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Chapter Twenty-Five

Natalie

E arly morning sunlight spills through the open garage door, catching on the polished curves of Hunter’s glossy red Ferrari. A ruby nestled among the rugged beauty of Iron Ridge, this vehicle is a small-town dream wrapped in luxury leather seats and gleaming chrome.

“Okay, Coach,” I tease, hands on my hips as I eye the pristine sports car skeptically. “I appreciate the sentiment, but maybe we should start smaller. Like, I don’t know… your Jeep?”

Hunter chuckles, leaning casually against the hood, arms folded across his chest. His navy shirt hugs his broad shoulders, sleeves pushed up to reveal strong forearms. Dark jeans fit him like they were custom-made, and his favorite leather boots complete the casual 'day-off' look.

“Nope. It’s Ferrari day. And you’re driving.”

I swallow, excitement and nerves mingling in my chest. “You sure you trust me with your precious baby?”

He pushes off the car and steps close, sliding a hand gently along my waist. “I trust you with anything, Nat. Now get in. She purrs so good when you treat her right.”

A grin tugs at my lips as I lift an eyebrow. “Oooo… Like owner, like car?”

He tilts my chin up, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips. “Exactly.”

Sliding into the driver’s seat feels surreal. Like stepping into a fantasy. Soft leather cradles me as I grip the steering wheel, my pulse racing faster than this car probably ever has.

Hunter settles beside me, calm and patient as he guides me through the fancy push button ignition.

“Alright, clutch in, shift into first, then ease the gas.” He smiles reassuringly. “You’ve got this.”

I stare down at the unfamiliar gear stick and clutch pedal like they're alien controls from a spaceship. Sure, I can drive… but automatic transmissions have always been my thing.

I draw a shaky breath, press the clutch, and shift awkwardly into gear.

The engine roars to life beneath me, sending vibrations through my fingertips. I stall immediately, jolting us forward with an embarrassing lurch. Hunter laughs, a warm, rich sound that eases the nerves whizzing through me.

“Easy,” he coaches, placing his palm gently over my knee. “Gentle is the key. It’s a dance, Nat. Feel the rhythm.”

I roll my eyes dramatically.

“If this is dancing, I’m stepping on a lot of toes.” I glance nervously at him. “If I wreck this thing, your fan club in Iron Ridge is going to hunt me down.”

“Don’t worry,” Hunter teases, eyes glittering with amusement. “I’ll protect you.”

A few more jerky starts—and one near-collision with a garbage can—later, I finally manage a smooth glide onto the winding mountain road overlooking Iron Ridge.

Hunter’s hand never leaves my thigh, a steady, reassuring presence that floods me with confidence. When the Ferrari finally purrs beneath me, so effortlessly and smooth along the winding roads, I release a joyful laugh that echoes through the trees.

“Oh my god, I did it!”

"Of course you did it!"

The Ferrari hugs another curve as I settle into the rhythm of shifting gears. Hunter's hand remains steady on my thigh, grounding me in this perfect moment where I don't have to think about tomorrow or the next day, or about Team USA, about what happens after he wins the Cup for the Icehawks.

That's what this surprise is all about, isn't it? Distracting me and pretending like nothing is about to change.

Half an hour later, we park at a scenic pull-off high above town. The view overlooking Iron Ridge is incredible, the dark green treetops swaying in the golden sunlight.

I pull the Ferrari to a stop at a scenic overlook, the engine purring one last time before I kill it. The view of Iron Ridge is breathtaking, but my attention is fixed on Hunter beside me.

“Not bad for your first time handling a stick,” he quips, his grin as cocky as ever.

I roll my eyes, smirking. “It's no surprise really. I’m pretty good at handling sticks. You should know that by now.”

Hunter’s laugh is deep and he leans closer, his breath hot against my ear. “You’re more than good, Nat. You’re amazing.”

Before I can respond, his lips capture me in a kiss to knocks the breath out of me. It’s soft at first, but quickly turns hungry and demanding.

“Fuck, Nat,” he growls against my lips, his hand slipping beneath the soft fabric of my sundress.

His fingers skim my inner thigh, teasing slowly upwards until they find my wet pussy, stroking me through my thin panties. I gasp sharply, gripping his shoulders as he slides them aside, fingers circling my swollen clit. Pleasure pulses through me, and I moan into his mouth.

“Hunter…"

I moan into his mouth as his fingers move against me, teasing and stroking in a way that makes me forget everything else.

“God, you’re so wet,” he growls into the kiss.

I can’t form words; all I can do is arch into his touch, my hands fumbling with the button of his jeans. I manage to free him from the confines of denim and boxers, his hard length springing into my hand.

Hunter groans as I wrap my fingers around him, giving him a slow stroke.

“You gonna show me how well you handle this stick?” he teases, voice thick with lust, eyes blazing hot.

I lick my lips. “Absolutely, Coach.”

I position myself better in the seat and lean across the center as I kill the engine completely. With one hand on his thigh for balance, I lean forward, sliding my tongue across his swollen tip, tasting the salty pre-cum as he shudders beneath me.

My lips wrap around him, taking him deep into my mouth, working him with a rhythmic motion that makes him swear under his breath.

He guides me as I move up and down his length. “That’s it… just like that.”

His dirty words spur me on, and I suck harder, taking him deeper until he hits the back of my throat. His grip tightens in my hair as he bucks into my mouth. My eyes water, but I crave this, crave making him lose control.

“Oh god… Nat… fuck…”

I swirl my tongue along his shaft, pumping him with my hand as my mouth moves faster, harder, desperate to push him over the edge. His breathing becomes harsh, uneven, until finally, with a guttural moan, he explodes in my mouth.

His body jerks beneath me, spilling hot and thick onto my tongue.

I swallow him down eagerly, savoring every drop before slowly pulling back, lips swollen and aching. Hunter’s eyes are dark, intense, staring at me like I’m the only woman who exists.

“Damn,” he whispers, pulling me up for another kiss. “You’re incredible. And this wasn't even part of your surprise.”

I giggle and wipe the back of my hand over my mouth. "Oh really? Then you'd better get moving before our day off is gone."

Hunter's hand stays possessively on my thigh the entire drive back into Iron Ridge. As we wind through town, playoff banners fluttering proudly from every lamppost, a flutter of unease builds inside me.

We cruise past Ridgeview Tavern, and fuck, Eli has transformed the place into playoff central. Team flags drape every window, a massive "GO ICEHAWKS" banner stretches across the stone facade, and twinkling lights outline the building in team colors.

When I look back to the road, my grandmother’s old building looms ahead, and a pang hits my chest… returning here feels too much like stepping backward.

"Pull up right here," Hunter instructs, motioning to the curb. "Kill the engine."

"What are we doing here?" I glance up at the apartment, anxiety knotting my stomach.

This place holds memories, sure. But it also holds every doubt I have about the future. Every doubt in the back of my mind that I'll be back here before I know it, and everything I've loved about the last month will be gone.

He catches my hesitation, squeezing my hand gently. "Trust me, baby. I've got one last surprise."

"Another one?" I force a teasing grin, following him reluctantly up the stairs. "Careful, Hunt. Too many surprises and I might start expecting things."

He laughs. "Good. You deserve to."

At the landing, Hunter pauses and asks for my keys, sliding me a mischievous smile before pushing the apartment door open wide.

"Your chariot awaits," he says, dangling my own keys between two fingers.

I roll my eyes, nerves twisting in my belly.

"You know, I haven't missed this place as much as I thought I would. Your fancy heated floors and talking fridge ruined me forever."

He grins smugly, nudging me gently with his hip. "Are you saying you prefer my house to yours?"

"I’m saying your house has set unrealistic expectations," I tease back.

"Well, then you're gonna be really disappointed," Hunter says. "Come on, go inside already."

I step inside, freezing in shock as my breath catches in my throat.

Oh my god...

My apartment—my beloved, crumbling, ancient apartment—is completely transformed.

Sunlight pours in through spotlessly clean windows, highlighting pristine hardwood floors that gleam warmly beneath my feet. The walls, freshly painted in soft creams and muted sage, make the entire space feel impossibly bright and open.

"Oh my god…" I whisper, looking around at my apartment.

The last time I was here, the place looked like a renovation disaster. Tools everywhere, half-finished drywall, sawdust coating the floors.

But because we've been so preoccupied with hockey, travel, and, well… each other , it completely slipped my mind to question Hunter again. I’d meant to check in, to get an update, but between playoff chaos and spending every night tangled up in his bed, I never did.

And now… this.

"Hunter," I whisper, my voice trembling. "What did you do?"

He steps behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I wanted you to have everything you deserve, Natalie. It’s all yours, exactly how you always imagined it could be."

"But Hunter, I can't—"

He chuckles and squeezes me in his massive arms so hard I can get the words out.

"And don't worry about the bill. It's been taken care of." He releases me and presses a kiss to the top of my head. "I know what this place meant to you, baby. And now it's restored, and another generation gets to create the same memories you did growing up here."

Tears prick my eyes, but before I can completely melt into an emotional puddle, my gaze flicks down the hallway.

Wait.

The bedroom.

My bedroom. The scene of the crime where this shit show started.

The last time I stepped foot in there, a fat droplet of ceiling water had plummeted straight onto my forehead at some ungodly hour.

And now?

Now, I peek inside and see the peeling paint, ominous water stains, and the distinct aroma of regret have gone.

Instead, I’m greeted with a room straight out of a Pinterest fever dream.

Soft, cloud-like bedding. A chic, upholstered headboard in a creamy linen fabric. Warm light glowing from elegant bedside sconces that look expensive enough to require a background check just to touch them.

I turn to Hunter, jaw slack.

“What the hell? Where’s my hellhole? The leak? The cursed spot where I saw my life flash before my eyes?”

He smirks. “Gone. Fixed. Banished to the fiery depths of contractor hell where it belongs.”

I blink, still processing. “So you’re telling me I can now sleep in here without waking up to an impromptu waterfall taking over my dreams?”

Hunter chuckles and nods. “Pretty much.”

I whirl back to the living room, very much starting to enjoy this.

“Holy shit.”

My eyes well with tears as I spot my Grandmother's rocking chair, lovingly restored and positioned proudly by the window seat. Plush, cozy cushions in my favorite shade of blush pink now line that spot where we spent hours reading books together. Shelves have been built seamlessly into the wall and now overflow with all my favorite books, arranged exactly as I'd described to Hunter in late-night conversations I never dreamed he remembered.

I turn to him, overwhelmed. "Hunter, I can't believe you… you did all this for me."

His eyes soften, thumb brushing gently over my cheek. He doesn't say a word, just nods and smiles.

My heart squeezes painfully in my chest as tears spill down my cheeks.

"You know, I was perfectly fine living in your luxurious man cave. But now?" I sniff dramatically. "Now you've given me an impossible choice."

He laughs warmly, bending to kiss me softly.

"Who says you have to choose? I happen to think you'd look pretty damn good splitting your time between here and my talking fridge."

I laugh through my tears, cupping his face as happiness floods me in a rush. "Hunter Brody, if I didn't already love you, I'd have no choice but to fall hopelessly, madly in love with you right now."

His eyes lock on mine. "Y-you what?"

I step closer, looping my arms around his neck, breathing him in as I open my heart to the man who's giving me everything I never imagined I would get.

"I love you, Hunter." My chest pounds with excitement. I've never said those words to anyone, but fuck, it feels good. "I. Love. You."

He smiles, eyes dark and earnest as he draws me close. "And I love you too, Natalie Hayes."

Hunter’s arms are still around me, his body warm and solid, grounding me in this perfect moment.

My heart is still hammering from everything. The overwhelming love of his parents, the shock of the team progressing the way they have, the sheer audacity of this man to pull off the most romantic renovation reveal of all time.

I glance down at the gleaming hardwood floors, a slow smirk curling my lips.

“So…” I trail a teasing hand down his chest, letting my fingers toy with the hem of his shirt. “You really went all out, huh?”

“Only the best for you,” he says, tilting my chin up and kissing my lips.

I hum against his lips, then pull back just enough to arch a playful brow. “Think the new flooring is sturdy enough to handle, say… a little durability test?”

His hands tighten on my waist. “Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?”

I shrug, feigning innocence. “Well, it would be a shame if we didn’t make sure my knees don’t, you know… slip.”

He groans, his grip tightening as he pushes me back toward the nearest wall. “Natalie Hayes, you are so damn lucky I just had these walls reinforced. But maybe before we test out the floors, there’s one last thing I should tell you.”

My stomach drops.

I freeze.

Oh. Oh no. This is it.

The rumors. The Olympics chatter that just won't stop.

He’s leaving.

This insane, beautiful, over-the-top renovation… this was his parting gift. His way of making sure I’d be okay when he takes off for Team USA, for the Olympics, for the life that doesn’t have room for me.

My throat tightens, my vision blurs, and suddenly, the perfect morning I was just having is imploding before my eyes.

My fingers tighten on his shirt, but it’s too late.

He’s leaving.

I just told him I loved him, and now…

Now he’s about to rip my heart out.