you’re still here, you need to come with me," I say, pushing off the doorframe.

She folds her arms, weight shifting to one hip. "I do?"

"Yeah. I need to show you something."

Skepticism flickers in her eyes. "I swear to God, Brody, if this is some dumb metaphor about teamwork—"

I smirk, already turning down the hallway. "Just shut that pretty mouth of yours and follow me."

She huffs, but I hear the soft patter of her sneakers as she trails after me.

Natalie follows me up the narrow back stairwell, her footsteps light against the metal as we climb higher. The air shifts as we push through the final door, crisp and sharp with the scent of winter.

Then, with the last final steps up onto the rooftop clearing the sky above us, I see it.

The view.

Endless sky stretches, a perfect sweep of midnight blue, studded with stars so bright they look close enough to touch. Below, Iron Ridge sprawls in a sea of golden lights, the streets winding through the snow-covered town like veins of molten amber.

The arena sits beneath us, silent and powerful, its rooftop slick with a light dusting of frost that shimmers under the glow of the town. It’s cold, the kind of crisp air that bites at your skin and makes your breath come out in soft clouds.

Natalie steps onto the rooftop, wide-eyed and cold flushed cheeks — all red, beautiful and fucking perfect.

“Holy shit.”

A slow, satisfied smile tugs at my lips.

This is my world. My escape. And I’d trade every inch of it just to see that look in her eyes again.

“Yeah.”

We settle onto the rooftop, the cold breeze harsh but the view making up for it. The lights of Iron Ridge glow faintly in the distance, and above us, the stars stretch on forever.

"I come up here sometimes when it all gets too much." I move over to my hidden stash of blankets and pull them out. "It's peaceful. Silent. A reminder that some things are bigger than the game."

I toss the dark green Icehawks blanket at her, watching as she wraps it around her shoulders with a grateful sigh.

"It's stunning. I’ve lived here my whole life, but I’ve never seen Iron Ridge like this, Hunter. I didn't even know we could get up here."

"We're probably not supposed to be up here." I adjust the blanket around her shoulders, fingers lingering a moment too long.

"Coach Brody breaking rules? I'm shocked."

Her eyes sparkle with mischief.

"Says the woman who ambushed me in the CEO's kitchen."

"That was different." She snuggles deeper into the blanket, and damn if the sight doesn't do things to me.

"Different how?"

"Very important physical therapy... stuff."

I arch an eyebrow. "Physical therapy stuff?"

"I was checking your… reflexes." Her smile turns wicked. "And just so you know… they seemed fine to me."

"Jesus, Hayes." I scrub a hand over my face, fighting back a laugh. "You're going to be the death of my career."

"At least you'll die happy."

She grins, pulling her blanket tighter, and I take the moment to make my move.

I stand, stepping over to the metal vent by the far ledge. With a firm tug, I pop it open and reach inside.

Natalie watches, brows furrowing. "What are you—"

I pull out a thermos.

Her mouth parts. "You hid hot chocolate up here?"

I pour a cup and hand it to her, smirking. "Like I said, I plan ahead."

I don't tell her as much, but I'd stashed the thermos up here earlier, knowing I'd need an escape after today. Between Logan's worsening injury in Game Two and Vancouver's increasing aggression on the ice, my head's been a mess of plays and contingency plans to keep the series in our favor.

But watching Natalie's face light up at the hot chocolate makes all that fade away.

She takes the cup, blinking between me and the thermos like she’s reevaluating her entire opinion of me.

Then she bursts out laughing.

"Jesus Christ, Hunter. This is the most romantic thing anyone's ever done for me."

I take a sip of my own drink, side-eyeing her. "That’s… deeply concerning."

She hums, warm cup cradled in her hands. "I’m a simple woman. Give me a warm drink, a soft blanket, and a view like this, and I might just—" She catches herself, her lips pressing together as if she’s stopping the words before they can escape.

My stomach tightens.

Might just what?

Natalie falls silent and pulls the blanket tighter around her shoulders, cradling her mug of hot chocolate between both hands. The wind brushes her dark hair across her face, and she tucks it behind her ear, eyes fixed on the endless stretch of sky.

I shift so I'm down beside her, moving closer under the blanket. The excuse is warmth, but the reality? I just want to be near her.

“This really is the best view in Iron Ridge,” she murmurs, voice softer than I’m used to.

I nod toward the streets below. “See that building? The one with the shitty balcony railing and the busted front steps?”

Natalie squints, following my gaze, then groans and rolls her eyes. “Oh, shut up. Way to ruin the romance, Brody.”

I smirk. “That’s your building.”

She exhales sharply, shoulders sagging. “Yep. Still on the contractor’s waitlist.”

She sighs, tipping her head back against the rooftop.

“At this rate, I’ll be leaving my shit laying around your house until Christmas.”

I take a slow sip of my drink and think about Mike the Contractor's message earlier today. Work has started and he says they're making good progress. Turns out, removing soggy dry wall isn't as difficult as regular dry wall.

"Have you stopped by recently?"

Her brows furrow as she turns to me. “No. Why would I?”

I shrug, casual. Too casual. “I dunno. Just to see.”

I just lift the mug to my lips and let her stew on it.

For a second, I think she’s going to press me, but then she lets it go, exhaling as her gaze drifts back to the stars.

“Ahhh… I used to do this all the time when I was little,” she says quietly. “Stargazing.”

I glance over. “Yeah?”

She nods. “My grandmother used to take me out into the mountains, just the two of us. We’d find the darkest, quietest spot, bundle up in sleeping bags, and stare at the sky for hours.” She smiles at the memory. “We never had a real plan. She just knew I liked to be anywhere that wasn’t home.”

"Why didn't you like being home?" I ask, keeping my voice low to match the intimacy of the moment.

Natalie's fingers tighten around her mug. She takes a long drink.

"Every night was the same. Dad would come home late from work. Mom would passive-aggressively mention how the food was cold. He'd make some comment about how maybe she should've waited. Then they'd spend the rest of dinner arguing about the most mundane things. The grocery list, the temperature in the house, whether the grass needed cutting."

I shift closer, drawn in by the quiet pain in her voice.

"The worst part wasn't the fighting. It was watching two people who clearly didn't love each other anymore just... exist in the same space."

She shakes her head and I reach across to grip her thigh, squeezing as if it might ease the pain in her voice.

"Mom stayed because she didn't want to be alone. Dad stayed because divorce was too much hassle. They both just... settled."

The word 'settled' comes out bitter, like poison on her tongue.

"As I grew up, my grandmother's place became my escape. She'd let me stay over whenever I wanted." Natalie's voice catches. "She was the only one who saw how much their marriage affected me. The only one who understood why I read all those romance novels. Why I wanted a different life, a different kind of marriage."

She blows a breath out up at the stars.

"I promised myself I'd never end up like them. I'd rather be alone than trapped in a loveless marriage."

The quiet strength in her voice guts me.

She grew up watching two people tolerate each other, and instead of making her jaded and hateful towards love, it made her want it more.

I tighten my arm around her, pulling her in, letting her settle against my side. “You deserve the fairytale life you used to read about, Natalie.”

She stills. Just for a second.

Then—softly, quietly—she exhales, her body melting into mine as I wrap my arm around her shoulders and pull her closer.

And fuck me if I don’t want to be the one to give that fairytale to her.