Page 34

T he energy inside Bridgestone Arena is electric. The roar of the crowd, the flashing lights, the booming bass of the pre-game hype video—it’s a full-body experience.

I’ve been to a hundred hockey games in my life. But this one feels different.

Because this time, I’m not just a fan, not just Jake’s sister.

I’m watching him.

Grant Maddox, standing behind the bench, arms crossed, eyes locked on the ice like he’s carving every play into his mind.

He looks intense. Focused. In control.

And it’s doing things to me.

I shift in my seat in the VIP suite, glancing at Allie who is rubbing her baby bump absentmindedly while talking to one of the other WAGs.

Talia is next to me, sipping her drink, watching me instead of the game.

“You look like you’re about to combust.”

I blink, tearing my gaze away from Grant. “What? No, I’m fine.”

Talia smirks. “Mmhmm. Sure. You’ve been eye-fucking your boyfriend for the last ten minutes, but yeah, totally fine.”

My stomach twists. “First of all, not my boyfriend.”

Talia snorts. “Right.”

“Second, I was just—”

Before I can finish, the jumbotron flashes to the bench.

To Grant.

My breath catches.

The cameras always pan to the coaches, but right now? It feels deliberate.

The angle catches the silver streaks at his temples, the sharp focus in his dark eyes, the way his jaw flexes as he mutters something to an assistant coach.

God, he looks—

“Holy shit.” Talia’s voice is laced with amusement.

I blink. “What?”

She tilts her head toward the screen.

And that’s when I see it. The camera isn’t just on Grant anymore.

It’s on me.

Split screen.

A side-by-side of him looking devastatingly intense on the bench… and me, sitting here like a lovestruck idiot, staring at him like I want to climb down to the ice and maul him.

“Oh. My. God.” My stomach drops.

Talia chokes on her drink. “Oh, babe. That’s not subtle.”

Shit.

I force a casual expression onto my face and take a slow sip of my drink, like I’m just casually watching a normal game where the assistant coach isn’t someone I was tangled up with two nights ago.

The jumbotron finally shifts away, but my heart is still pounding.

People saw that.

I grip my drink tighter and try to focus on the actual hockey game happening in front of me.

The Eagles are locked in a brutal fight against their biggest rival. It’s the kind of game where every play feels personal, where tempers are running high, where the players aren’t just looking to win—they’re looking to destroy.

Grant is at the edge of the bench, barking instructions, his voice cutting through the chaos like a razor-sharp blade.

Even from here, I can see the vein in his temple, the tight clench of his jaw, the fire in his eyes.

And I feel it in my chest.

God, he’s in his element.

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted him more.

Then—everything happens at once.

One of the Eagles’ star players—Kingston—goes into the boards hard.

The hit is ugly. Questionable.

The arena erupts.

Grant is on his feet instantly, shouting at the refs, pure fury radiating off him.

The cameras catch everything.

And then, like some cruel joke from the universe, the jumbotron flickers back to me.

Catching my reaction.

My visceral reaction.

Because I wasn’t watching the game.

I was watching Grant.

The intensity on his face. The way he’s barely keeping his rage in check. The way he looks like he’s ready to jump over the boards and fight someone himself.

And apparently, it was all over my face.

Because the second the camera zooms in on me, my expression is a dead giveaway.

A mix of concern, admiration, and something far too intimate.

The final buzzer blares through the arena, rattling through my bones.

The Eagles win.

The entire building erupts, the energy a tidal wave of cheers, music, and flashing lights.

I should be celebrating. But my stomach is in knots. Because even though the game is over, my real battle is just starting.

Grant is already storming away down the tunnel, his expression a mix of fierce satisfaction and residual frustration.

I can’t help myself—I stand.

Talia notices.

And before she can say anything, my feet start moving.

I don’t think. I just act.

My pulse hammers as I step out of the suite, weaving through the VIP section, heading for the tunnel exit. I just want—God, I don’t even know what I want.

To see him.

To say something.

To just be in his orbit for one second before reality slams back into us.

I reach the edge of the restricted hallway just as Grant emerges from the locker room.

And that’s when it happens.

The moment that changes everything.

Camera flashes explode. A sudden wall of reporters and media personnel swarm the space. Microphones shoved forward. Voices shouting questions.

And the worst part?

They’re not aimed at him. They’re aimed at me.

“Kenzie! Kenzie! Are you and Grant Maddox together?”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Did Jake Williams know about this relationship?”

The noise is deafening.

I freeze, my heart slamming into my ribs.

I barely register Grant turning toward me, his expression morphing from surprise to sheer protectiveness in half a second.

Then, before I can even process what’s happening—

Grant moves.

His hand finds my waist.

He steps into me, blocking me from the reporters, his body solid and sure.

And just like that—it’s done.

There’s no hiding anymore.

The world knows.

The flashing lights are blinding.

The shouting voices morph into static.

Grant’s hand is warm at my waist, grounding me, anchoring me in place, but my heart pounds like it’s about to detonate inside my chest.

This wasn’t how this was supposed to happen.

I knew, deep down, that we wouldn’t be able to keep this secret forever, but I thought we’d at least get to choose how it happened.

Now?

It’s out. Completely, irrevocably out.

“Back up,” Grant’s voice is sharp, commanding, cutting through the chaos.

The reporters don’t listen.

“Grant, is this why you chose Nashville in the first place?”

“Did the team know about this relationship?”

“Kenzie, how long have you been sneaking around with the coach?”

That one hits me hard.

Because that’s exactly how this will be spun.

The sneaky, forbidden, unprofessional affair.

Grant must feel the shift in my body, because his hold on me tightens, protective. His other hand lifts like a human shield as he moves us toward the hallway door.

Jake appears out of nowhere.

“Are you serious?” His voice is low, sharp, but his glare is all for Grant.

Oh, God. Not now.

“Jake—” I start, but I barely get a word out before we’re flanked by security.

A team rep shuts down the questions, pushing reporters back as Grant steers me down the hallway.

Jake follows.

I can feel the fury radiating off of him.

He waits until we’ve rounded the corner, away from the cameras, before he explodes.

“I can’t believe those reporters.” His voice echoes. “Are you sure this is a good idea, Kenzie? Out of all the guys you could be dating…”

“Jake—you promised you’d be supportive.”

“That was before it was just outed by the press that you’re with him!”

I swallow hard. “Calm down.”

His jaw locks. “You’ve got to stop this fling.”

“Jake, you stop,” I snap. “This isn’t some fling. It’s not—”

“Then what is it, Kenzie?” His voice softens, but it’s somehow worse that way. “Because you can’t tell me you actually think this ends well.”

Something inside me snaps.

“I love him.”

The words fly out before I can stop them.

The hallway falls silent.

Grant turns to me, his expression unreadable.

Jake shakes his head, exhaling harshly. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” My voice is steady now. “And I’m not asking for your approval, Jake. I love him. And he loves me.”

I can feel Grant go still beside me.

I said it. Out loud.

To my brother.

To the world.

And the crazy part?

I don’t regret it.

Not for a second.