Page 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Natalie

S tepping onto the ice of Hunter’s childhood rink feels strangely like coming home, even though I’ve never been here before.

Growing up in Iron Ridge, skating was practically a rite of passage.

But here, beneath the glittering fairy lights and nostalgic 90s themed music filtering through crackling speakers, there's something magical in the air.

Something that feels uniquely… Hunter .

“I spent half my life here,” Hunter says softly, skating up beside me. His gaze drifts around the vintage rink, a wave of memories clearly etched on his handsome face. "This is where it all started."

I listen to him carefully, heart squeezing at the warmth in his eyes as he takes it all in again.

Spending the afternoon with his parents had shown me a side of Hunter I'd only glimpsed before. He’s confident, strong, commanding. But beneath it all is a boy who grew up loved fiercely by parents who’d do anything for their son.

Hunter's parents welcomed me instantly. Judy's hugs and endless affection, his father’s quiet pride… they felt more like family in a single afternoon than my own parents ever did in a lifetime.

I try not to let it sting, but I can't ignore the quiet ache deep inside me. It's everything I ever wanted when I was growing up, and the closest I got was when I lived with my grandmother in her apartment.

Hunter reaches for my hand, pulling me from my thoughts with a gentle tug. "So, tell me what you think of Boston. You like it?"

I smile softly, squeezing his fingers. "I really do. I loved meeting your parents today, Hunter. They're amazing people."

He skates closer, looping his arms around my waist and bringing us to a slow glide.

"They loved you too. My mom texted me while you were talking to Dad. She asked when you're moving in."

I laugh, tipping my head back as we skate lazily beneath the bright glow of fairy lights strung above the rink. "You know, if I didn't have to leave Iron Ridge, I might actually consider it. She promised me more embarrassing stories about you."

"Of course she did," Hunter mutters, but his eyes shine warmly as he draws me even closer, his large hands spread possessively along my hips. "I’ll have to watch what other childhood relics she shows you next. Can't have here revealing all my secrets."

We glide easily across the smooth ice, moving together in a comfortable rhythm that mirrors how seamlessly we fit everywhere else. This past week has been insane.

In his house, on the road with the team, even here, deep in the heart of his past… every moment with Hunter just feels perfect.

We circle the rink again, and I let his hand guide me closer near the edge.

“Right there,” he nods to a spot near the far boards. “That's where I landed flat on my ass trying to impress a girl when I was thirteen. Thought my hockey skills would win her over.”

I grin mischievously. “Did it work?”

“Not even close,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “She laughed so hard she cried. I was humiliated.”

I lean in, brushing my lips softly against his. “Well, it worked this time.”

His arms tighten around me, eyes darkening with desire. “Thank god.”

He kisses me again, slow and sweet, right here in the middle of the rink where he took his first tentative steps toward his hockey dreams.

When Hunter finally pulls away, his gaze is serious. "I’m glad you're here, Nat. Sharing this with you… it means more than you know."

Emotion squeezes my chest as I run my thumb along his jawline, smiling softly. "Thank you for bringing me. For showing me this part of you."

His eyes flash with a hint of mischief I've seen once before - when he was standing opposite me in Vancouver with a bowl of frosting at his disposal.

I brace myself as a grin tugs at the corners of his lips.

“Actually, there’s one more part of my past here I haven't shown anyone else…”

His voice drops lower, and my pulse quickens. “Oh? What's that?”

He shoots me a wicked smile and leads me toward the edge of the rink. “Come with me, and I'll show you.”

Hunter guides me off the ice, the playful gleam in his eyes sharpening into something darker, more wickedly promising. My pulse quickens as he leads me behind the old concession stand, down a hallway lined with faded team photos and championship banners from decades past.

"Where are you taking me?" I whisper, laughter slipping into my voice as I glance around the empty hallway.

He turns, shooting me a grin that makes heat rise up my neck. "Somewhere special."

Hunter reaches into his pocket, pulling out an old key dangling from a worn hockey puck keychain.

"I worked my first job here. Maintenance and concessions," he explains. "And let's just say, I learned a few secrets about this place."

"Hunter!" I whisper harshly, looking over my shoulder. "Where did you get that key?!"

He smirks and scoffs at my shock. "It's been in my bedroom all these years. I grabbed it earlier when I decided to bring you here."

Turning, he unlocks a door marked Staff Only , revealing a cramped, forgotten office now used as storage.

Boxes of old skates, hockey sticks, and jerseys stack haphazardly around a dusty wooden desk. But what catches my attention instantly is a corkboard on the far wall, layered with faded photographs and newspaper clippings.

"Oh my god," I breathe, stepping forward. "Hunter… is this you?"

He moves behind me, slipping an arm around my waist as I study the images.

Dozens of grainy photos show a teenage Hunter, lanky and smiling proudly, hoisting trophies or posing with his team. Newspaper headlines declare, brODY SCORES GAME WINNER and LOCAL STAR ON THE RISE .

"It was a long time ago," he murmurs, sounding slightly embarrassed.

I turn in his arms, cupping his jaw, forcing him to look at me. "You look so happy. Even cockier than you do now."

His mouth quirks into a lopsided smirk. "Impossible."

My laughter echoes through the tiny room. But then my eyes drift lower, noticing a slightly newer clipping pinned beneath the others, yellowing with age.

brODY INJURED: CAREER IN QUESTION.

My heart squeezes painfully. "Hunter..."

Shadows pass over Hunter's face as he takes a long breath and blows out his cheeks.

"I wasn't sure I'd ever come back from it. Losing hockey…" His voice softens, vulnerability creeping into his eyes. "It almost destroyed me. There were days I couldn't even get out of bed, Nat. Weeks I couldn't sleep. Couldn't eat. I was a mess. I thought I'd lost everything."

My throat tightens, and I touch his chest gently.

"But you didn't. You fought your way through."

He exhales slowly, a smile finally cracking through the darkness. "Yeah. Eventually. I promised myself that if I ever got another shot, I'd never waste it. I'd give hockey, and myself, everything I had left."

I swallow hard, silently reflecting on the warmth I felt today in Hunter's family home. It's the kind of love and support I’d always longed for but never truly known until now.

In our own ways, we’ve both spent years searching for something real.

Hunter lost hockey, but he always had family. And maybe that's the difference.

His jaw tightens, but he forces a smile and does his best to change the sudden mood shift. "But… it's all just history now, Nat. Ancient history."

I feel the steady thump of his heart beneath my palm. "You fought so hard to come back from this."

Hunter's expression softens, his gaze warm as he looks down at me.

"And it led me right here. To the playoffs… to you. I'd do it all over again if it meant ending up in this moment."

My breath catches at his sincerity. "I still can’t believe I’m the lucky one standing here with you."

He chuckles low, his hand slipping beneath my sweater, fingers caressing my bare waist, drawing soft circles that make my skin shiver.

"Trust me, sweetheart, I’m the lucky one."

I tilt my head, eyes sparkling mischievously. "So, this office was your first job, huh? Did teenage Hunter ever sneak a girl back here?"

He laughs darkly, shaking his head. "Not once. My boss would've killed me."

"And now?" I challenge, arching a brow playfully.

His grip tightens possessively, heat burning in his stare. "Now I don't give a damn about getting caught."

Hunter doesn't wait another second.

His mouth captures mine, fierce and possessive as my back presses against the old desk. Stacks of paper tumble to the floor as his hips grind against me, his thick erection straining through his jeans, igniting a fiery need deep in my core.

"Fuck, Natalie," he growls against my lips, hands already tugging at my jeans, pushing them down my hips.

My fingers fumble with his belt buckle, desperate to free him, to feel him, to have him inside me again.

He spins me swiftly, chest pressed against my back, his breath hot on my neck. Hunter’s palm slides up beneath my sweater, cupping my breast possessively, his thumb dragging roughly across my peaked nipple.

“I need you,” I gasp, arching back against his muscular frame.

His hand pushes on my spine, bending my over the desk as his breath shudders out, his cock suddenly right there, nudging at my entrance.

"You're fucking mine," he grunts, pushing inside with one powerful thrust that has the desk shifting on the floor beneath me.

He fills me completely, stretching my pussy until I cry out his name, reaching behind just to feel him, feel his warmth, his body, his hands. Anything. I just need him.

His hips move faster, my moans echoing through the room. The ancient desk creaks and groans, but it's no match for the passion we share with each other. Pleasure coils tight, my vision blurring as Hunter thrusts deeper, harder, driving us both to the edge.

Pleasure shatters through me in a violent rush, my body tightening around him, gripping him hard as I cry out, my nails clawing desperately at the desk beneath us.

“Oh god, Hunter!”

He groans, hips driving forward one final, deep thrust, burying himself fully as his release crashes through him. His powerful body shudders behind me, strong arms wrapping around my waist, holding me so tightly I can barely breathe.

“Fuck,” he rasps against my neck, his breath ragged and hot, heart pounding in perfect sync with mine.

We remain locked together, breathing heavily, bodies trembling from the intensity of our passion. Hunter slowly pulls away, turning me gently to face him. His thumb brushes tenderly across my flushed cheek, eyes darkening with fierce, undeniable affection.

“You have no idea what you mean to me,” he whispers, the honesty raw and beautiful in his voice.

My heart thuds violently against my ribs, warmth spreading through my chest. I lean forward, capturing his lips in a tender, lingering kiss, pouring every emotion I can't quite speak into this perfect, stolen moment.

Just as we reluctantly break apart, Hunter’s phone buzzes loudly from his pocket, jolting us back to reality.

He sighs, pulling it out, his expression instantly shifting to concern.

“Shit,” he mutters, brow furrowing. “It’s Wes."

I adjust my jeans and raise a brow. "And Wes is?"

Hunter doesn't even look up. "Wes Callahan. Coach of Vegas. He's called five times.”

An uneasy chill whispers down my spine. “Is something wrong?”

Hunter swallows, tension radiating from every line of his body as he dials Wes back.

“Hey,” he says quickly, voice sharp with urgency. “Wes, what’s going—”

He stops abruptly, expression darkening. His gaze meets mine, eyes flashing with shock and fear.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”