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I grab her wrists, pinning them above her head with one hand. "Like this?" I thrust deeper, harder, the bed frame hitting the wall with each movement. "Is this what you need?"

"Yes," she moans. "God, yes."

"Look at me." I slow my pace, making her whimper. "I want to see your face when you come on my cock."

Her eyes lock with mine, dark and desperate.

“Touch yourself. Rub that clit until you come all over me.”

She reaches between us and finds her clit with her finger.

"That's it," I encourage as she rubs it and tightens around me even more. "Let go for me, baby."

As she comes her entire body starts shaking beneath me. The feel of her pussy clenching my cock pushes me over the edge. I bury my face in her neck as I follow her, emptying myself inside her with a loud moan.

I continue to lay on top of her as I press soft kisses to her shoulder, her jaw, her lips, not ready to break the connection.

"Wow..." she trails off, looking up at me with wonder.

"Yeah," I agree, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"It felt different this time."

"It was different." I catch her hand, bringing it to my lips. "Everything is different now."

"Because we're not sneaking around anymore?"

"Because I'm not afraid of how much I feel for you." The words come out before I can filter them, raw and honest.

Her eyes widen slightly. "And how much is that?"

I pull her closer, kissing her forehead, her cheek, the corner of her mouth. "Enough to scare the shit out of me before. Enough to make me think about forever."

She goes still in my arms. "Nate..."

"I'm not saying we're there yet," I clarify quickly. "I'm just saying that for the first time in my life, I can see a future with someone. With you."

I finally roll off her and pull her to me. She relaxes against me, her head nestled under my chin. "I can see it too," she whispers.

I stretch my neck from side to side, feeling the satisfying stretch of tight muscles loosening after a brutal practice.

The locker room empties around me as guys rush to shower and head home.

I'm taking my time, deliberately being the last one out.

Coach Martinez is still on the ice, reviewing notes with the assistant coaches.

My stomach knots as I watch him through the tunnel opening.

This conversation could go sideways fast, but it needs to happen.

"You coming, Barnesy?" McCoy calls from the door, keys jingling in his hand.

"Nah. Got something to take care of first." I tug my shirt over still-damp hair. "See you tomorrow, man."

He raises an eyebrow but doesn't pry. That's what makes him a good captain—knows when to push, when to back off.

I'm fully dressed but lingering at my stall when Coach finally walks in, clipboard tucked under his arm. His eyes flick to me, then narrow slightly when he realizes we're alone.

"Barnesy. Everything alright?"

I stand, wiping suddenly sweaty palms on my jeans. "Yeah. I was hoping I could talk to you for a minute."

He studies me for a moment. "My office," he says, turning without waiting for my response.

I follow him down the corridor, past framed photos of Blades legends and championship banners. His office is as neat as always—desk free of clutter, chair pushed under it, whiteboard marked with plays and player stats in his precise handwriting.

"Have a seat." He motions to the chair across from his desk as he settles into his own.

I sit, hands resting on my knees. "I appreciate you taking the time, Coach."

He leans back, eyes steady on my face. "What's on your mind?"

The carefully prepared speech I'd rehearsed for days flies right out of my head. I take a deep breath. Honesty. Just go with honesty.

"I know you already know that Elena and I are seeing each other again," I begin, meeting his gaze directly. "But I wanted to talk to you about it. Man to man."

His jaw tics, but he doesn't interrupt.

"I want to get your blessing," I continue. "It matters to Elena, which means it matters to me."

He lets out a laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "You've got balls, I'll give you that."

"Sir—"

"Let me talk." He leans forward, elbows on the desk. "Elena is everything to me."

I nod, but keep my mouth shut.

"She's brilliant. Kind. Could have done anything with her life, and she chose to help people like you—athletes with more talent than sense."

The barb stings, but I don't rise to it. He's not wrong, at least about the man I used to be.

"You don't deserve her," he continues, his voice hard. "But I do see the changes you're making."

That catches me off guard. "You do?"

"You're passing more, fighting less. Taking younger players under your wing."

He's been noticing. All this time, I thought he was just waiting for me to screw up again.

"She makes me want to be better," I admit. "But I'm doing it for myself too. The therapy, the changes—they're not just for her."

Coach nods slowly. "That's good. That's what I needed to hear."

"So..." I shift in my seat. "Your blessing?"

He barks a short laugh. "You think it's that easy, huh?"

"No, sir." I meet his eyes again. "But I love your daughter. I'm going to be with her whether you approve or not. I'd just rather do it with your blessing than without it."

The word "love" hangs in the air between us. I've never said it out loud before—not to Elena, not to anyone. But it's true.

Coach stands abruptly, walking to the window that overlooks the practice rink. His back is to me when he speaks again.

"She’s happy with you. Happier than I've heard her in a long time."

Hope flickers in my chest. "She makes me happy too."

"I don't doubt that." He crosses his arms. "But happiness isn't enough, Barnes. Relationships take work. Commitment. Sacrifice. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes," I say with absolutely zero hesitation.

He studies me for a long moment. "I won't stand in your way," he says finally. "But hear me clearly—don't hurt her. I will hunt you down if you do that."

The threat isn’t empty. His gaze is intense, determined—the same expression he wears when we're down by one in the final minutes of a game.

"I won't." I stand, meeting him at eye level. "I promise."

He extends his hand, and I shake it, his grip firm enough to make a point. "Now get out of here. And don’t think you’re getting any special treatment because you're dating my daughter."

I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "Wouldn't even think it, Coach."

At the door, I pause. "Thank you. This means a lot to both of us."

He waves me off, already turning back to the work on his desk. "Just make her happy, Barnesy. That's all I ask."

"I will," I say, and I fucking mean it.

Walking out of the facility, I pull out my phone and see a text from Elena: "How was practice? Want to come over tonight?"

My thumbs hover over the screen for a moment. "Practice was good. Just had a talk with your dad."

Her response is immediate: "OMG WHAT?! What happened??"

I smile, sliding into my car. "I'll tell you tonight. But I think he might actually be starting to like me."

"That’s crazy talk," she texts back.

I laugh, starting the engine. She's right. I've got a long way to go with Coach. But it really feels possible—all of it. Our relationship. Earning her father's respect. Building something real and lasting.

I'm not the same man who walked into her office all those months ago, cocky and self-destructive. I'm still me—still competitive, still intense—but different in the ways that matter.

And for once in my life, I'm not running from that growth. I'm leaning into it, embracing the man I'm becoming.